I’m terrified to peek across the room again—afraid the girls from school will be cackling like hyenas. I desperately try to cling to the anger, but it slips through my fingertips.
I turn and there’s Addison. The elation that was on her face wanes as her eyes crazily take me in. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” My lungs burn and I want so badly to curl into a ball and cry, but I can’t. Not in public. Not with everyone gawking.
When she spots Kyle, she rolls her shoulders back. “What did he do?”
“Nothing,” I say, and I’m moving. Through the crowd. Past guys who ask me to dance. Past Reagan, who’s all smiles and tries to snatch my hand to join her and another friend. Past tables and chairs. I run past my name being called by multiple people.
I need air. I need to disappear. I need out of Snowflake and out of my home and out of this life and out of my skin and just out, and with a push of my hands on the door, I am out.
I suck in a breath when my heels click against the blacktop, but then the door bangs shut and my heart jumps. No, I went out a side door. Not the front door. I spin and my fingers graze the smooth steel where a handle should be. It’s a security door and I’m officially locked out.
“Crap!” I shout into the night, but no one is around to hear.
To the right is a Dumpster. To the left is another alley. Both are shadowed. I choose left and pray once I reach the corner there will be light. But as I go to walk, the world becomes disoriented. I throw my hand out to the wall when stumbling seems easier.
“Alone again?”
My head snaps back to the entrance and a surge of adrenaline shoots through my veins. Emerging out of the darkness is a large, looming figure. I stagger back. Away from the night of the alley, toward my hope for light, but there’s a crunch of glass under my feet. I trip, my ankle twists and a spasm blasts from my foot up to my leg.
My already bad balance is completely thrown. My arms flail, there’s a pain near my elbow as it connects with the brick and my body topples back.
I close my eyes, bracing for the impact of the ground, but as fast as I was falling, I hit something and then I’m ascending. My eyes fly open and I’m greeted by the most beautiful blue eyes. But then I shiver. Those eyes are as frozen as ice.
“You have the worst luck,” he says.
It’s Razor and he’s cradling me in his arms. As my skin vibrates, there’s a part of me that agrees with his assessment. But a small dissenting voice wonders if, in this moment, I’m lucky.
RAZOR
TEAR TRACKS MARK Breanna’s face and mascara smudges near her eyes. The sight of her unhappy tugs at my soul. She’s light in my arms and her hands clasp around my neck. She grabbed for me as I caught her. By the shock on her face, she has no idea how her fingers have started to play with the ends of my hair near the base of my neck.
It’s a tickling sensation and it’s causing me to want to hold Breanna much closer than she already is. “Are you okay?”
Breanna nods, but the answer is no. She’s crying, she ran out of the club and she’s in an alley alone with me. No part of that equation adds up to okay, but girls never make sense.
“I tripped,” she admits. “You scared me and I tripped.”
“Sorry,” I say, and I mean it. “Let me get you over the glass.”
She glances around, then trembles. Someone lost their mind in the alley and smashed entire cases of bottled beer along the walls and concrete.
“Wow.” She cuddles into me.
“Yeah.” The broken glass isn’t by happenstance. It’s the reason I tried to warn Breanna from coming here. New school year also means a new class of Army recruits. Drunk Army boys on a high after kicking another guy’s ass doesn’t spell a good night for a high school girl.
The glass crunches under my boots and her arms wind tighter around my neck as I guess she’s noticing the blood trails along the wall and ground.
“What happened out here?” she asks.
“Army hazing.”
“Please tell me you’re kidding.”
My silence is the answer. As we near the street, there’s a lump on the ground and the whimpers confirm it’s not a wounded animal. Thanks to the beams of light flooding from the parking lot, I spot the red of blood over skin.
“Don’t look,” I tell her, but by the way she sucks in her breath, she’s already seen.
“We have to help him.”
Footsteps at the opening of the alley and one of the Army boys Breanna danced with slides into view. This guy ain’t bleeding, so that suggests he was one of the group doing the cutting.
“I know him,” she confides.
“Don’t look him in the eye.” If he had given his name to her and believes she can identify him, he might have a problem letting us go.
G.I. Joe eyes me. His job is to keep the guy on the ground from standing. My job is to get Breanna the fuck out of here.
“Razor,” she pleads as we reach the lump on the ground and the guy on duty.
“I mean it. Don’t look.”