“Hey, I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted. Gonna grab a beer.” Tessa wanders away, inserting herself into a group of unfamiliar people.
I stare at her slender back, left bare by her black halter top and low-slung jeans. She used to wear ripped jeans and dye her hair black back in school, but I guess her oppressive family finally got to her, forcing a more conservative style on her. She hasn’t told me much about them lately.
No matter, though. Whatever she wears, Tess is beautiful. Right now she rocks the classy, laid back style and attitude, and I wish I was like her.
Dylan on the other hand rocks the somber punk style, with his black skull-themed T-shirt, tight pants and combat boots.
Jesus, talk about a make-over. He was always so clean and proper, a good boy from a good family, the stellar student and athlete.
“Decided on a major?” he asks, his eyes fixed on Tessa.
“Not yet.” I have no clue yet what I want—from my studies, from my life—and sometimes it feels like I’m standing on the edge of a precipice.
Seeing Dylan brings back so many memories. Tess is right. Ages ago, back when we went to high school together here in Madison, I had a fangirl crush on him. Then again, who hadn’t?
It’s easy to fall for Dylan with his killer body and that handsome, square-jawed face, the bright blue eyes and big smile. He was a quarterback and it shows. Half the female population of the school had pined for him and the other half had tried to get him.
Unsuccessfully. Dylan hasn’t been involved with anyone since he was fourteen, and I should know. Tessa wept on my shoulder when he broke up with her. I don’t really know why he changed, but hopefully after all these years he’s found happiness.
Well, I’m not sure if the new style is a sign he’s happy, or that he’s still searching, come to think of it. Maybe I’ll get a chance to talk to him one of these days.
“Earth to Audrey.” Dylan waves his drink in front of my face. “Let’s get you a drink. What’s your poison?”
“Oh um.” My cheeks warm. “Just beer.”
“Knot Stock okay?”
I nod. I love the local brew with its faint peppery taste.
He grabs a bottle from the cooler, opens it and passes it to me. “Have you seen anyone else you know? I bet you’ll see lots of familiar faces from school.”
I turn the cool bottle in my hands. Any moment now I’ll start peeling the yellow label, and I force my hands to still. “No, actually, I haven’t. I just arrived.”
“The guys are here. In fact,” he glances around and hollers, “Zane! Rafe! Over here.”
Oh god. Automatically, I put a hand over the scar on my cheek and turn away. Heat licks up my neck.
“Are you okay?” Dylan mutters.
I nod. I know the scar isn’t very visible anymore—all that remains is a fine white line—but I’m suddenly transported back to the days when it was red and horrible and I hid it from everyone.
Someone claps me on the back and I’m forced to turn around and face them all. Rafe, his dirty blond hair long to his shoulders, his tawny eyes merry. Silver hoops glint on his ears and his arms bulge with muscles.
And Zane, with his dark, almond-shaped eyes and a faint smirk. He wears his dark hair in a tall, green Mohawk, the sides shaved, and has three silver rings through one eyebrow. Tats swirl down his arms all the way to his wrists, full of colors. He looks like a wicked Yakuza boy.
I must be staring at the rings in his eyebrow, because he chuckles and sticks out his tongue where a barbell glints. “Like my metal?”
Whoa.
“Of course she does,” Dylan says and winks. “She likes bad boys.”
That’s the truth. What can I say? Yeah, I prefer bad boys, ever since...
“Hey Ash!” someone calls from behind me. “Have you seen my car keys?”
I spin around, searching the sea of faces, my heart pounding and sweat springing on my face. Excitement and dread mingle in an indefinable, dizzying cocktail.
Is he here? He might be—after all, as Dylan said, this is my high school class and Ash was in it, but I didn’t think of it and now...
“Do you like my place?” Zane says, gesturing around.
I struggle to gather my thoughts. I tug my sweater lower over my black leggings and shift on my high-heeled boots. “This your apartment? Looks great.”
He grins. “Like me.”
“Knock it off,” Dylan growls.
That’s kinda funny. I shoot Dylan a half-annoyed look. What, is he my big brother now? I realize I’m not used to having anyone filling that role anymore. Not that I ever had a brother, but I had Ash, and then I had Dylan.
And then I was alone and hiding from the world.
“Well, the apartment is mine and Erin’s. She’s out of town today.” Zane sips his drink, eyeing me over the rim of his glass. “Erin Wilson.”
I vaguely recall the girl from school. She’s a couple years older than me. “Girlfriend?”
“Just a friend.” He tips his head to the side. “Are you staying at your old house?”
“We sold the house after the accident.” Mom said she couldn’t stand living there without Dad. Truth is, I’m not sure I could, either. “I’m renting an apartment.” Well, technically, Mom is. “Not far from here, in fact. Real close to Tessa’s.”
“How have you been, Audrey?” Rafe says, leaning closer. He’s always been cat-like, but now he’s like a lion, golden and tall, his shoulders broad, stretching his grey T-shirt. Dark ink lines travel from his shoulder down his arm. Zane’s work. He’s inked his closest friends. “It’s been so long. What is it, three years?”
I bite my lip, trying to calm down. “Two and a half. I left mid-year.”
“To Chicago, right? The big city. Did you like it?” He grins and his cheeks dimple.
Christ, when did all the boys I knew turn into heartthrobs?
“It was okay.” Brilliant conversational skills, Audrey, well done. I clear my throat. “It was tough at first. I didn’t know anyone there and Mom worked all the time.” Now I sound whiny. Jesus. “She had to, of course. And after a while it was fine.”
Okay, that’s a big fat lie. It was never fine, and I ran away as soon as I could, which is now. Mom turned into a workaholic and I’ve been lonely and kinda lost.
“You vanished,” Rafe says. “I looked for you online, but I only found your old Twitter and LiveJournal accounts. Are you hiding under a fake name or something?” He winks.
I shrug. “No.”
“Well, you look good,” Zane says, swirling the ice-cubes in his whiskey. His dark eyes narrow to slits. “With the accident, I thought you’d be... different.”
Silence greets his words, and a flash of panic goes through me. “Like what?”
“Z-man, shut your mouth,” Dylan says. His fists clench and he seems about to pound Zane into the wall.
Zane lifts his hands. “Hey, fucker, cool your engines. I only meant... Hell, I don’t know what I meant. You said she was scarred, Dylan. I don’t see any scars, that’s all. That’s a good thing, man.”
My breath catches.