I whip around and my breath freezes in my throat.
The bay doors leading to the back are wide open, a light breeze carrying the curtains into the house, and just outside of it... Ransom.
His glare is heavy, angry, and tipped low.
Dirt lines his jaw, what looks like blood is dried to his right brow, and he’s wearing the same clothes from the day before.
His arm comes up, his hand opening, and inside his palm, dangling from one finger... my keys.
My eyes widen and I dart forward, but as I reach him, reaching for them, his fist closes.
He backs away and a lump forms in my throat. I’m about to vomit, or scream, but then he tosses them against my chest.
A clipped huff leaves me, and I jolt, prepared to run back, but as I get a better look at him, my bare feet root in place.
His face is pulled tight, his body rigid, as if he’s on the verge of... I don’t know what.
A hard tap sounds behind me and I blink, keeping my eyes on him a moment longer, before running for the front door.
Yanking it open, I muster a smile, swinging the keys in the air in faux enthusiasm, and set them in the questioning officer’s hand. The man at his side gives me a tight-lipped grin as if to apologize for his partner, and within ten minutes, they’re gone.
As soon as the lock is clicked in place, I take a settling breath, flattening my palm against my forehead.
I head out back, but Ransom is gone.
Staring at the still locked gate at the far side of my yard, I lean against the frame, confusion bringing a frown to my face.
I may not have realized it right away, but he saved my ass last night in a big way, and again just now.
He went out of his way and he did it without my asking, without reason and for zero gain. I pretty much depreciated the situation and still he pushed me to go, as if it was his place, as if compelled.
What’s most troubling, though, is the crestfallen look in his eyes, as if it killed him to do as he did. He tried to hide it behind anger and frustration, but I saw it.
Why did you have to go and help me, Ransom Rossi?
My shoulders seem to fall on their own, a long sigh leaving me.
Opening my palm, I run my finger over the golden J key chain my mom gave me for my birthday.
Shit, my mom!
I head back to my room to grab my phone, so I can let her in on what happened with my car, or the version the police provided me with.
I plan to talk to Ransom at school this afternoon, but I don’t get the chance, because he isn’t there.
None of the three are.
Not today, or the rest of the week.
It shouldn’t bother me that I don’t know where they are or why they stay gone, so I tell myself it doesn’t.
When Scott said wear white, I thought it was his way of being an ass and letting me in on how he connected the dots from the little ‘devil’ and ‘blank canvas’ nonsense at lunch on the first day of school, as if I hadn’t noticed then.
Sitting here at the party, however, I now know it was simply his way of being ominous, leaving me to assume his true meaning—a purposeful mind twister, or it would be, for someone who cared enough to obsess over it.
The party is literally a black light party, so everyone was instructed to wear white, something the girls had to fill me in on when they called me on FaceTime to let me know they were on their way from her parents’ dinner party—thankfully, my car situation gave me an excuse to get out of that. Had they not, I would have shown up in a hunter green dress.
So, I ran back into my closet and here I am, cloaked in white for the second day this week.
This time, though, it’s not a pantsuit, but a thigh-hugging dress. It’s not quite a mini, but I do have to bend at the knee rather than over at the hip to avoid a clear shot of what’s underneath. It’s a halter style that clasps around my neck, the thick straps crisscrossed over my shoulder blades.
Straps that Scott slips his fingers beneath and gives a gentle tug so that I give him my attention.
He smirks from his seat beside me. “Ready for a shot?”
I shake my head, wiggling my glass of water, and face Jules when she lowers onto the tabletop in front of me.
“Okay, the dinner party. You missed some major forbidden vibes. Her dad’s business partner came alone!” Her eyes widen. “Still has the fiancée, I guess, but he showed by himself, and moved tables so he could be closer to ours.”
“Or he moved so he didn’t have to sit in front of the loud-ass speakers all evening.” Cali rolls her eyes, but a smile plays at her bright pink and glowing lips.
“Honey, no. That man took his eyes off you only when he had to... which was when your dad stopped to talk to him.” Jules’ eyes sparkle, and it’s not from the thick layer of glimmer she’s lined them with.
A low laugh leaves me when Cali shrugs a single shoulder, slipping her straw into her mouth.
“Whatever, he’s not here, so I need to find someone to entertain me.” She grins, her perfect white teeth gleaming in the lights.
Amy bounces over with Sammie and a few other girls, and they turn their attention to them.
All of us girls had the same roundabout idea and added some sort of bright makeup that the black lights pick up with ease.
I went with my usual getup of a thick, heavy black wing, but framed it in with some bright purple glitter gel, and even painted my lips the same to match. My hair is in two Dutch braids on top, and I left a few long strands down in front, the rest waved and draped over my back. For a bit of added fun, I took some of my gel shadow and painted it along the curve of the braids, as well as down a few of the loosely curled strands.
I run my fingers through a small strand of hair that lays along my arm and listen in on the conversations around me.
Dax has an interview with People magazine on Monday, they want to know about his decision to turn down his full-ride to Notre Dame in favor of Michigan. He has to lie and claim it was his dream, when really his parents made the decision for him.
Cali wants to party on her parents’ yacht next weekend and thinks she can blackmail her brother into agreeing to take it out of the peninsula and into open waters.
Amy can’t stand the girl in the white crop top who is ‘all over Teddy from chemistry,’ and is looking mighty fine in her booty shorts and go-go boots. Not that Amy would dare acknowledge such an observation out loud. It’s clear in her snotty tone she doesn’t like that the girl is rocking the outfit better than she is, but her friends simply nod and agree and get her a refill when she downs the green drink in her hand.
I look around the place, a large, wide open vacation home rented solely for tonight’s entertainment, likely put together by a team of prominent party planners who spent weeks preparing and days setting up.
Another day, another hundred thousand dollars.
I don’t know how long I sit here, but the girls have gotten louder and lighter on their feet. The guys have busted out the second bottle of Scotland’s finest, imported with ease and a hefty price tag.
I’m ready to call it a night, already planning my escape for the moment they lean in for refills.
But then my eyes are called toward the door as it’s pushed open, and not to its fullest. Not by the guards or greeters on either side as every other person who set foot in this place tonight required.
With simple nods of acknowledgment and subtle shakes of their heads when the men at the door reach for the large iron handles, the boys slip inside without the need of feeling grand or important, all in favor of a quiet entrance.