A wave of hot energy burst from the base of my scalp and seeped down my back. “I’ve never . . . never heard of them,” I stammered, trying not to think of Gavin . . . and failing.
“They’re from a Latin fairy tale called . . .”
“The Golden Ass,” I finished.
He ran his hand across his forehead, up into his auburn hair. “I’m impressed. I thought you’d never heard of them.”
“I haven’t.” I blushed. “I have no idea where that came from. It just popped into my head.” I looked down, embarrassed to have interrupted him with my random trivia brain.
He continued, “The labyrinth symbolizes their journey. Psyche must visit the Underworld to earn Cupid’s love.”
Is that all it takes? I thought sourly. I considered the choices, and decided visiting hell to get Gavin back was much preferable to being loved and left behind. I was bouncing between self-pity and bitterness when Jo reappeared, worry creasing her face.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I got a text that my grandmother had a stroke,” she said. “I have to go.”
My throat caught at the word grandmother. It took me a second to register that Jo meant hers, not mine. I realized I must care about my grandparents more than I thought, since I couldn’t bear the idea of something happening to either of them.
“How awful,” Graham said. “We can have a car take you directly to the hospital.”
“I don’t want to be a bother,” Jo said.
“Of course not. Come, I’ll arrange everything.”
“I’m coming,” I said.
“No, stay and enjoy the party,” Jo replied.
“But . . .” I faltered, “I only came for you.” I widened my eyes at her to signal I couldn’t say more in front of Graham without insulting his family, but I wanted to scream, Don’t leave me here with the rich freaks! Unfortunately, Jo missed my silent message entirely.
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “You’ll have a great time. And you don’t want to sit in a tiny visitor’s room for the next five hours, trust me.”
“But . . .” I was stuck. How could I argue that I would like anything better than to stay at the party when one of the hosts was right in front of me?
“You should definitely stay,” Graham confirmed. He turned to Jo. “I promise I’ll take good care of her.”
They left, and I was standing alone. I gazed back over the garden. The moon slid out from behind a patch of clouds and bathed the statues of Cupid and Psyche in an eerie light. I heard a strange, high-pitched scream in the distance. Even though it wasn’t cold at all, I shivered. As beautiful as it was, something about Campbell Hall wasn’t right.
While I was content to stand at the balcony’s edge until the party was over, Anders found me and had other plans.
“It’s our very own American princess!” he said, sucking on a cigarette and blowing smoke above his head.
“I prefer ‘queen,’” I replied. “And you know smoking kills.” Even though he acted like a pig, there was no denying Anders was attractive. Aggravatingly so.
“Eventually, everything does,” he said with a smirk, taking another drag.
“Well, it’s disgusting, anyway,” I retorted.
“You’ve never had a ciggy, then, have you?”
“No. I told you, it’s gross.”
“I’ve been smoking since I was eleven,” he said. “I should probably stop, but I’ve never found a good enough reason.”
“Not even for a girl?”
“Psssh.” He shrugged. “Never happen. Most of the Scottish girls I’ve kissed don’t seem to mind.”
“Ugh, I would never kiss someone who smoked.” I turned back to the garden as if I couldn’t be bothered to continue our conversation, but inside, I was reeling. Talking about kissing with a gorgeous guy, even if he was smoking, was titillating.
“Wouldn’t you?” he asked. “If I gave them up right now, just for you, would you kiss me?”
“Your mouth is already completely ruined for the night,” I said. We were definitely flirting now, and I was sincerely enjoying the rush of power it gave me.
“What about tomorrow?” he asked.
“I’m busy,” I said.
“So you wouldn’t kiss me, even after I gave up smoking for you and everything? I’m crushed.” He took a few exaggerated steps backward, clutching his heart.
“’Fraid not.”
“How about a dance, then?” he asked, putting his cigarette out by squishing it on the stone railing just an inch from my hand. “Look, my last one. You’ve convinced me. I’m through forever. The least you could do is dance with me.”
Like all the guys in Scotland, his accent made him a million times more gorgeous. He bent his head and gave me an impish smile, making him really hard to refuse. What could possibly be the harm of a little dancing?
CHAPTER 17
Anders was actually fun to dance with, and I was relieved he gave me space instead of trying to grind up against me. The DJ played a couple of my favorite songs, and despite my best efforts, I was having a good time.
The room was stifling, though, and Anders was kind enough to get me a drink. I went with him, to make sure I was only getting soda. I lied and told him I was trying to pace myself.
“Smart girl,” he said, clicking his finger and thumb like a gun at me. I was sure he had no problem holding his liquor, but he didn’t order anything for himself.
Before I’d had two sips, Elsie stomped over and dragged Anders away.
Thankfully, Stuart appeared out of the crowd and asked me to dance. I didn’t want to be stuck alone again, and another great song came on, so I agreed.
Three, or maybe four, songs later, I started to get dizzy.
“Are you okay?” Stuart asked.
“I’m just overheated,” I said. “I think I’m going to find the ladies’ room.”
“Do you need me to walk you?”
The thought of being escorted to the bathroom was horrifying. “No, I’m fine. Just point me in the right direction.”
“Go back out the doors you came in, turn right, go down the hall until you see a staircase. Go down a flight of stairs, and you’ll find it on the left.”
“Got it,” I said. “Right, right, down, left.”
I bobbed through the crowd and emerged into the wood-paneled hallway. I walked down to the right, but found three sets of stairs—two going down and one going up. A girl with a shiny silver dress and disheveled hair emerged from the middle staircase.
“It’s down there,” she said.
“Thanks,” I answered.