Jaden (Jaded #3)

I shook my head. A twinge of envy started in me. I wished I could make things fine, just like that, with a quick fist bump.

Glancing around for Carolina, I couldn’t see her, but Mena was at the table, munching on the snacks. She seemed fine and content, but she wasn’t. I could tell that right away. As I watched her, she glanced over to the nearest group of girls beside her. A wistful expression appeared on her features and her lips dipped down for a brief moment. Then she would look down at the ground, her shoulders would rise and fall, and she’d grab another chip. It didn’t take a genius to know that she was lonely. She had no friends and she was staying at her brother’s house, where she wasn’t wanted by most of the guests. I felt for her. Mena had never really done anything to me. She just hadn’t earned Bryce or Corrigan’s trust and she faded away after that. Her mental illness took over, but she was back and the feelings of wanting to protect her were surging back up in me.

I was at the table before I realized I had even moved toward her. When she looked up, we were both shocked.

Her eyebrows lifted and she fell back a step. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” I frowned and raised a hand to make sure my mask was still in place. Wait—she shouldn’t have recognized me. Then I studied her again and saw the slight suspicion forming in her eyes. She hadn’t recognized me. I moved closer and said in a quiet tone, “It’s me.”

“Me?”

Ah, shit. I grinned. “Your favorite serial killer roommate.”

Understanding dawned and her eyebrows lifted again as she repeated, “Oh!” She ducked her head down and stepped over so our shoulders were almost touching. “What are you doing here? The guys would freak if they knew.”

I gestured to the stage. Denton was announced as the Alpha Mu Mermaid. “You don’t recognize your own brother?”

She squinted at him for a moment, then cringed. “Are you kidding me?”

She sounded pissed. I hadn’t expected that from her.

“He gets all mad that I’m out and about and look at that. Hypocrite.” Cursing, Mena grabbed for another handful of chips. She shoved them in her mouth and continued to glare at the stage.

This really wasn’t a side of Mena I had ever seen before. “He’s having fun and helping me out.”

“Helping you?” Just like that, all her anger melted away and concern replaced it. “Are you okay?” She looked around. “Is the killer here? Is that why you’re here?” As she was talking, she grabbed a fork from the table. As her fingers closed around it, I reached forward.

“Okay. Whoa.” Taking it out of her hand, I shook my head. “No need for this.” After setting it far away, I added, “I don’t know, but I doubt whoever he is that he’ll do anything. I mean, look around. Plus, I’m not really recognizable.”

She seemed to relax, her shoulders drooping slightly. “Still. Stay with me if you’re not around the guys. You shouldn’t be alone.”

I was taken aback again. Mena sounded like she cared, like she was even protective of me. I whistled under my breath. “Let the guys see this side of you, and they’ll relax a little. If you’re Team Sheldon, that’s all they care about.”

“I was Team Sheldon before, remember? Bryce hated me.”

“Yeah. Well.” I shrugged. “Killing Marcus simmered him down. Going through that, it’s simmered us all down.”

My chest felt tight.

Bryce had said that before, that killing Marcus and going through that whole ordeal hadn’t been dealt with. He said I was running from it, and maybe I was. I didn’t know. I just knew the thought of remembering that day, as I pulled the trigger, was making my chest feel even tighter. Maybe he was right. Maybe I ran from him because I didn’t want a reminder of that time.

Maybe.

I ground my teeth together. Maybe not. I didn’t want to analyze it.

“You okay?”

I grew aware of Mena’s question. Her concern was still there, but it had multiplied. She was watching me intently.

I forced my head to move up and down. Nod. Smile. Make a smart-ass comment and move forward. Forget this slight panic attack had ever happened. Okay, go, Sheldon. I forced another nod, then flashed a grin. I remarked, “So, how does it feel not being the social leper now?” I cringed. The smart-ass comment had been a complete bitch-slap instead. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.”

She waved me off. “Don’t worry about it. I know what you meant.”

Cripes. It worked. The small panic attack was forgotten, but man. I said again, “I really am sorry. I’m trying to work on what comes out of here sometimes.” Gesturing to my mouth, I added, “And I’m glad I said that comment to you and not the guys. The jokes they would’ve gotten from that one . . .” I shuddered. “No, thank you. Okay. Back to you. Not being the social leper you used to be. How’s the going for you?”