Her cheeks are flushed, and the spinning lights make her eyes sparkle. “Oh! No. Well. Maybe. It’s—we’re having fun. He’s really silly.”
I turn her around and give her a firm push. “Go. Dance with him. You’re actually kind of adorable together.”
She goes, looking worriedly back at me over her shoulder.
Go! I mouth, making a shooing motion with my hands. I watch as Brandon looks concerned and then listens to whatever Rowan tells him, and his expression changes to indicate some kind of acceptance.
I step off the dance floor and move into the shadows by the bleachers. There’s a gap in the risers here, backed by the emergency-exit doors. It’s one of the few corners of the gym where the lights don’t reach. I feel like I’m hiding in a cave, peeking out at the real world.
“I don’t want to scare you . . . ,” says a voice behind me.
I suck in a breath and whirl.
Someone moves from the shadows. The size and lack of sparkle tells me it’s a guy, but I can barely see anything in this corner. He gives a soft laugh. “Well, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He pauses and then moves close enough for some light to find his features. It’s Rev, Declan’s friend. “I just didn’t want you to think you were the only one standing in the dark.”
“It’s okay.” I swallow, alerting my adrenaline to dial it back a notch. Again, I think of that moment on the quad when he and Declan looked like opposing angels. “Why are you hiding?”
“I’m not hiding.” He glances at the crowd, then back at me. “I needed a moment to step away from the noise and the light.”
“Me too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I feel a draft and shiver.
Rev frowns. “Cold?”
“A little.” I pause. “It’s a weird night.”
His lips quirk up. “Tell me about it.”
He’s got such a quiet, patient manner, and I think about Rowan’s comment earlier, wondering why he always dresses like the Unabomber. He said he wasn’t hiding here in the darkness, but maybe he hides every day, just in another way. His hair is way too long, and it falls across half his face, but it shines. Unlike Declan, he hasn’t shaved, leaving his chin shadowed. His shirt is buttoned all the way up, his tie neatly knotted. He looks like a rock star who was told he needed to go on a job interview.
Rev wasn’t being literal, but I tell him about my night anyway. “I told my best friend to dance with my date. I think I specifically told her they’d make a cute couple.”
There’s no malice in my voice, and his smile widens. “How did your date take that?”
“Pretty well, I think. I mean, he’s still dancing with her.” I pause. “You’re not here with anyone?”
He hesitates. “I don’t really date.” He glances into the dark shadows behind him. “I’m playing wingman.”
“For who? The darkness?”
Now he grins. “No. For Dec. He’s outside, grabbing a cigarette.”
I glance behind him again. No wonder there’s a draft over here. The emergency-exit door is partially propped open. A sliver of dim light peeks around the door frame.
I look back at Rev. “He snuck out?”
“You think the faculty is going to let him smoke on the quad?”
I’m appalled at this flagrant defiance of the rules.
I’m also jealous.
I walk past Rev to the door and push through. Declan is standing beyond the emergency light, and he jumps a mile. He’s stomping out the cigarette before he realizes it’s just me.
His eyes ice over again. “Stalker much?”
He’s throwing my own words back in my face. I tell my cheeks not to flush. They don’t listen. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that smoking will kill you?”
“You’re kidding. They should write that on the package.” He shakes out another one and puts it between his lips.
“How did you even get out here? Doesn’t the door set off an alarm?”
“Nah. Ricky Allaverde disconnected this one three years ago and no one’s ever bothered to fix it.” He takes a drag on the cigarette and blows a plume of smoke into the sky. “If you think you’re going to say something about it, I’ll know it was you.”
The words aren’t threatening in themselves, but the chill in his voice sends a shiver down my spine again. I have to fold my arms across my stomach. “I won’t say anything. I’m not like that.”
He laughs, but there’s no humor to it. “Sure you are.”
My face is still burning. I’m not entirely sure what drew me out the door. After the thumping beat inside the gym, the quiet behind the school wraps around us, making this interaction far more intimate than it needs to be.
“What are you doing out here?” he asks.
“I needed to get away from the noise.”
He inhales, making the cigarette glow red. “Where’s your friend?”
“Dancing.”
“With that douchebag with the camera?”
My temper flares. “Brandon’s not a douchebag.”
Declan laughs. “Yeah, okay.”
“You’re one to talk.”
He blows smoke through his teeth, and the intensity of his gaze traps me there. He’s closer suddenly, his voice low and rough. “You don’t know anything about me.”
My mouth is dry, but his closeness sparks something in me, and I speak without thinking. “I know you’re a loser with a record.”
Any humor in his expression evaporates. I instantly regret the words. He drops the cigarette to the ground and stomps this one out, too. Without a glance at me, he heads for the door.
How can he make me feel so guilty without saying anything? How does he do this?
He’s through the door so quickly that I realize he’s about to let it slam in my face. I hustle to catch it, and then I’m thrust back into the spinning lights and pumping music, just barely broken by our square of darkness. The song switches to a heavy metal ballad from the eighties, and each strum of the guitars grates against my senses. Declan and Rev are heading into the light.
“Stop,” I call.
He doesn’t.
“Wait,” I say, breathless and uncertain. “Let me—”
“What?” He turns, and his expression is fierce.