Midnight Muse

Speaking of, the number of glares I’m receiving because Slate’s hand is wrapped around my arm is astonishing. I’ve never seen so many sharp looks, glares, and envious stares as I am right now. It makes my skin itch, yet I smirk at all of them in return, following Slate to the keg where a boy with tawny skin and a curly head of dark hair is tipped upside down, the crowd around him cheering as they count the time he’s been chugging from the nozzle.

“Let’s go, Lynx!” Slate chants, immediately distracted by the events happening in the small kitchen. I must say, I’m impressed as well, but after about three seconds, my gaze wanders, looking for a certain boy with onyx hair and piercing jade eyes. I already know that he’s not here, but I can’t help searching the crowd anyway.

Something in the corner of my eye catches my attention. I blink at the sight of a boy passing out a round of shots, and when I squint to make sure what I’m seeing is correct?—

“Slate, those drinks are on fire!”

My friends head turns sharply, releasing a curse.

“Yo, asshole,” Slate shouts, thrusting himself through the crowd, sights set on the boy with the flaming tray of shots. My stomach curls and I’m not sure why, but Slate’s reaction to the havoc tells me more than I need to know. He’s not normally such a stickler, so if something has him reacting like this, carefully disarming the boy from the tray and grabbing his collar, alerting Ace to the drinks as he hauls him from the apartment, it must be serious.

I watch Ace disentangle himself from Rory, quickly making his way to where the flaming liquor has been left unattended on the counter. He walks so smoothly it’s almost like he’s gliding, each step filled with purpose.

He takes the tray and quickly disposes of the fire. There are a few moans and groans about the wasted alcohol, but the razor-sharp look in his sparkling eyes shuts every last one of the party-goers up.

“Sorry about that,” Slate apologizes when he returns. He offers me a cup of beer now that the boy is no longer deep-throating the nozzle, and I realize that I have no idea how long he stayed up there while I was distracted by the two roommates fussing over the flames.

“No, thanks,” I wave the cup away.

Slate grins and I don’t like that one bit. “Ah, right. You wanted something a little fruitier.”

“How about a little stronger,” I counter, and the gleam in his cocoa eyes paints a target on my back. All of the girls in the kitchen openly glower at me.

“That’s what I like to hear,” a female voice says, startling me. I turn to find one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen.

She’s blonde, with perfect waves falling long down the length of her back. Her brown eyes are like molten chocolate, warm but gleaming with mischief. She’s clad in what I think is the tightest dress known to man, red and latex and hugging every perfect curve. It’s hot in the apartment but she’s not sweating at all; in fact, her skin looks dewy and healthy.

Her cherry red lips curl upwards as I all but gape at her.

“Mandy,” Slate shouts, tugging her into his side. He plants a firm kiss to her forehead that has all of the female attention that was on me, sliding to her. With a quick glance around the kitchen, I see that the girls look envious, not only because of Slate’s arm around her, but because of Mandy’s perfect looks as well. I totally get it. “I didn’t know you were in town this weekend! What gives?”

She purses her lips as if trying not to smile, shrugging like she doesn’t have a care in the world. “Wanted to surprise my cousin and meet the girl he’s been gushing over.”

Slate bellows so loudly it rumbles the floor with its bass. He releases Mandy and hands me a drink, introducing me to the mysterious but gorgeous girl. “Quinn, this is Mandy. She’s Ace’s cousin. Mandy, Quinn. She and Rory live next door.”

“Neighbors?” She questions, bringing her own cup to her lips. Her gaze is curious as she assesses me and the look has me bringing my own drink to my mouth for something to do. I don’t break her stare, though, interested in what she has to say. “Knox didn’t tell me that.”

I don’t understand it, the way my heart stutters at his name. Or perhaps it’s the alcohol I’m currently choking on, because whatever Slate poured into my cup is just that—all alcohol and no chaser. Yeah, that’s surely the reason my heart is doubling in pace, from the shock of straight tequila to my system.

That knowing look on Mandy’s face has me boldly swallowing another sip of my drink. The cheap liquor tastes like gasoline going down, but for some reason, I feel like I need the liquid courage for whatever else is going to happen tonight.

“Where is he, by the way?” She continues, cocking her head. She doesn’t know that she just asked the very question I’ve been wondering, but too cowardly to ask myself. The longer she stares, the more forced her charming smile seems, carving a blood-red slash across her otherwise glowing skin. She’s looking at me like I’m a threat and I don’t know why.

“Dunno,” Slate responds, and it’s clear by his wandering eyes that he’s more than done with conversing with us. His brown eyes are already lingering on two girls grinding in the living room. “Said something about a date, I think.”

CHAPTER 18

KNOX

Idon’t know why I fucking lied.

I do and I shouldn’t have, because now I’m sitting across the table from the man I’m a carbon copy of, and I don’t like it one bit.

Travis Foster, my father, types something on his phone. His thick, gold ring catches the light above the table at Rhonda’s diner. His gray suit is pressed perfectly and his sunglasses are pushed up into the dark hair that he has been religiously dying since his first gray popped up.

I haven’t seen him since the accident. Since he took his fist to my face when my dickhead of a step-brother ratted me out. Travis thought I was a business major here, because that’s what I told him I was, knowing that he wouldn’t approve of me wanting to be in art.

I didn’t think I’d almost lose my life over it.