Chapter 23
Bastian
LAST FRIDAY
Agony Hollow doesn’t have many bars where students hang out. I figure it will take less than an hour to track Kai down in one of them.
I’m wrong.
It only takes fifteen minutes.
The heat, noise, and stench of The Hollow Point enfold me the moment I push through the busy bar’s entrance.
“Kai, Kai, Kai, Kai—Whoo!”
The Friday night beer pong competition was what made me think to try this bar first.
A crowd is gathered near the back, chanting Kai’s name with the fervor of young drunk people.
I ease through the press of bodies, twisting to avoid contact.
A student from my class gives me a double take, but my dark gray hoodie and jeans are the perfect disguise.
Even if someone does recognize me, I’ve been in this bar enough times that my presence won’t rouse too much suspicion.
My shoes peel up off the sticky floor with each careful step as I make my way to the quieter, darker end of the bar, near a heap of packing crates the staff haven’t gotten around to clearing out yet.
The sound system is blaring out indie pop loud enough to rattle the speaker strung up in the corner nearest me.
As I drag the last open bar stool deeper into the dark, the girl seated beside me slips off her stool and pushes her hips between her date’s thighs. He immediately grabs the back of her neck and starts kissing her.
They still haven’t come up for air when the bartender delivers their drinks.
At least they won’t remember me.
Probably won’t remember each other either.
I order a beer and watch the beer pong game.
More specifically, I watch Kai.
He’s standing at the far end of the beer-stained table, a red Solo cup in hand, grinning like he hasn’t a care in the world. His hair is disheveled, cheeks flushed. He’s well past tipsy and swiftly careening toward black-out drunk.
And fuck, how magnificent he is when he’s unraveling.
That mask he always wears—the ‘look at me now’ sneer and jock bravado—slips. He laughs too hard, speaks too loudly, and keeps bumping into his teammates.
And his phone barely stays in his pocket longer than five minutes before he pulls it out to check his messages.
Again…and again.
From the way his face darkens, he’s expecting something he’s not getting.
An apology?
Another angry DM to fuel that fire burning so incandescently in his eyes?
I wonder if Haven messaged him after she texted me, or if she’s playing hard to get.
…you were right about everything…
Her message couldn’t have come at a better time. Not only for Melissa’s sake.
For mine. For hers. For his.
The subtext was clear. She was angry. She wants him punished. And I’m only too happy to oblige.
Beside Kai, a boy wearing a neon-yellow bucket hat over his shaggy, shoulder-length hair is attempting to line up a shot while Kai pounds his shoulder in encouragement.
“Sink it! Sink it, you beautiful bastard!”
The ball arcs through the air. Lands in a cup with a splash. The crowd erupts, Kai’s voice the loudest of all.
“Yeah, bitch!”
Kai throws his arms around his friend, lifting the shorter boy off his feet in a bear hug that borders on aggressive.
Match won, Kai and his friends spend the next hour slamming shots.
He throws back J?germeister like it’s water, chasing it with enough tequila to make even his hardened frat bros wince.
It’s almost too easy.
I order another beer as they start up a new game. Patience is a predator’s greatest asset—the willingness to wait until the prey exhausts itself.
Or, in this case, drink himself into a stupor.
Kai gets progressively more wasted as the night continues.
I watch him lose another game of beer pong—badly this time. Watch him get into a brief shoving match with a guy who apparently looked at him wrong.
Watch him check his phone again. And again. And again.
Each time, his jaw tightens. Each time, he shoves it back in his pocket with more force.
She’s not engaging with him.
Good girl.
After another round of J?gers, Kai’s bucket-hat friend turns toward him, saying something in his ear. Kai nods enthusiastically, drains his cup, and follows his friend to the back of the building.
Toward the restrooms.
It’s not the first time he’s sauntered off in that direction…but it’s the first time he’s tagged a buddy.
My first—my very first—thought be that Kai’s about to get a hand job in the bathroom. I don’t welcome the unexpected flash of jealousy any more than I do the sudden urge to gouge out his friend’s eyes with my thumbs.
There’ll be time to unpack that later.
I give them a ten-second head start.
The hallway is narrow and dim, reeking of fryer grease and a dirty mop someone abandoned in the corner. Two doors on the left—men’s and women’s. A fire exit at the end, its metal door propped open with a brick to let in the frosty night air.
A guy exits the men’s room door as I round the corner. It’s not Kai or his friend, which means they’re still inside.
I catch the door before it can swing shut.
Inside, the fluorescent lights buzz. Two urinals, two stalls, a sink with a wide, grimy mirror. The Hollow Point bravely graffitied the walls with gang-style tags, but most of it’s flaking or has been gouged out in favor of crudely drawn genitals and slurs.
There’s someone at the urinal—again, neither Kai nor his friend. One stall is occupied, and I already know who’s inside.
But as I’m about to go into the adjacent stall, the person in the other one retches violently.
I duck down to check under the door. Someone’s on their knees, but from the sound—and smell—they’re not giving or receiving head. They’re emptying their fucking guts alone in the stall, because this is the kind of place Kai comes to nurse his bruised ego.
If the guy at the urinal thinks it’s strange that I just came to check who was in the bathroom, it doesn’t show in his glazed eyes or on his slack face when we make eye contact in the mirror.
Kai would have had to pass me if he’d gone back to the main bar.
My gaze skips to the partially open fire exit.
Outside in the alley behind the bar, the fall air is crisp and blustery. A gust of wind toys with my hair as it races past, and then makes a mess of Kai’s hair a moment later, forcing him to pull up his hood.
He’s leaning with his back against the brick wall, one foot up, puffing at a joint. Neither he nor his friend has noticed me, both too focused on the task at hand. I’m slightly disappointed I don’t have an excuse to permanently disable someone tonight.
I pop up my hood, turning my back to the floodlight as I let the door fall shut behind me.
The crash makes them both flinch. Kai’s head jerks to the side, eyes finding mine. I’m pleased by how well my pet recognizes its master—I can practically see the gears grinding as he tries to reconcile my presence with the current scenario.
“The fuck?” he rasps.
His friend squints at me through the haze of smoke drifting between us. His bucket hat is pulled low over his forehead to ward off the cold—same reason Kai’s hoodie is up, one hand shoved in the front pouch.
“You know this guy?” his friend asks.
Kai laughs darkly. He takes another drag, the cherry flaring orange in the dark.
I stay where I am, hands in my pockets, glad my face is in shadow.
Kai watches me for a moment, then gestures to the door as he eyes his friend. “Order us another round of shots, would you?”
Kruger’s eyebrows shoot up. “You sure—”
“Go, Kruger.”
Kai’s friend looks between us like he’s trying to solve a math problem several levels above his capabilities. Then he shrugs off our drama, a lazy smile creeping onto his face. “Whatever, man.”
Kai waits for the door to close behind him before his eyes slink back to mine. His face is partially lit by the floodlight, his hoodie shadowing the rest. I push mine down, running a hand through my hair as I step closer.
Now that we’re alone, there’s no more need for subterfuge.
“Stalking me now, Professor?” His words are slurring at the edges, consonants softening into mush. He chuckles. “Where d’you find the time? Thought you’d be too busy fucking my girlfriend.”
“Your girlfriend?”
“Fuck you.” Kai pushes off the wall, sways, and catches himself with a hand on the brick.
“Maybe.” I take a step closer, allowing myself a grim smile. “But only if you lose the attitude, boy.”
He laughs again—but it sounds forced. “You’re fucking insane.”
Another step. “Is that what keeps scaring you off?”
Kai watches me with an expression I can’t quite parse. Disgust, maybe. Or fascination.
Or he’s just stoned.
“I’m not scared of you.”
“Liar,” I scoff.
I’m close enough to smell the skunky sweetness of the joint still burning between his fingers. Close enough to see the way his pupils have blown wide, swallowing the green of his irises until they’re just thin rings around endless black.
Close enough to see the pulse jumping in his throat as I take another slow step toward him.
“What d’you want, Rooke?” His voice is rough.
“Same thing you do.” I pluck the joint from his unresisting fingers, bring it to my lips, and hit it hard. The smoke curls in front of my face, obscuring his scowl for a moment before the wind disperses it.
“You can’t have her. She’s mine,” he says, but there’s no strength in his words. No conviction.
The weed is affecting him—I can see it in the way his shoulders have dropped, the way his head lolls slightly to one side. Combined with all that alcohol, he must be swimming.
Perfect.
I take another drag. Blow the smoke directly into his face.
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink. Just breathes it in like he’s been waiting for someone to take control, so he can stop pretending he has any.
“Is she now?” I tease as I step into his space. Our chests are nearly touching, the heat radiating off his body cutting through the chill to warm mine. “Then tell me, Kai, why are you getting high in an alley like a delinquent when you could be with her?”
His jaw tightens. “Fuck off.”