My chin quivered for a moment, and I had to swallow a few times, but I somehow stopped myself from crying. Emma had always wanted to attend a sleepover.
“Are you nervous?” Kat asked.
“Just a little.” If little was the new word for lot, of course. At least the rabbit was still a no-show.
“Why?”
Because I hadn’t been on an evening drive since the accident, and couldn’t help but clutch the seat, my stomach a writhing vomit bubble ready to burst. “Cars,” was all I said.
“Oh, yeah. Well, don’t worry because I’m the best driver you’ll ever meet. I swear to you now, hand to heart, that I’ve only had, like, three accidents and only two were my fault.”
Comforting.
“Cole’s had about a bazillion,” she added, “and you rode with him, right?”
“Right.” But I’d still felt safe…protected. Now? Not so much.
The sun was still out but going down fast, barely providing any light. But there was light, and this would be okay. At least, that was the mantra drumming through my head. Gradually, I relaxed.
“Where are we going?” I asked. “The game?”
“Nope. Cole never goes.”
“Then where?”
“A few things I noticed about our boys when I was dating Frosty. About once every two weeks, you can’t reach any of them. Whatever they’re doing, it’s violent and top secret.” There at the end her voice had taken on a sneering edge. “That was two days ago, which means they spent last night patching up their wounds. They’ll spend this one celebrating whatever secret thing they celebrate two days after disappearing and a day after healing. They’ll be at Hearts, the most exclusive club ever.”
I sat up a little straighter. Once every two weeks. The same time frame I’d discovered for the monsters. It could be a coincidence, but…Cole had tried to tell me something about the tracks and traps today. He’d had injuries the night after I’d seen Bridezilla. We’d envisioned fighting the monsters together.
He had to see them in real life, too. He just had to.
“When the boys are missing,” I said, trying not to give in to excitement, “do you know where they go?”
“Nope, but like I said, they’re always beat-up the next day. Some of them even miss days or weeks of school afterward. Strange, if you ask me, but Dr. Wright never gives them any lip about it, so why should I?”
Another bead of evidence. The length of recovery time. Serious injuries from serious creatures. Were he and his friends actually seeking out and warring with those monsters?
If so…that would mean the monsters were real. That would mean my dad had been the sanest person at home. That would mean everything he’d ever said was true, and I had wrongly blamed him for his paranoia.
“I hope you’re excited because this club rocks!” Kat said. “Technically kids our age aren’t allowed in, but Cole and company always are. Probably has to do with their scariness factor. Anyway, Frosty had me put on the list, and because he secretly hopes I’ll do exactly this and spy on him, I’m just positive he hasn’t removed my name.”
Forget spying. I wanted to talk with Cole. Wanted to ask him questions about the monsters and the visions, gauge his reactions. He wouldn’t tell me outright, and I wouldn’t ask outright, but maybe I could trick him into spilling. Or, I don’t know, flirt until he couldn’t help himself. I looked down at my T-shirt and jeans. As I’d already learned, this outfit would not convince him to drop any secrets.
“Uh…Kat?”
“Don’t worry,” she said with a laugh, clearly knowing exactly what was bothering me. “We’re making a pit stop first. We’ll be smoking by the time we arrive at the club, you have my word.”
* * *
Smoking wasn’t the right term. Kat drove us to Reeve’s house and by the time Reeve finished with us, we were five-alarm blazing and should probably have been hosed down.
Apparently, Reeve had attended a school of beauty over the summer—which brought me to my next apparently. Apparently, Reeve was loaded.
She lived in a tall and sprawling mansion, with white columns, domed ceilings, chandeliers dripping with thousands of crystal teardrops, winding staircases and plush rugs with the most elaborate weave work. Out back was a pool as big as a football field. Oh, and there was an entirely separate section of the house where the servants lived.
Yeah. Servants.
Reeve dressed us in slutty, too-tight outfits and hooker heels. My “outfit,” or as I liked to call it, my Band-Aid, consisted of an ice-blue corset top, a micro-mini skirt with dark blue ruffles and ripped-up leggings. Black boots laced up to just under my knees.
With my pale skin, I’d never been one to wear makeup, but Reeve knew exactly what colors to apply to make my eyes pop, my cheeks appear rosy and my lips look like “plump candy apples all the boys will want to bite.” Her words, not mine.
Kat wore a long-sleeved top that veed all the way down to her navel, “forcing” her to ditch her bra. At least her legs were covered by a pair of skinny jeans, the lucky girl. Rather than jewelry, Reeve had given her a boy’s necktie that would play hide-and-seek with her chest.
Reeve dressed in a black-and-white polka-dot dress that flared at the hips and ended at the knees. She reminded me of a sexy seventies housewife.
Sometime during my transformation, Wren and Poppy arrived.
“I can’t believe we’re ditching the game for this,” Poppy said, gorgeous in a tank top, jean shorts and cowgirl boots.
“Better to support our friends than our team,” Wren said, “as long as you swear we’re not going to the club so that Ali can hook up with Cole and his gang of societal sores.”
Kat held up her hand, palm out. “Swear.”
As Poppy studied herself in the full-length mirror, she said, “Societal sores? Yes, they are losers, but is the witchiness really necessary, Wren?”
“I’m not a witch!” Wren said with a stomp of her foot.
“Are, too. The guy at Starbucks hit on me, not you, and you’re lashing out.”
“He totally hit on me.”
“Did not.”
“Did too!”
They continued to argue as we walked to Reeve’s SUV. Night was in full swing, casting shadows over the house and driveway. Porch lights offered the occasional safe haven, and kept me going. Fear would not control me tonight, though. I wouldn’t let it. Tonight was too important, my mission too critical.
On the drive, I spied what could have been a rabbit-shaped cloud. I told Reeve to slow down, convinced for a moment that we were going to wreck. But wonder of wonders, I must have been mistaken. We reached the club safely, no wreck, no deaths.
Kat gave her name to two ginormous bouncers I would have run screaming from in any other situation, and they allowed us to bypass the hundreds waiting to get in. We sailed inside, loud, raucous music instantly assailing my ears.
“Isn’t this wonderful?” Kat had to shout to be heard.
Wonderful wasn’t the right word. I’d seen things like this on TV, of course. Read about them in books. Listened to lectures from my mom. But this was exciting mixed with scary and sprinkled with a whole lot of this really can’t be happening right in front of me.
On the dance floor, men and women were writhing with Cirque du Soleil flexibility. At the bar, guys were doing body shots off girls. In the corners, a whole lot of making out was going on. I smelled sweat and perfume and a few things I couldn’t identify.
Building-wise, there were two floors. The bottom was where the dancing and socializing were done, and the top was for VIPs, maybe. An iron railing circled the second tier, allowing a clear view for those at the edge of a separate sectioned-off area. There I could make out black leather couches and chairs, iron tables and—
Cole.
Oh, glory, there he was. He sat on one of the couches, facing me, with Frosty beside him. He was talking to someone across from him and laughing. That amusement softened his face, making him look les
s scary and more Hollywood. He wasn’t wearing a hat tonight. Dressed in a black T-shirt that looked as if it had been painted on he was total smex appeal, and I wished I could see his lower half.
I nudged Kat in the stomach and pointed. She followed the line of my finger and clapped.
“Goody!” Rising on her tiptoes so that she was poised at my ear, she said, “Time to enact Operation Boys Will Cry. Stage one—make them notice us.”
“What?” Wren yelped. “I thought we were here to dance.”
“And so we will,” Kat said.
“What about spying?” I demanded. My ticket to Cole.
“We can’t really spy on them if they’re not spying on us, now can we?”
Warped logic, but okay. I wanted to talk to Cole, would talk to him, and yet suddenly all I could think was, oh crap, this won’t end well.
9
A Fiendishly Mad Tea Party
Okay. So. OBWC. Stage one, part A: Kat pilfered a beer from the tray of a passing waitress, took a swig, then handed it to Reeve, who took a swig and handed it to me.
This will relax you, she mouthed.
Without taking a swig of my own, I handed the beer to Poppy, who grimaced and handed it to Wren, who grimaced and set it on a table. The thing smelled like battery acid and moldy bread, and besides that, I too easily recalled all the problems alcohol had caused my dad. No way was I going there.
Stage one, part B: doing a bump and grind on the dance floor. We formed a train as we maneuvered our way to the center. There, Kat somehow forced everyone else to take a few steps back, leaving us in our own private circle. Anyone watching from the top floor would be unable to miss us.
Unlike Emma, I had no idea how to dance gracefully. Or attractively. But I watched the way the other girls moved their arms and hips and mimicked them. I must have succeeded, because all four offered me smiles of encouragement.
After what seemed an eternity of this I motioned Kat over, and when she reached me, I said, “I don’t actually want Cole to spy on me. I want him to talk to me.”
“Oh, he will. But listen, whatever you do,” she said, moving behind me and placing her hands on my hips, “don’t look up. I’m about to enact stage two. Stage three will commence soon after that, with no more action required on our part, so be ready.”
With a force of will I hadn’t known I possessed, I glanced at her over my shoulder rather than at the boys. “I want this to happen, but I have a bad feeling about how we’re going about it.”
“Good. I know I’m on the right track. So, here we go!” Like the sex kitten I was beginning to think she was, Kat spun around me and crooked her finger at a group of ultracute random guys.
Stage two: fanning the flames of jealousy.
The guys eagerly joined our little circle. Within minutes, masculine hands were roaming, and soft bodies were bumping into hard bodies. I was uncomfortable and embarrassed, and actually had to slap a boy’s fingers away from my butt, but I kept dancing, determined to see Kat’s plan through to the end. Not once did I look in Cole’s direction.
When I noticed that Reeve’s expression was as pinched as mine probably was, I twirled my way to her side—yes, I’m lame—allowing us to concentrate on each other.
Even though one of the boys maintained a station behind her, she offered me a relieved smile.
Finally, I begin to lose myself in the music. My arms lifted over my head, and my eyes closed. I swayed, spun—and smacked into a hard chest. Boys! I swear. I peered up, ready to tell whichever guy had decided to come after me to back off. I—
I never should have doubted Kat.
Violet eyes glared down at me, barely leashed aggression in their depths. Hard hands settled on my waist, jerking me closer…closer…until only a whisper separated us.
The words back off never formed. And, shockingly enough, neither did a vision.
“Let’s dance,” he said.
“You dance?” I squeaked. Gotta get that under control, Bell. Adrenaline fizzed in my veins. This boy exhilarated me in a way I’d never before known.
From the corner of my eye, I saw that Frosty had taken over Kat’s personal space. They were arguing and kissing, arguing and kissing. A boy I hadn’t met was positioned in front of Reeve, and when he wasn’t scowling at her, he was scowling at Bronx, who was backing the random cuties away from us. He looked ready to murder anyone who protested.
No one protested.
Other boys from Cole’s group were attempting to dance with Poppy and Wren, but the girls ignored them, turning away.
Cole cupped my cheeks and brought my gaze back to him. “Why wouldn’t I dance?”
Uh, maybe because at first glance he looked like he ate puppies for breakfast and kittens for lunch? As for what he enjoyed having for dinner—that couldn’t be discussed in polite company.
“Because you think it’s dumb?” The words emerged as a question rather than the statement I’d meant them to be.
“Something that allows a guy to put his hands all over a girl isn’t dumb. It’s genius.”
As he tugged me ever closer, I muttered, “I don’t know about this.”
“Then I’ll convince you. Now put your arms around me.”
“Orders again.” But you know what? I obeyed him. I even walked my fingers up his spine and sifted them into his soft, silky hair. I just couldn’t help myself. Touching him was a compulsion.
His pupils expanded, black overshadowing all that beautiful purple. “Most people are so afraid of me they jump to obey the moment I speak.”
Just a guess, but most people hadn’t imagined his tongue inside their mouth. “I’m not most people.”
“I know. What I don’t know is why you’re here.”
His stinging tone told me far more than his words. I wasn’t welcome. “I wanted to try something new,” I said, lifting my chin. I wouldn’t mention my plans to chat with him. Yet. Just then, I had to convince myself there were three things I would not allow him to do. 1) Embarrass me. 2) Intimidate me. Or 3) Send me running.
His frown was less dark and more confused. “What’s new for you? Dancing?”
And so much more, but all I said was, “Yes.”
“And you let some strange college boy grind all over you for your first time? That’s stupid, Ali.”
Not going to be embarrassed, not going to be embarrassed. “First, he wasn’t grinding on me, and second, you’re no better than him.”
A solid minute of silence, then “You are terrible for my ego, you know that?”
I could say the same to him.
“But I can’t seem to stay away,” he added.
I could have melted into a puddle on the floor. “I know the feeling,” I admitted.
His gaze lowered to my mouth, lingered for a moment before snapping back up. But that didn’t stop him from bending down, putting his lips to my ear and saying, “So you’ve imagined kissing me, huh.” A husky note had entered his voice. Something intimate, just for me, and a blush heated my cheeks.
That was part of what I’d wanted to talk about tonight, yet he’d been the one to bring it up. Score one for Ali. I pointed out, “The same as you’ve imagined kissing me.”
“I know. So how are you making me do that?”
“Me? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Yes, you. I never kid.” He tightened his grip on me, as if he assumed I’d bolt. “It has to be you. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before.”
“Well, nothing like that has ever happened to me before, either, so I’m blaming you!”
He lifted his head, studied me, and I wasn’t sure whether to love or hate the reason behind all that intensity. “Let’s tackle this from a less volatile angle. Have you wondered what it will be like for real?”
I…had no idea how to answer that. We continued to move together, rocking, swaying. His fingers flexed on me, lowered, and stopped at the curve of my butt, yet slapping his hands away was the last thing I wanted to do.
“Well?” he insisted.
Only the truth would do, I decided. “Yes, I have.”
“Me, too,” he rasped.
My knees almost buckled. “Are you saying…”
“That I want to discover if reality compares with imagination? Yes.”
Here? Now? My first reaction was panic. My second was more panic.
“Or not,” he added drily. I could feel his arms loosening on me. “I’m used to terrifying people, but not about something like this.”
I tightened my grip on him, forcing him to stay with me. “It’s just that…well, I’ve never…” Be quiet! He blinked down at me with a little confusion and a whole lot of incredulity.
“Are you trying to tell me that you’ve never been kissed?”
I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth. He looked so dubious, and his tone had bordered on insulting. “Yeah. So?”
“So, I’m shocked, that’s all. You’re…you.”
In-sul-ting. “Me?” I asked stiffly.
“Yeah. Hot,” he said.
Wait. Me? Hot?
He laughed down at me. “No one’s told you that, either, have they?”
I could only shake my head.
“You’ve clearly been hanging around idiots.” His gaze lowered—and stayed—on my lips, and he lost his gleam of amusement. “I’m going to kiss you, Ali.”
Here? Now? I thought again, my panic returning and my brain short-circuiting. “But I might be bad at it, and we don’t know each other very well, and you don’t— And I don’t— And we can’t—” The words rushed from me, but nothing came out fully formed.
“Apparently I do. And you will. And we can.” With that, he lowered his head, meshed his lips against mine and stole my breath.
In a snap, there was only Cole, this moment, his mouth…his taste. Mint and cherries. His heat, enveloping me. His strength, surrounding me. Caging me as if we were back in that grocery store parking lot, the Jeep behind me. I gave myself up to the sensations, lost track of everything but Cole.
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