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Secrets We Hunt (One Night #2)(2)

Author:Dana Isaly

“Even this was a stretch for me,” he says, straightening his shirt. “Between this weekend on the yacht and backpacking our way through Europe for the next month, I told her we are surviving off of ramen for a year.”

“I think we all know that isn’t true,” Greg scoffs. “You could travel around Europe in this damn yacht for a month and still be living just as high as you are now.”

Jack flips him off and turns back to me.

“I gotta ask. What’s up with the pants?” he asks.

“Honestly, I was wondering the same thing,” Pyro says, laughing. “They look more like something I would wear.”

“It’s fashion,” I tell them, doing a spin in my outfit and striking a stupid pose. I have fitted black-and-white striped pants on and a white short-sleeved button-up that shows off all my tattoos. “I’m here to woo one of Q’s bridesmaids, remember? I have to look the part.”

“That part for what?” Owen asks. “The lead in Beetlejuice?”

“How about we all just shut up and go get this asshole married?” I ask, clapping my hands on Jack’s shoulders. He looks at me in the mirror and nods with a smile.

We make our way up to the very top deck, where there’s the best view of the sunset on one side and Santorini on the other. The ceremony is small, just their closest friends and family on either side of the aisle. And as we all stand at the front, waiting for Quin and her bridesmaids, my eyes catch on wild brown hair at the back. I do a double take and try to crane my neck around all the people.

“What’re you doing?” Jack whispers as the music begins to play and the bridesmaids start down the aisle.

“Nothing,” I tell him, ignoring the pull in my stomach telling me I know those curls. Flashbacks of Zo? flood my mind, the way her hair smelled and the way she laughed when she thought something I said was really funny. She would throw her head back, and the loudest cackle would burst from her throat. It was obnoxious and embarrassing and so fucking Zo? it hurt.

But there’s no way she could be at my best friend’s wedding on his yacht in Greece. To my knowledge, they don’t even know each other.

Could she know Quin?

After the ceremony, everyone makes their way down to the deck below, where the food and drinks are being served, along with a makeshift dance floor. My eyes keep glancing around, trying to find the girl from earlier, with no luck. I probably look like a crazy person, not paying attention to anything going on around me other than trying to find out whether or not Zo? is here.

“Who the fuck are you looking for?” Greg asks me, handing me a beer. I take it from him and try to pull my focus away from the people on the dance floor. There is probably a max of fifty people, but I still can’t seem to pick that hair out of the crowd. “You look like a stalker over here in the corner watching people.”

“I thought I saw someone,” I tell him. “Do you know if a girl named Zo? is here?”

“How do you know Zo??” Jack asks, popping into our conversation. I feel my stomach somersault like a teenager. I knew it had been her.

“So, she is here?” I ask him, feeling my entire body light on fire with electricity.

“How do you know Zo??” he asks me again, looking at me like I’m up to no good.

“We used to be friends when we were younger,” I tell him, scanning around the crowd again before zeroing in on her being pulled to the dance floor by Quin.

“She was Quin’s first friend out in California,” he says. “Quin answered Zo?’s ad for a roommate, and they’ve been inseparable ever since.”

“So why haven’t we seen her around?” I ask, never taking my eyes off her. God, that smile makes my heart triple in speed.

“She’s been off traveling for the past year or so. She’s a journalist that goes around writing blog posts for hotels and stuff like that. She’s been all over.” He pauses, and I feel his gaze swing over to me. “If you’re such good friends with her, why don’t you know all of this?”

“I told you,” I sigh, looking over at him and Greg. “We used to be best friends. She fell off the face of the Earth without a word when we were eighteen.”

“How’d you fuck that one up?” Greg asks with a laugh. “Literally fuck it?”

I give him a look and then move my gaze back to the dance floor to watch her. Without listening to whatever the guys were saying, I circle it, watching as her cheeks blush a deep pink and her silky blue dress spins around her legs as she twirls for Q.

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