“Should we?”
Michelle’s big brown eyes widened behind her mask. “Oh, but I just got my drink.”
I rolled my eyes, took it out of her hand, and took a long sip. “There. Problem solved. Now go.”
Nathan wrapped his hand around her waist and led her back to the stairs we’d just climbed. Without him there, I didn’t have a real connection to the group, and even if I had hopes for recognizing someone, with the masks on, it was nearly impossible. I found a seat at the end of the long table just as everyone held up small shot glasses. The girl closest to me slid Nathan’s over and nodded.
“Are you a friend of Nathan’s?” she asked, eyeing my dress.
I shrugged. “Sort of. I’m here for the games.”
She smiled. “Same here.”
Maybe I’d have recognized her, but she was wearing an emerald green mask that covered most of her face, save for a pair of red lips.
“Okay!” a guy down the table shouted, drawing our attention back to the task at hand: shots. He held his glass in the air, sloshing a bit of Fireball Whisky over the side. “Here’s to winning gold, and drinking it too!”
“Cheers!” everyone called back as they tipped back their shots. I sniffed the glass and wrinkled my nose. My limit for the night had been one drink, and I already had two in front of me. If I started in on shots, there was no way I’d be a functioning human in the morning.
The shot was a good icebreaker though, especially since they didn’t notice me slide mine down the table untouched. Mask Girl and I got to talking and she introduced me to a few other people in the group. Names were too hard to hear over the music, and even the ones I did hear didn’t stick to memory. With the masks on, it wasn’t like it mattered anyway; we could have been anyone.
The table prepared for another shot and I glanced around for Michelle. I’d assumed she and Nathan would dance to a few songs and then head back up, but they’d been gone long enough that I wondered if they were even still inside the club. I pulled my phone out of my purse, secretly hoping for a text from Freddie. Nothing.
How hard was it to reply to a text?
The table clinked their shot glasses together and I stared at my phone, willing the text bubble to pop up.
“CHEERS!” they shouted as I started typing out another reply. I was breaking the rules by texting him again, but I was too lonely and bored to care.
Andie: I wish you were here.
I had barely slipped my phone back into my purse when it buzzed again. I pulled it out with a shaky hand.
Freddie: Be careful what you wish for.
I read the message twice before I realized my heart was racing with the shock of his reply. Did that mean he was in the club? He’d come after all? I twisted my head around, looking for him, but he wasn’t on the second floor, as least not from what I could see.
I hit send on a message that told him where I was, but it wouldn’t go through. I’d been able to send a text just a minute earlier, but now the cell reception decided to turn spotty. Perfect. I tried again and then glanced around our table. He wasn’t on the second floor. I shoved my phone into my clutch and stood from the table.
“I’ll be back,” I promised the group, though no one seemed to notice my departure.
My first idea was to go down to the mask shop, but he wasn’t in the crowded room. I stood by the door, watching people filter in and out and trying to spot his tall frame. I tried to text him again from that spot, but my phone still wouldn’t cooperate.
I walked back into the club and stood just to the side of the dance floor, spinning in a circle. I glanced up to the second and third floor balconies. There were plenty of people hanging over the railing, shouting, dancing, and drinking, but none of them were Freddie. I drew my gaze higher, up to the ceiling of the club. I hadn’t realized it before, but it was made of glass. Thousands of pieces of shattered glass fragments pieced together like a puzzle. My broken reflection stared back at me. I looked like a lost red devil in the center of the room. While everyone else moved and danced and drank, I stood frozen, trying to find someone I had no business looking for. It was in those fragmented pieces of glass that I first found him reflected back to me, dressed in black, masked, and walking up behind me.
There’s a sensation that comes with shock. That fast flood of endorphins that riles your senses. Your stomach twists and your hands shake and your heart beats so fast that even you aren’t sure who is controlling it: you or him. That’s how it felt when Freddie stepped up behind me in the club. His hand pressed against my lower back, skimming against my bare skin.
I closed my eyes, listened as he whispered hello in my ear, and fell into the kind of madness I’d avoided for so many years. For so long, I’d lived in the confines of my regimented life, but now I was in Rio, and Freddie still had his hand on the small of my back.