Hormones, maybe. Definitely not recognition.
“Please tell me you didn’t date that guy,” he says.
“Who?” I ask, forgetting what we were talking about.
Luca nods his head toward the group. “Soccer star.”
“Oh.” I shrug. “I did. A long time ago.”
The smile fades from his eyes, but not his lips. “How long is a long time?”
“You don’t want to hear this,” I groan.
“Sure I do.” He turns to survey Steve. “A man needs to understand his competition. That’s why he’s watching me so closely. He knows I’m competition.”
“There is no contest,” I scoff.
“That comment can be taken two different ways.” Luca slowly turns his body toward mine. “Some may argue that you’re not interested in either competitor, so there’s no contest to be had.”
I mirror him so that we are standing toe-to-toe, and fight to hold back the smile threatening to rip me wide open. “What’s the flip side of that argument?”
“That I’m the clear winner,” he tells me confidently. Thrusting his chin in Steve’s general direction, he adds, “That guy shouldn’t even bother to show up.”
A smile cracks through despite my best efforts to contain it. “You’re good.”
He shrugs lazily. It’s smooth, confident, and hot. It’s also familiar, but not in a good way.
With sudden clarity, I realize why I thought I recognized him. I’ve seen guys like him before. Lots of them. Lots of times. They all look the same to me now. After bearing witness to Vienna’s many mistakes, I swore that I would never fall victim to the spells they weave.
The stranger danger siren wails louder. More urgent.
I retreat a step, and add, “You know you’re good.”
Luca glances down at the distance growing between us, and his jaw glides from side to side. “Going somewhere?”
“Where I should have been all along,” I tell him. Then I turn my back on possibly the hottest guy I have ever laid eyes on, and I walk away.
“Want some company?” he calls out to me.
I stop and turn with narrowed eyes.
He closes some of the distance between us. “Surely there’s a café or . . . something around here. Somewhere we can go and—”
“Talk?” I smirk. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that line? Is there a special class guys like you take to learn how to trick girls like me into believing you are genuine? I must admit, though, I almost believed you.”
He squints at me. “I’m not genuine?”
I cross my arms over my chest. It’s a defensive move. Plus, they always like to ogle the goods when they can, and no one is getting a look at mine. What little this baggy sweatshirt permits.
“Let me make sure I got this right.” Luca steps closer with a frown. “Because I talk to a girl who caught my attention, flirt a little, and make her laugh, I automatically get labeled as an asshole?”
I shrug. “Most guys are.”
“Wow.” His eyes widen. “That is . . . a little sexist, to be honest.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t lump me in the same class as every loser that has ever burned you.” He takes another big step. “That’s not fair. You don’t even know me.”
“That’s the point. Why would I go off alone with someone I don’t know? Why would you expect me to?”
“I don’t expect anything,” he corrects me. “I asked you a question. You don’t know me, and that’s precisely the issue I’m trying to amend.” He flashes a grin. “Have a coffee with me.”
“Is that a request or a demand?”
He shakes his head, and murmurs, “Always been a feisty one.”
My arms fall to my sides. “What did you say?”
“You’re feisty,” he repeats louder with a grin. “I like that.”
“I call it smart,” I fire back. “And if you are smart, you’ll throw that charm you’ve obviously worked hard at perfecting at someone it will work on.”
His eyes widen. “What—”
“It’s not going to work on me,” I add decisively. “You’ve got the wrong girl.”
I turn and walk away. Again. It may be the dumbest thing, on a long list of dumb things, I’ve done this evening, but I prefer to think it’s the smartest. Guys like him destroy girls like me, and I don’t need that in my life. Not now. Not ever.
No guy is going to drag me down, no matter how gorgeous he is. Besides, the dumb girl in the movies always goes for the charming guy.
I am not that girl.
I am the survivor.
Chapter 2
I scan the crowd for Vienna as I walk toward my car where it is parked in the shadowy space between the bonfire and wide-open wilderness. When I don’t see her, I pull out my phone to text her. I’ve made up my mind. I am going home, but I won’t abandon her without a ride off the mountain. I hit SEND as I weave around the trees and trucks with big wheels in search of my trusty little sedan.
That is my first mistake.
Distraction can get someone killed up here. Myself included.
A twig snaps somewhere close, and my head whips up at the sound. One hand automatically reaches for the bear spray tucked away in my bag. With the other hand, I activate the flashlight on my phone and shine it toward the trees. Nothing lurks there—human or beast—but a spattering of goosebumps crawl across my skin. Finger on the nozzle, I turn in a slow circle to confirm that no one has followed me. At least, not that I can see.
I spot the rear bumper of my car on the other side of a big green truck accessorized with rust. I must have passed it when my head was buried in the phone. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I roll my eyes at my own carelessness and start around the tetanus-infested biohazard with fast and urgent steps.
A scream cuts the cold night air, stopping me. My feet are anchored to the ground when another scream joins the first one. Then another. Shouts and shrieks and other sounds of chaos erupt from the direction of the bonfire.
The yellow-orange glow of the blaze filters through the trees, enabling me to see the silhouettes of my classmates scrambling and running across the clearing. More screams. More cries of terror. Someone yells, “Wolves!”
Vienna. I take two automatic steps toward the clearing before I realize I am no good to her, or anyone, without a weapon. Depending on the number of wolves, I would be no good even with a weapon.
I have nothing. Not on me, nor in my car.
My car. I fish the keys out of my pocket and hurry toward it.
As I round the green truck, a pair of eyes materializes out of the darkness in front of me. The black wolf they belong to stands between me and my car door. A growl vibrates low in its chest as it takes a menacing step toward me.
I am sure to maintain eye contact as I retreat slowly.
Do not run. Do not show fear.
I know all the tips for surviving the wild. It doesn’t make them any easier to follow when face-to-face with one of mother nature’s most efficient killing machines.
My body stiffens as the icy hand of fear grips me. While my legs flinch from the instinct to run, I force my feet to inch backward slowly. Carefully. One step after another.