Taking my glass from Micah before he could drink the entire contents, I stirred the cocktail. “Not funny.”
Fynn leaned an arm on an annoyed Kenna. “We’ll make sure he stays out of jail tonight.”
“Now leave. You’re distracting my girls.” Kenna shooed her brother and Fynn, waving them off with the back of her hand.
I shot her a pointed look. “Weren’t you looking for a guy to hook up with just a few minutes ago?”
Yes, I just threw my cousin under the bus. And I didn’t give a damn, or maybe it was the booze that didn’t care.
Curiosity filled Grayson’s eyes. His arms folded as he stared at his sister.
Was it my imagination, or did Fynn’s gaze just darken? Weird.The lighting was dim, and my vision was altered by the alcohol, but…
I glanced again at Kenna and Fynn and saw… nothing. My imagination was getting the best of me.
“Don’t give me that look,” she scolded both Grayson and Fynn. “It’s no different than what you do every weekend.”
Micah chuckled at my side.
The Elite left, but not before Grayson and Ainsley exchanged the ritual glares and sarcastic mumbles under their breath of two people who could barely tolerate being in the same room together, even when that room was filled with a hundred other people.
All summer the two of them had been throwing barbs at each other. I still couldn’t figure out if my cousin wanted to drown her or fuck her. Honestly, probably both. But the tension between them could easily kill my party mood. It was time for another fucking drink.
The band went through a few minutes of soundcheck and instrument tuning before starting their live show with a bang. Literally. Cymbals crashed together right before the guitar riff echoed through the bar and the crowd got rowdy.
An hour into the set, I leaned in toward Josie. “I’m stepping outside for a smoke,” I yelled loud enough for her to hear.
She nodded.
I might be the only one in my group who partook in what Kenna coined as my “ratchet habit,” but my friends cared enough about me to brace cold winters and hot-ass summers while I indulged.
Josie started to follow me through the cluster of bodies, but I shook her off. “Stay,” I insisted. I could tell she didn’t like the idea. “I’ll just be a minute,” I insisted.
Ainsley fell into Josie, which turned into a hug. I left them like that and began making my way toward the door. It was like playing a game of human Tetris. I moved my body this way and that, trying to fit through open space. By the time I made it to the entrance, I didn’t just want a cigarette, I needed it like I needed a gulp of fresh air, which I did.
The bar had become stuffy, and I couldn’t tell if just my ears were ringing or my entire fucking head.
I stepped outside into the night air, which was only slightly cooler than the temperature inside the bar, yet it still offered a reprieve to my flushed skin. Digging into the small wristlet hooked on my arm, I took out a smoke and slipped the thin stick between my lips. The familiar weight and taste of the tobacco instantly calmed me, and I closed my eyes for a moment to appreciate the paper hitting my tongue. Anticipation of the first drag shrank the ringing in my ears.
I loved smoking as much as I loathed it. Cigarettes and I had developed an unhealthy love/hate relationship. They did something that no counselor or pill had been able to: quiet the noise inside my head, allay the overwhelming feelings, and soothe those nasty bouts of anxiety.
The flame from my lighter jumped to life, warming my face as I brought it to the end of the cigarette until it caught. A handful of other people loitered along the building, either smoking or talking in a group with their friends. Knowing there were people around made me feel less likely to be snatched off the streets and murdered in a ditch. As a girl, night or day, thoughts of safety were always in the back of my mind, especially when alone. Sad facts about the world we lived in.
But no one paid any attention to me, and I took comfort in being invisible, just a no-name girl hanging in the corner by herself.
Yet it didn’t take long for that safe feeling to morph into something unnerving. It kind of crept up on me, like a spider dangling from the ceiling and landing on my shoulder. I glanced behind me, half expecting to see the shadow of a giant bug looming over me, but nothing scary or unusual lurked in the darkness. Not that I could see.
Shaking my head to clear the negativity that tiptoed in, I lifted my cigarette to my lips only to have it plucked from my fingers before it reached my mouth.
I whirled my head to the side.What the hell—
CHAPTERNINE
MADS
The last person I wanted to see tonight took a quick inhale of my cigarette, his lips curving at the corners. Sterling Weston. He wore a black V-neck tee and jeans tucked into a pair of combat boots. Nothing about the way he looked screamed president of a fraternity, and that threw me off. His look and attitude didn’t align with the stereotypical frat brat.
To think, if the Elite had shown up at the bar an hour later, they might have crossed paths, and the night would have had a very different ending than it was about to.