Adrian leaned back and met his gaze. “I will. I promise.”
For a moment, I was sucked back into the nightmare—the one where I’d fallen asleep in my father’s arms and woken in Adrian’s; the one where he’d promised my dad the exact same thing he’d just promised my uncle.
Joe nodded gravely. “I’ll hold you to that. Remember, I know where you live.” Rachel smiled and dug her elbow into her husband’s ribs, hard. He sighed. “All right; get out of here and have fun.”
“Good night!” I called out over my shoulder and shut the door behind me. It was snowing and despite the heavy coat, I shivered. “Sorry about that.”
Adrian held out his arm and I latched on to it as we picked our way to the truck. He opened the passenger door and helped me in.
We listened to Frank Sinatra on the way to Trish’s house without saying a word. It was surprisingly pleasant to just lean next to him in the dark, in silence. Soon, we reached Trish’s house. Before I even had time to knock, it flew open.
“Happy New Year’s!”
Trish enveloped me in a bear hug and invited us in. Music was playing from somewhere in the house and streamers were hung from the ceiling. I saw all the girls, plus Ben and a few boys, as well as Trish’s parents and brothers. We took our coats off and Trish threw them in the downstairs guest room. When I turned back, Adrian was staring at me.
“What?” I asked, looking down at my dress, horrified that I’d spilled something or that my underwear was showing.
“Nothing,” he said, and looked quickly away. “You thirsty? I’m thirsty.” He steered us over to the snack table and poured me a glass of punch. Trish was passing by and I caught her arm.
“This isn’t … special punch, is it?” I muttered so only she could hear.
She grinned. “Sadly, no. My parents would kind of notice if I spiked the refreshments.”
I smiled and let her go. When I looked at Adrian again, he was refilling his glass.
“Are you okay?” I asked, touching his arm.
He glanced down at my hand, then back up at my face. “I’m fine.”
“Okay,” I said, puzzled.
“Caitlin?” a voice behind me asked. I turned and looked at a girl standing in a midnight-blue dress, her white-blond hair pinned back in a French twist.
“Yes?” I asked.
She blinked. I looked at her again more closely.
“Jenny?”
She smiled a little. “Trish helped me get ready.”
Not only was she wearing a dress instead of a washed-out, thrift-store sweater, she was also wearing makeup, jewelry, and heels. She was Jenny, but she was Jenny.
I gave her a startled hug. “You look amazing!”
She blushed.
“Hello, Caitlin,” I heard someone say behind me. It was Jack, Jenny’s twin. He nodded to Adrian in greeting.
Before I could reply, someone else joined our group.
“Hey,” Mark said, standing in slacks and a rumpled, paint-spattered shirt with his hair pulled back in a loose French braid. He looked like a scoundrel, in a romantic way, and Jenny blushed at the sight of him.
“Mark, right?” Adrian asked.
“That’s right. And you’re … Abram? Ayden?”
“Adrian.”
He nodded as if he remembered now. He looked at me, then Jenny, then Jenny’s brother. “I’ve already met Caitlin and Jenny, so you must be Jack.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Mark.”
Across the circle, I could see Jenny turn even redder. I even held my breath a little.
Jack shook Mark’s hand. “Thanks for inviting us.”
“It was all Trish’s idea,” he said. “I just live here. Speaking of, I have to go help my dear mother with the hors d’oeuvres. Enjoy the party.”
He made a quick exit, but not before making eye contact with Jenny for a split second.
“Jenny!” Stephanie called excitedly from across the room.
“See you later, Caitlin,” Jenny said, and escaped to the safety of a group of girls. Jack nodded at us and wandered off.
“What was that all about?” Adrian asked.
Not wanting to be overheard, I said, “Quick, hug me.”
He seemed to hesitate, but a moment later, I felt his arms circle my waist. I put my hand on his neck and pulled him down until I could whisper in his ear.
“When I was over here the other night, Jenny and Mark were up at four in the morning talking together in the kitchen. He asked her to model for him this summer. You’re objective. I was wondering if you could watch them tonight and tell me what you think.”
“You want me to spy on them?”
“Not spy so much as observe.”
“Why do you care?”
“I’m paranoid he’s your dad.”
Adrian turned sharply to look at Mark’s retreating figure, and I pulled his face back. “Don’t look now! You’re the worst spy ever.”
“I’ll check it out,” Adrian murmured.
“Movie’s starting!” Trish called.
“What’re we watching?” someone called out.