She grins at me as I climb inside the passenger seat and blow on my hands to warm them. "Ready?"
Am I? I'm wearing a sexy dress and my high heels, and I spent way too much on my hair and make-up. I feel like a high-school girl going to the prom.
Ridiculous.
What sort of person does it make me that I'm excited to go out with Sydney, even if it means she'll go looking for drugs and trouble, on the off chance I might see Jarett?
That I care less about the fact she's looking for drugs and more about the possibility of Jarett being around?
Sick. This is sick. And I should stop.
But I can't, can't stop the way I feel, the way my heart is racing and my face gets hot, the way my belly tightens with desire at the thought of seeing him again.
"Where are we going?" I glance outside the car window, not seeing anything, as she drives back toward the city. "Another frat party?"
"No." She seems focused on the road, but her eyes flicker, as if she's in deep thought. "Not this time."
Great. "I trust you. You know that."
She glances quickly sideways at me, mouth quirking in a faint smile. "I know."
"But Syd … when will you tell me more about what's going on?" At her silence, I plunge on. "You know I love you like a sister. I worry about you."
"You shouldn't worry."
"How can you say that? I watch you meet with drug dealers, I watched Jarett fight them off you-"
"I never asked him to interfere."
But I did. I don't say that. "He was trying to protect you."
She shakes her head, her expression hardening. "I was fine."
"Tell me this: do you do drugs?"
"I don't, Gigi." Another glance my way.
But her gaze doesn't linger, and I can't tell if she's telling the truth.
"What about your friends? Your boys. Do they know?"
"Know what? Nothing's happened." Her mouth settles into a thin line. "Will you let this go?"
"For now." I sigh and let my head drop back, let the hum of the car engine and the rock music playing low on the radio calm me. It's been a long week, lots of classes and quizzes and worry. "Will your boys be at the party tonight?"
A shrug. "I don't know."
I blink. "What?" The four of them have always been inseparable. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. They're not my boys. We're just friends. They do their thing, I do mine."
"You guys fought?"
"No. We're good."
But you've always done everything together, I want to say. You've been attached at the hip since forever. All four of you.
What else happened? What isn't she telling me?
Is this why she's doing drugs? Because she's sad? I mean, here's the thing. No matter how hard I try, no matter what she says, I saw her with those guys, with that girl in that back alley. I saw the small plastic bags. So I'm not sure I can believe her.
I think she's lying to me.
About more than just this.
And I'm going to find out the truth.
We park on a side street and walk down a long alley, our heels clicking way too loud in the eerie quiet. I keep glancing over my shoulder, expecting to be assaulted.
Not cool.
I open my mouth to tell Sydney that I'm calling an Uber to go back home, when she stops and raps her fist on a big metal door.
"Where are we?" I hiss at her, still glancing around me uneasily. "What is this place?"
"It's a night club. Java Bar."
I've rarely been to this side of town, and never to this nightclub. "And why are we here?"
"A friend invited me."
The bouncer, a huge gorilla, looks us over, his lip curling, and a look I don't like entering his beady eyes.
Then he nods and opens the door wider, letting us enter.
"It's a great party," Sydney says, smiling and tugging on my sleeve. "Come on."
She steps inside, and I follow cautiously, arms wrapped around myself, unease curling in my gut.
In retrospect, I should have expected this. I knew what was coming, but my mind had cheerfully disconnected the nightmare from the fantasy of finding Jarett again.
Smoke curls in the spotlights, and to the thump of a heavy beat, bodies move, jerk and twist, the light catching on their faces, their hands, glowing lines on their clothes.
A round bar is set up in the middle of the vast space, luminescent, a glowing donut galaxy floating in space. We wade through the writhing, dancing crowd, heading toward it, and the glazed smiles and dazed eyes I notice in passing don't bode well.
Oh yeah, lots of drugs here.
Jesus. A rave party.
"Syd, wait." I hurry after her, catch her elbow-but a shove from a guy passing by loosens my grasp. "Don't you dare go off and leave me."
But of course she can't hear me. I can barely hear myself think in the deafening beat of the electronic music, and the thump of hundreds of feet jumping and stomping and shuffling on the floor.
Crap. This is my fault, for agreeing to come along.
Just don't let her out of your sight, I order myself. Not for a second. Stick to her like a tick, don't let her take a step alone.
You've got this.
But as it turns out, I don't even have to try. Sydney turns and waits for me to catch up, then hooks her arm over mine and drags me to the bar where we leave our jackets.
And then we dance.
We dance and dance and dance, only stopping to grab a drink, and then returning to the beat.
It's like the past few weeks haven't happened. It's fun, swaying together with my bestie, doing moves that have nothing to do with the music, turning and dancing back to back, flirting with strangers with that feeling of security that comes from knowing you have someone you trust right there, ready to pull you away if things go south.
It rocks. It's so awesome, and I'm so frigging happy I could cry. The worries slough off me like dead skin, and I'm light like the smoke rising toward the ceiling. The world is set back to rights, and I'm at the center of it, dancing and laughing.
It feels as if life is back to normal, that it was off-center and is now sliding back into place. A ritual of friendship we repeated too many times to count since we first met back when I first moved here.
At the same time I met Jarett-but I won't think about him, about coming here hoping to see him, about what we did last time we met at the frat house.
Better this way. No drugs, no danger-no Jarett.
I should be glad.
I am glad.
Sydney pulls on my hands, and we spin together giggling, a circle of perfect synchrony, an eddy of light.
Eventually, she drags me back to the bar where she convinces the bartender to get us new drinks-a beer for me, a vodka shot for her.
As I settle on a free stool, she leans in to shout in my ear.
"Just going to the bathroom! Be right back."
I nod, and smile, and watch the bartender unscrew my beer and pour her shot, until my fuzzy brain catches up.
I said, don't leave her alone for a second, the little voice of reason in my head says.
But she's only going to the bathroom.
Are you serious right now?
Oh God … It can't be. She didn't distract me, and appease me, and spin me around until I was dizzy and trusting, only to go and do what I'd hoped she wouldn't do, right?
I hop off my stool and go after her.
Only one way to find out.
Chapter Twelve
Jarett
Seb is wasted. Booze and weed and fuck knows what else. He's listing where he's leaning against the wall of the club.
At least I won't be chasing him around tonight, prying him off unwilling girls and breaking up fights he'd start for no reason with other guys.
Mav is talking with Angel by the Gents door, and catches my eye. He gestures, and I leave Seb to go see what he wants with me. I'm rarely involved in gang business, at least directly. Look-out, bodyguard, and muscle-that's what I am. That's what I do so they'll keep my brother safe.
"Go take a look," Mav says, nodding at the bathrooms. "Shem was supposed to be a minute, and we're going. Go get him."
"He got in Mooney's face earlier," Angel says, and nods at the bathrooms. "Just FYI."
Great. They think the other gang jumped Shem in the bathrooms. That idiot. What was he thinking? He always struts about, thinking he's the shit.
"Okay, going in. You gonna be here?"
Angel glances at Mav. "We'll be waiting outside. Just get him out."
I don't ask why Mav and Angel didn't go in there to look for Shem. Maybe afraid a cop is lurking somewhere, waiting to catch them if they get into a fistfight. The gang may still be relatively new, but Mav and Angel have already made a name for themselves. Ruthless. Cunning. Getting deeper into drug trafficking.
If I was smart, I'd have never come near them. I'd have run away. That's what Connor taught me. That's what my rational mind tells me to do. Leave, skip town and disappear, cut loose all ties and make a new life somewhere else.
But what life is there when you leave the only family you have? When the only people who care about you, the people you promised to take care of, are right here?