Chapter 14
“Let’s head to my dorm. We can get ready and then go to the party,” Amy says with a smile as we exit our lit class.
I don’t know how to tell her that the only decent outfit I have is a hoodie and leggings—the same ones I wore earlier this week. I really want to go, and in a way, I should make the most of my time before Garret comes for me. And it won’t be just to tell me he has breakfast waiting in the kitchen.
He’s been avoiding me all week. I hardly see him except when he feeds me and drops me off at school. The rest of the time, he’s nowhere to be found. Not that I’m looking for him. Who would want to see the one person who is going to kill you?
Maybe he’s giving me space.
There isn’t much I can do.
“Um . . . I didn’t bring any clothes to change into.”
“No worries! I have something that would look great on you. I don’t mind.”
“Are you sure?”
No one has ever offered to let me borrow anything. I can’t shake the feeling that I might be overstepping. I don’t really know her that well—aside from the time we went to Babylon and our classes together.
“Yeah, I have this perfect dress with a black leather jacket that would look sooo cute on you.” Her eyes sparkle with excitement, and I can’t help but smile.
I check myself out in the bathroom mirror of the dorm building. I look different. Amy applied eyeliner and a layer of foundation to my face. I’m wearing a tight dress with over-the-knee boots. I’m grateful for the jacket, but I’m unsure about showing five inches of thigh between the hem and the edge of Amy’s heeled boots.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask nervously.
I’ve never intentionally dressed up for anything. The few times I had no choice were for reasons I prefer not to think about right now.
I’m sure Garret wouldn’t care I didn’t show up. But maybe he might. He never said I had a curfew or that I was obligated to wait for him after his swim practice. I simply didn’t show up and ignored his last text asking where I was.
“You look gorgeous, Rose.”
I catch Amy’s red-lipped smile in the mirror’s reflection. “So do you.”
Amy is wearing skintight black jeans and a pink crop top that highlights her trim waist. Her strawberry-blonde hair is a cute contrast to her outfit.
As I shut the passenger door of the Uber—Amy insisted on paying for it—my legs shake. I watch the two red lights disappear down the road as the sun sets.
The volume of the music blaring from the house fluctuates, fading each time the front door opens and closes.
“Come on,” Amy says, grabbing my hand. I stumble as she practically drags me toward the front door.
A couple of guys hold the door open with wide smiles when they see us. “Welcome, ladies,” says the one with freckles, stepping behind us.
My internal radar kicks into full force as the smell of alcohol, heat, and perfume hits me like a wave from all the people crammed into the living room.
People dance to the beat of Kendrick Lamar’s Not Like Us , singing the lyrics.
“Holy shit,” Amy says over the music. “This is crazy.”
A guy holding a keg of beer cheers while a girl underneath it tries to drink as much as she can, not caring that beer is pouring down her shirt—her nipples visible through the soaked fabric.
Two guys stand on either side of one girl as she takes turns French kissing them.
A ping-pong table is in the back. The girls are topless. Their breasts bounce harder than the ball every time they swing the paddle.
If this is an Ohio frat party, I can only imagine the type of party Garret throws. Orgies must be an understatement.
“Let’s get a drink,” Amy suggests, pulling me through the throng of people.
Curious glances follow me as Amy pushes through. They all must be from Ohio, because I have yet to see anyone from Kenyan.
Amy reaches the kitchen and grabs two beers from a bucket of ice. She pops the top off with a bottle opener and hands me one while she chugs the other.
A guy with light green eyes looks over. It’s hard not to get lost in their bright depths. I’m not sure if it’s a trick of the light. A guy with brown hair slaps him on the shoulder playfully.
Green Eyes nudges his head in our direction, says something to his friend, and they both head over.
“Do you know them?” Amy asks, taking another sip of her beer.
“No.”
“They’re kind of cute,” she says. “They have to play football.”
I understand why she made that assumption. These guys are not small by any means. They are big—with large hands and wide necks—the type that play football.
“Hey,” Green Eyes says when he reaches me.
His friend watches Amy with interest.
“Hi,” I reply a bit awkwardly.
I tune out Amy and the other guy. We stare at each other for a few seconds.
I’m not sure why he walked over, but all I can think is that he must want something. Or he’s just curious. Recognition wraps around me like a blanket. It’s like I’ve seen him before but never really paid attention.
My focus sharpens on the guy in front of me—his green eyes, the tiny freckles on the bridge of his nose. The way his mouth lifts higher on one side when he grins. He’s not Garret by any means. He doesn’t make my heart hammer in my throat. He doesn’t make me wonder how it would feel if he kissed me. If I was the Darkthorn he called to make him bleed.
This guy is different in every sense. He doesn’t know who I am. He doesn’t look at me with disgust. He’s looking at me like I’m human—a girl at a college party.
“Your name is Rose, right?”
How does he know my name?
Then his voice digs the memory out . The diner. The guy with the cowboy hat.
“Yes,” is all I manage to say.
“I’m sorry about the other night. I didn’t get to give you my name since we were so rudely interrupted.”
He holds out his hand, and I take it, almost dropping my beer. If he notices, he doesn’t point it out. His hand is rough but firm.
“I’m Leo. Short for Leonidas.”
“Spartan!” his friend chimes in.
I arch a brow. Leo smiles. “My mom had a thing for the movie 300 .”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I nod. I’ve never watched the movie, but I don’t want to sound clueless.
“Where’s your cowboy hat?” I ask instead.
If anyone looked good in one, it would be him.
“You like the hat?”
“It’s different. Kind of like your name.”
His gaze drops to my beer, already getting warm. “Do you like beer?”
I shrug. “It’s what everyone is drinking.”
I tilt the bottle and wince at the bitter, lukewarm taste.
He chuckles, grabbing it from my fingers and tossing it in the trash. “Let’s get you something that doesn’t taste like piss.” He flips the lid from a nearby cooler and hands me a Coke can. “I like my girl sober.”
His words wrap around me like a warm embrace. For a moment, it doesn’t matter that I have an ugly past. Or that after tonight, I will never see him again. He is a moment. Normal in all the ways I couldn’t be.
So when he asks if I want to dance . . .
I don’t hesitate.