Itug at the sides of my hoodie as we walk up to the dance club’s entrance. It’s the only piece of clothing I’m currently wearing that I actually feel comfortable in.
I swear Jacob must have been cackling evilly to himself when he grabbed this sparkly halter top and jeans so tight they’re practically painted on. But I couldn’t even argue that my comfy tank tops and sweats make appropriate clubwear.
How the hell did I let the guys talk me into this? Oh, yeah, because it’s the first time they’ve asked me to doanythingthat actual friends would do.
Even if it’s hard to imagine from Jacob’s current sour expression that I’ve made any progress at all with him.
The pulsing bass emanating from the club makes me uncomfortable too, in a different way. The beat is already resonating through to my bones, tugging at my limbs.
But I’ve never danced in front of anyone before. Now I’m going to be surrounded by both strangers and three of the four guys I was most nervous of showing my few secrets to.
I can’t be glad that it’s only three out of four, because Dominic is the one I’d worry least about judging me for my physical grace. But he wasn’t going to get away with a parka or even a trench coat in a dance club, and the other guys accepted him begging off without argument.
Theyknow why he keeps himself so covered up—I’m sure of it. One more way I’ve found myself outside of the circle of trust that was once so solid between all of us.
Well, I don’t have to let myself really tear up the dance floor. For all anyone here knows, the most I’d ever want to do under the flashing club lights is bob a little with the rhythm.
The bouncer waves us in, and warm air rushes over us with a tang of alcohol. It’s still pretty early in the night, but a lot of people must agree with Brooke’s assessment of the DJ or have a craving for cheap drinks, because figures are swaying and laughing all across the long but narrow room.
The space is painted all dark purple except for splotches of white that give off an unearthly sheen under periodic sweeps of black lights. The bar counter that stretches along the side wall gleams glossy white too, making the drinks set on its surface glow like some alien tonic when the black lights wash over them.
A tremor runs up my legs, prickling through my flesh with the toxin that’s nibbling away at my insides. Ignoring it, I hold my head high and walk farther in as I scan the space for Brooke’s bright red hair.
It was her idea that I come, so I’d better make sure she knows I did. Maybe now that I’ve accepted one invite, she won’t feel the need to keep extending more.
Our neighbor spots me first—she emerges from the crowd at my right and taps my arm, grinning widely.
“You made it!” she hollers over the thumping music. “It’s good to see you here.”
“I’m not much of a dancer,” I say in a pre-emptive apology.
She makes a dismissive gesture and motions me over to the bar. “Get a couple drinks in you, and you won’t worry about that. They make the best cosmos here.”
The idea of gulping down the fermented liquid I can taste in the air sets all my nerves on edge. The guardians had us try alcohol a few times, just to ensure we’d be prepared for it if we encountered a situation where we needed to drink—or decided to give it a try out of curiosity’s sake—on one of our outside missions. But I never enjoyed the impression of my senses going fuzzy.
I’ll feel better if I can stay fully alert.
“Not right now,” I tell Brooke hastily, buying myself a little time before I have to get into any questions of why I wouldn’t drink at all, and fumble for an easy excuse. “I already had something before we left. Don’t want to go too fast.”
I think that’s the sort of excuse I’ve heard people offer in made-up stories, and it appears to work well enough in real life.
“Oh, for sure,” Brooke says without any sign of concern, and grabs me by the wrist to drag me over to where her friends are dancing.
The other girls all offer tentative smiles and then go back to shimmying with the music. Thankfully, this isn’t the kind of place where anyone would expect a proper getting-to-know-you conversation.
Maybe Andreas was actually brilliant suggesting that we take Brooke up on her invite. Not only are we putting on a better show of being regular college students, I’m getting in some normal socializing without actually needing to be all that social.
And soon we’ll be moving on from the campus and we won’t need to pretend anymore. I hope.
I shuffle from side to side and wiggle my arms with the beat, feeling incredibly dorky but at least in control. One of Brooke’s friends catches another’s hand and spins her around. Another throws back a shot and weaves away from us to order another.
Brooke giggles with them and bops along with the music, doing nothing more elaborate than I am but somehow looking like she fits in here perfectly. I guess most people around us aren’t pulling off fancy moves anyway.
My gaze travels over the crowd—and snags on Jacob about ten feet away. He’s turned with his profile to me, but there’s no mistaking the breathtakingly chiseled planes of his face, turned even more ethereal when the black lights hit his blond hair and pale skin.
I’m not the only one who notices that either.
A couple of women in club gear skimpier than mine, strapless corset tops and pleated skirts, are fawning over him. As I watch, one trails her hand down his arm from shoulder to elbow. Another leans close to murmur something in his ear, a sly smile curving her darkly stained lips.