Quest (The Boys of RDA Book 4)

by MEGAN MATTHEWS

  My words are lost in the rhythmic thumping of music playing over the speakers propped up throughout the warehouse. I’m twenty-four. That’s four years too old to be at this party.

  A rave.

  A Friday night rave.

  Plus, what if I see one of the kids from the center? There isn’t a logical reason for me to explain it away. What would I say? Official beer tester?

  “This is a horrible idea!” I yell into the open expanse since no one heard me the first time.

  I’m jostled as Marissa puts two hands on my shoulder bumping into me. “This is a great idea!”

  My eardrums throb, but I yell back. “I do not belong at a rave.”

  She laughs using a finger to point at her ear signaling she can’t hear me. “Okay isn’t a rave, it’s the hottest new dance club in town.”

  She walks toward the floor leaving me alone to ponder who in their right mind names a club Okay. And dance club my ass. We’re at a rave. I grew up in the city. You can fancy it up all you want, but we’re in an abandoned warehouse on the Eastside, which we learned about from a secret invite at the last minute. We’re at a rave.

  I didn’t think these parties were cool anymore. I guess if your club name is Okay and you’re in a crappy warehouse, being on trend isn’t your biggest concern.

  There’s a small part in the crowd from where Marissa pushed her way behind Aspen, and I use it to guide myself in their direction. The strobe lights flicker and bounce off the walls so I’m forced to blink as I check the individual faces for my friends. Or in this case, kidnappers.

  When I catch up to them Aspen and Marissa are wiggling their bodies to the music on the side of the dance floor. They jerk in time to the beat and end up looking like possessed party girls. Simone was the only RDA girl lucky enough to get out of tonight’s excitement. She’s supposed to have the flu, but it’s June and I used the same excuse a few weeks ago. It’s much more probable she saw them coming and took a page out of my book.

  I was blindsided by the dynamic duo on my front porch. They came with armfuls of all-white clothing. With Drew at a late night training for work and Grant in China, I didn’t have anyone available to make fake plans. And yes, I would have resorted to hanging out with Grant to get out of a Friday night rave.

  They finally won me over when Aspen admitted we were needed to support Amanda. The quiet, semi-regular member of the group has an apparent crush on tonight’s DJ.

  I had to come.

  Not only to support Amanda’s endeavors in the boy department and see her flirt, but to cast my eyes on this elusive man for myself. Amanda’s talked about a guy here or there, but I’ve never seen evidence they exist.

  Marissa turns back to me grabbing onto my elbow. “Let’s go.” My eyes brighten thinking she’s finally agreed it’s crazy and we’re headed home. “If we stick together out there, we’ll be okay.”

  She tugs me on the dance floor but I pull back. “I’m gonna sit this one out.” I slur the words together rapid fast so they’ll get lost in the music. Maybe Marissa will think I said I suffer from a preexisting back condition and can’t dance.

  In fact that is so genius it’s what I should have said when they showed up at my door tonight. Damn it.

  She points a finger at me and leans closer like she’s going to whisper, but with this racket I’ll only hear a yell. “Come on, Clare, live a little. Eat the burrito and all that shit.”

  “What?” I ask, but in my confusion I allow her and Aspen to pull me on the dance floor.

  The crowd swallows us up instantly. People are packed on the small dance square, bumping me on all sides with their bodies jumping in time to the music. We pass a shorter girl with her hands in the air, her neck and wrists covered by glow-in-the-dark jewelry. I scoff. We’re not a rave. Yeah right. I guess I’ll ignore the fact we’re the oldest people in this room.

  Marissa bumps her hip against mine and laughs as I step into Aspen. I roll my eyes, but then start following her dance moves. She’s not half bad. Less like she belongs on The Exorcist than she did earlier. Around sixteen Drew and I went through a big rave phase, so before I realize it I’m lost in the music and reliving the glory days of my youth.

  Eventually the bodies around me move in what feels like coordinated efforts. Our figures line up as the music flows through each of us. I close my eyes and get lost in the sweaty abandon of the warehouse.

  One song blends into another and it’s only when there’s a tap on my shoulder that I open my eyes again.

  “Drink?” Marissa asks, her closed fist to her mouth mimicking the words. Dance club sign language.

  I smack my tongue on the roof of my mouth realizing for the first time it’s dry. “Water!”

  She nods and turns away throwing a quick hand in the air pointed toward the corner. I stretch on my tiptoes to check and see Amanda propped on the side of the DJ booth. Her smile is so big her teeth are visible from here. I guess Amanda has a crush after all. The guy with long black hair and what I’m pretty sure is eye liner under each is totally not what I expected. But I guess we all have a type.

  With Marissa gone and Aspen swaying to the music like she’s at a Bob Dylan concert not a rave in San Francisco, I close my eyes and get back to the music. It doesn’t take long for someone to think I’m here by myself. Mystery hands wrap around my midsection from behind coming to rest above my belly button. I instinctively slow my dancing so I line up in speed and rhythm of whoever’s behind me.

  The mystery hands tighten, tugging me back closer to a solid body. He doesn’t do any more than that so I allow it. Once my mystery dancer starts trying to rub his dick into me or any other shady moves, I’ll put a stop to it and tell him off. But a bit of dancing with a stranger won’t be so bad tonight.

  It takes longer than expected for him to cross the line, but Marissa still isn’t back so either the wait at the bar is outrageous or my perception of time is wonky. Without thinking I lean my head to the side, exposing my neck. It’s possible he took it as an invitation to put his dirty stranger lips on it, but it’s still not cool. No one kisses me without my permission.

  I whip around ready to push him away and give him a piece of my mind with a lecture about consent but stop when our eyes make contact. My heart beats crazy in my chest. It must be off because of how loud and thumpy the music is. I’m sure I saw something similar on TV last month. Law and Order is considered educational, right?

  He smiles, his lopsided grin causing his small dimple to pop out. He runs a hand over the prickly stubble on his chin and my stomach flip-flops. Dressed in dark wash jeans and a short sleeve baby blue polo, there’s nothing for me to do but laugh. Somehow Grant found a way into the club without the all-white attire. Even in the middle of a rave he’s East Coast prep.

  “What are you doing here?” I yell pointing to the floor.

  “I can’t hear you.” His face pinches together in concentration. “Do… we’re… a rave?”

  Most of his words lost in the music, I only understand those heard in between beats. I throw my hands up in a defeated fashion and point a thumb toward Aspen. Grant nods his head in understanding.

  Marissa dances up behind Grant holding out the clear cup. A few drops splash on my white tank top as she’s bumped from behind while passing it over. She scowls at Grant and shakes her head in annoyance. Tonight is girl’s night out while the boys had a Friday night meeting at Cosmo’s. Read – a night of comics and other nerdy boy activities.

  Grant doesn’t seem offended by her annoyance. “Jake ratted you out.”

  I warned them it wasn’t a good idea for Finn’s personal driver to drop us off outside an abandoned warehouse on a Friday night. No clue why either of them thought it would work. With my drink out of her hand, Marissa rolls her eyes at Grant and goes back to dancing. If she’s smart, she’s trying to steal every moment before her significant other busts up the party. This is not a place I foresee her protective husband letting her spend a night.

 
Grant’s body moves to the music, our fronts facing one another, and I decide to go with it. Even though Marissa pretends to be upset, she’ll enjoy having Ryland here when he shows up later… probably sooner than later. The feeling catches me off guard, but I’m glad Grant is here rather than on another continent. A rave-warehouse isn’t where you’d expect to find him. Unless Grant is hiding a secret party guy persona underneath all that L.L.Bean, I have to assume he’s here for me.

  Strictly in a friend way of course.

  I take a sip from the cup and spit the clear liquid all over the floor and Grant’s shoes. Marissa laughs and shrugs at my confusion. He looks down on his leather sandals that probably cost more than a month’s rent but doesn’t yell. Instead he shakes his head and points to my glass. I hand it over and wait for him to sip the straight vodka. He doesn’t spit it on the floor, but his lips pinch together in confusion and he hands the plastic cup back.

  The music goes on and time passes. At some point Grant moved behind me and we resumed our dirty dancing, but he doesn’t go over the line again. We’ve passed the cup of clear liquid back and forth between us as the night’s gone on. I haven’t had a drink since the last time with Grant, and everyone knows how that night ended. I’ve kept my sips small and I’m just now starting to feel the alcohol. Three or four songs ago, Finn and Ryland descended on the place. Rather than whisk the girls off the dance floor, they stuck around picking up the beat and dancing with us.

  Sweat beads on my forehead and runs down the back of my neck. Marissa stops dancing and takes a step away from Ryland, signaling with an outstretched finger she’s taking a bathroom break. I couldn’t be more excited. The cup is empty and I need a break with a little room to breathe myself. Grant being so close, his body rubbing against mine over and over, has shot my nerves.

  Marissa charges her way through the crowd leaving a small opening for me to follow. When we reach it, the line stretches past the doors labeled for women and we take a place in the back.

  “It’s hot in here,” Marissa says pulling her damp white tank top away from her chest.

  The time on my watch displays 11 p.m. — normally the time I call it a night and head to bed. but after two hours of steady dancing I’m not tired.

  “You seem okay with the fact Grant is here,” she says still fanning herself with the top of her tank top.

  I shrug. “He’s okay.”

  Marissa lets the comment pass as she leans against the back wall. “Are you giving him a chance?”

  “A chance at what?” I don’t want to talk about Grant right now. Who knows what my answers will be.

  “I think you should.” My nose crinkles up at her suggestion. “Look, I’m not saying have sex with him again, but you’re with friends. You don’t have to act like he’s diseased.”

  “I don’t act like Grant’s diseased.” I’ve danced with him all night long.

  Marissa rolls her eyes at me. “You should see you two on the dance floor. There are at least two inches between you and every time Grant steps too closely, he backs off like he’s worried you’re wired with explosives.”

  The bathroom door opens and Marissa walks in for her turn. Is that how it looks? It felt to me we’d been grinding on each other all night. I’m hyperaware of his every movement.

  She didn’t say the words, but it’s not hard to figure out I’m the uptight one of the group. I’ve spent years deciphering ulterior motives of people. I know disappointment when I hear it. The peer pressure coming from this group is a guidance counselor’s worst nightmare.

  The door opens, two girls linking arms and giggling as they walk out. I walk into the bathroom and find the line continues on this side.

  “Don’t get me wrong.” Marissa picks up where we stopped. “Grant is a moron, but once you get to know him he’s a sweet and genuine moron.”

  “He’s not my type.”

  Marissa laughs, her eyes watching for a stall door to open. “I said the same thing about Ryland and look at us now. No pressure, but you could do worse.”

  You could do worse. Exactly the words a girl wants to hear about a guy her friend is obviously trying to set her up with.

  A stall opens and Marissa practically runs for it. I’m still waiting when she exits and washes her hands.

  “Do you want me to wait?” she asks walking by me in line.

  I take her empty stall. “No, I’m fine. I’ll see you on the dance floor.”

  The stall door closes, her reply lost in the beat of the music as the main bathroom door is opened.

  Bodies are crushed together in the small bathroom by the time I’m finished. I try not to look at myself in the mirror because no one looks good after two hours of dancing at a club, but the quick subconscious peek I catch isn’t too bad. My face is red, a color close to my strawberry blonde hair and a few strands stick to my forehead, but it’s still relatively straight. The eyeliner Aspen forced me to wear hasn’t run. I’m impressed.

  The door of the bathroom bangs on the outside wall as I leave like a woman on a mission. I’ve taken Marissa’s words to heart and I’m tired of always being the responsible one. I’m going out there to grind my ass on Grant. He won’t know what hit him. I almost feel bad for him.

  To my surprise the man in question waits for me outside the door. He steps in my path and drags me off to the side, handing over a new plastic cup.

  “Where are you headed looking like you’re ready to take on an army?”

  I can’t admit I’m about to get my freak on with him, so rather than answer, I distract myself with a cautious sip from the cup.

  Water.

  “Thanks.” I finish off the liquid and hand the cup back.

  Grant looks around and then tosses it on the floor where everyone else has decided to leave theirs tonight. “Everyone is getting ready to leave. Do you need a ride home?”

  All the momentum I worked up fades and my expression falls. “The night is still young.” I sound more enthusiastic than I am, but I wanted the chance to show everyone how I’m hip and cool too. It’s probably a good thing. I was more excited to dirty dance on Grant than I should allow myself.

  Grant laughs at my expression. “We can stay if you want.”

  It’s a nice offer, but one I shouldn’t take him up on. I need to figure out what my feelings are for Grant… and whether they are acceptable. I’m pretty sure I like him more than I should. “No, it’s fine. I’ll call for an Uber.”

  Grant’s mouth drops open in disgust. “I thought we discussed this? We’ll share a cab.”

  There’s no point in fighting with him when he gets like this. He’s too much like Drew, stubborn and bossy. For some reason they’re under the impression because I have a vagina I need a man to take care of me.

  Grant wraps an arm around my middle and we walk to the front of the warehouse. The place has only gotten fuller as the night progressed, so our progress is slow and hindered by the crunch of bodies. By the time we make it to the front door, I’m squeezed as tightly as possible to him.

  The air outside the club is chilly, but I’m not sure if it’s from the cool San Francisco climate or the temperature change from the 120 degrees it was inside. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself.

  “I don’t have a jacket for you.” Grant taps away at his phone, the bright yellow background of the app he’s using for a popular taxi company visible. “I should make it up to you with dinner.”

  It never ends with this man, but this time I smile at his persistence. “It’s after eleven. Nothing is open.”

  “My hotel has twenty-four-hour room service.”

  I grab my phone from my pocket to send a text letting Drew know I’m on my way home but stop at Grant’s words. “You are not getting me in your hotel room again.”

  “Do you think so little of me?” he asks but doesn’t wait for an answer. “We can order food and eat while you show me this castle you’re so fond of.”

  “Yeah right.”

  “I’m serious
. No funny business.” Grant takes the phone from my hand.

  “Hey!” He messes with the screens doing something I can’t see. “I already have your phone number in there.”

  “Yes, but now you no longer have the Uber app.” He hands the phone back, a satisfied little smile on his face. “From this moment forth consider me your new taxi service.”

  I roll my eyes but don’t put up a bigger fight because a cab stops at the curb. I’ll re-download the app later. It’s almost cute how he thinks I’ll listen. Grant holds the door open for me and I slide over to the other side making room for him. Which I regret when he gives the cabbie the address to this hotel rather than my house.

  “Grant…”

  “A quick tour of the castle and a sandwich. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Miss?” the cabbie asks, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror with questions.

  “Fine.” I give in.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “I can’t believe you took the time and materials to build your outer walls of smooth stone.” Grant stops his character’s movements to admire my work.

  The smooth stone towering high in the sky sparkles in the light. Some people paint. I build castles in online games. It’s my masterpiece. I don’t mind him appreciating the work.

  “Why? What’s yours made from?” I’ve heard about this huge castle Grant and the guys are so proud of.

  “Cobblestone. The building block of all good castles.”

  I laugh and take my character off the staircase to the second floor. “You mean the building blocks of all lazy castle builders.”

  “How long did it take you?”

  I stop my character and bite off a piece of the turkey sandwich room service dropped off five minutes ago. “Months. Maybe longer. I made the structure out of cobblestone and then replaced each block as more smooth stone became available.”

  I’m not sure if my dedication to this castle shows my good work ethic — I quarried the stone myself over many hours of game play — or if it’s an indicator that I have no life. Either way I probably shouldn’t be this proud or happy Grant appears blown away by my work.