Chapter 4 #2
My suspicion that this is no “small gathering” is confirmed when we walk through the door into a full-blown party. Bodies in costumes fill the space. Music blasts from the speakers. Flashing lights. Halloween decorations everywhere. And the air is thick with sweat and the smell of alcohol.
My shoulders curl forward and the back of my neck prickles, moisture gathering along my hairline, possibly from my body preparing for flight.
I turn to Jersey, finding her eyes and mouth rounded in surprise as well, like she wasn’t expecting this, either. At least I know she didn’t lie to me about it.
But where my eyes are round and filled with apprehension, hers are alight with interest. Regardless of anything, this is her scene. This is fun for her.
It used to be fun for me, too . . .
A smile starts tugging at the corners of her lips, but when she meets my eyes, it switches directions, making a concerned pout instead.
Fake it, I tell myself.
Jersey opens her mouth to say something, but before anything comes out, Matt—only half-dressed—appears from the crowd and lifts her by the waist, slinging her over his shoulder. She screams and laughs, half-heartedly hitting his backside and telling him to put her down.
They’ve been dating since that night, and I’m happy for her, I really am. But his presence means I most likely won’t see much of her tonight.
“Hey, Jen!” Matt yells over the music, but he doesn’t stick around for a reply. With a quick spin, he carries Jersey back the way he came, her body still folded over his shoulder.
She lifts her head and our eyes meet, hers filled with an apology because she’s leaving me here, standing just inside the front door. And then they disappear through a group of dancing partygoers.
Circling my arms around my body, I run my gaze around the room, my teeth scraping across my lower lip. I recognize a few faces here and there, but the majority are unknown, and some are wearing masks so I can’t tell who it is.
What am I supposed to do now? I don’t want to dance. I’m not going to drink. So why am I even here?
Scratching my arm, I stand, watching everyone for another minute before internally shaking my head.
Get it together. Try to have some fun.
My lungs feel tight as I attempt sucking in a fortifying breath, but I force the air in, regardless. I could really use a drink right now—water, not alcohol—but I don’t know if that’s even an option here. I guess there’s only one way to find out.
Finally moving from the spot I’ve occupied since stepping through the door, I go in search of the kitchen.
Slipping between people, I make my way in the direction of the light I can see on the other side of the apartment.
Witches, guys in Scream masks, Freddy Kreuger, and many other costumes pass by in a blur, some trying to get my attention by touching me. I flinch away from their hands and ignore them all.
The kitchen is less packed than the rest of the place, but still a few people linger, pouring drinks or chatting. I look around in search of a bottle of water, but I come up empty. Even the sink is filled to the brim with ice and drinks, so you can’t maneuver a cup under the tap.
Sighing, I lean my hip against the counter, making sure to avoid the sticky areas from spilled drinks.
“Look at what the pirate ship dragged in. Haven’t seen you around much lately.”
Somewhere between the beats of the song, the chatting and laughing, and the general chaos inside this apartment, I recognize that voice.
Head swinging to the right, my gaze lands on none other than Dylan. You’d think I’d be relieved to see a familiar face—especially with him working with my father a lot—but the feeling never comes. My shoulders never loosen, and my guard stays up.
He’s wearing a clown suit with nothing but a creepy red smile painted on. I step back and give a small wave since I don’t want to be close to him.
Dylan’s arm is wrapped around the waist of a clearly drunk girl dressed as a ladybug, with glazed-over eyes and a lopsided smile. I wonder if she even knows what she’s doing.
His eyes run over me as if he were inspecting my outfit, only it feels wrong, gross. “Pants. Smart move . . . less easy access.”
A choked breath escapes me, and I feel myself leaning further away, my nails stabbing into my palms.
With his free hand, Dylan lifts a red solo cup, offering it to me with a glint in his eyes. “You look like you need a drink.”
My skin prickles again as I stare at the thing with dread, like the cup itself is evil. I shake my head immediately. The last time I drank out of a cup like that . . .
“It’s just a drin—”
“I don’t want it.”
Dylan, not seeming to care the least bit about what he might be triggering just shrugs. “Whatever.” Then he starts walking away, guiding his stumbling girl to what I suspect is the hallway to some bedrooms.
A full body shiver runs over me, and I realize my hands are shaking.
Swallowing, I look back at the crowd. I don’t see the girls anywhere.
God, I don’t want to be here. I feel uncomfortable. On edge. Seconds away from losing it.
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath to try to calm myself. But that same breath is knocked out of my lungs in the next second when a hard body boulders into me, spilling liquid all over my chest.
“Aw, fuuuck. I’m sorry,” the guy slurs. “Let me get that for you.” He reaches for my chest with his bare hand, as if it can somehow soak it up, but I step back, terrified. “What’s your p-problem. I was juss tryna help you.”
Another guy joins him, and together, they stand in front of me, looking formidable. “What the fuck’s going on?”
“She was being a bissch.”
Ears ringing, I curl inwards. The space around me shrinks, the lights too bright, the noise too loud.
Trapped. I’m trapped. Helpless. Alone.
Without a second thought, I push past the two guys and everyone else in my path to race to the front door, shoving it open once I reach it.
But I don’t stop there. I keep running to the elevator, pacing in the little square box all the way down. Then, as soon as the door opens, I run out of there and through the entrance to the building . . .
. . . and straight into another hard body.
I yelp while he lets out an “Oof” as our bodies crash together, me almost falling backward after the impact.
Reaching out, he takes hold of my arms to steady me. “Whoa, you okay?”
My lungs are burning, breaths coming out fast, but when I finally right myself and push the hair off my face, everything comes to a halt, including my air supply.
Almost black eyes, that you could hide a thousand secrets in, stare back at me.
Mase Turner. Jacob’s friend.
He’s not dressed up for Halloween—wearing only jeans and a faded T-shirt, his black hair being tossed around by a breeze—but the sight of him is still scary.
I quickly step back out of his grip at the same time his eyes flare with recognition. My pulse thrums wildly, and I’m sure he can see it.
The deepening groove between his brows has me edging further back, unsure of what he’ll do, which only seems to make his frown worse.
Does he want revenge for his friend?
Is he just like Jacob?
“Jennifer—”
I don’t stick around to find out what he has to say or what he’ll do. I spin around and run in the opposite direction.
My heart is a heavy drumbeat, but it almost jumps up through my throat when I peek over my shoulder and see Mase running after me.
Oh god.
“Jennifer, wait. I just want to talk to you.”
Lungs tight and fear pumping through my veins, I keep running as fast as I can, turning a corner to try to lose him.
I almost collapse in relief when I see a cab idling by the curb. I don’t even care if someone is in there already or they aren’t working right now, I jerk the handle open and dive into the back seat, slamming the door behind me.
“Go, go, go!”
“What the—” Startled and flustered, the driver puts the car into drive and takes off. Wide-eyed, he looks at me through the mirror. “Is everything all right?”
“Y-yes. Thank you. I just . . . didn’t want you to leave without me.”
He arches a bushy brow that tells me my excuse was shit. “Do I need to make a phone call?”
“No,” I insist, still heaving in breaths. I turn to look out the rear window, tensing up when I see Mase standing on the sidewalk where the taxi was idling, hands in his pockets, watching me drive away. “I just want to go home.”