“Where are your parents for all this?” I shouted over the music as Victoria swayed to the beat. It had been ten minutes, and she’d already finished the drink she’d made and started another.
“Vacation house,” she said. “They have a beachside place up near the Sound. They stay there for a week or so sometimes to rekindle the flame.” She rolled her eyes, but at least now I knew that I wouldn’t have to worry about running into her parents during my snooping. She looked at me, eyes half-lidded and hazy. “Where are your parents?”
“Spain,” I said, almost certain I’d told her this before. “They retired there. I could have gone with them, but uh, I dunno…had to seize my independence or something.” I laughed, but her expression remained blank.
“You probably should have gone with them,” she said, her blue eyes locking straight onto mine with a sharpness I didn’t expect from her drunken state.
But then her expression soured, and she said hurriedly, “Mm…I’ll be right back…” She scurried away, one hand covering her mouth, still determinedly clinging to her drink. Despite the alcohol, I felt way too cold. I chugged down the rest of my drink and headed back to the bar for another.
I couldn’t lose my nerve now.
As I mingled in the crowd, I began to think I’d only imagined Leon’s possessive phantom-touch. Maybe I’d only wished it was there; it was just my brain reacting to an uncomfortable interaction by imagining that the demon was close, watching me, protecting me.
I took a long sip of my drink and winced. I’d put way too much alcohol in it and not enough mixer, and was about to turn back to the bar to try to fix it when Jeremiah popped up beside me.
He had two cups in his hands.
“You don’t really look like you’re enjoying that,” he said, motioning to my poorly-made cocktail. He didn’t wait for my confirmation before he slipped the drink from my hands, and handed over one of his instead. “Try it.”
I sipped — of course it was better than mine. Refreshing, limey, sparkling. I nodded. “Yeah, that’s way better.”
“Just come to me if you want another,” he said, bowing as he headed back to the kitchen, likely to throw away the mess of alcohol I’d made. They were good hosts, even if they were secretly plotting to kill me.
I stayed at the edge of the crowd, swaying with my drink, watching couples grind up on each other to the pounding beat. Inaya had wandered off, and I was still trying to work up the courage to sneak away when I noticed a couple at the far side of the room eyeing me.
They were dressed in identical black suits and bowties, their faces painted to look like skulls. The woman’s long, wavy black hair was pulled into a ponytail, and the man’s hair was dark and slicked back. They were both tall, colorful tattoos peeking out from the wrists and necklines of their jackets. They were the type of couple that looked far too absurdly attractive — it was almost irritating to have that much sex-appeal taken up by two people.
They kept staring at me for so long it was beginning to make me blush. There was something vaguely familiar about the guy, as if I’d seen him around campus…maybe I had a class with him. It was the woman who made the first move, making her way slowly across the living room to stand beside me along the wall. Despite the suit, she was wearing steel-toed boots and towered over me.
When she smiled at me, I was suddenly certain that she could literally step on me and I’d say thank you.
“Hey.” Her voice was husky. “Having a good time?”
I nodded, flustered as fuck to have a beautiful girl talk to me without prompting. “Yeah, it’s pretty wild. Definitely the biggest party I’ve been to.”
“I’m Sam.” She held out her hand, the slightest stutter in her voice as she said her name. Her fingers were warm and rough, as if she worked with her hands a lot. “Would you…” She nodded back toward her partner, who winked at me as I glanced over. So familiar. Where the hell did I know him from? “…would you wanna dance?”
I was more likely to trip over my own feet than actually dance with them. But her hand was so warm on mine, and across the room her partner was flipping through the music on the TV and selected a song called Distance by Apashe.
I smiled and nodded, and she tugged me by the hand across the room, her dark brown eyes on my face as she brought me closer to her man. Then she was in front of me, arms around my neck, and he was behind me, hands on my waist, and our bodies swayed to the dark, swelling rhythm. It didn’t even matter that I couldn’t dance, because between the two of them I was moved however they wanted me, pressed close between them.