I know there’s a chance he might not be here, especially with Foster being here. If he’s not, I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do …
I freeze as I reach the edge of the crowd and the open space shifts to a road where cars are parked. It’s darker over here, but in the shadows, I can make out two figures. While I can’t make out their faces, I sense that Foster is nearby.
Sense.
I’m starting to sense things now.
Is this another ability that Beth mentioned manifesting?
Before I get noticed, I duck between two vehicles and crouch down, straining to hear what they’re saying. In reality, I know they’re too far away for me to hear, but I still try, and somehow, I do manage to hear them. And very clearly.
“I don’t like this,” Foster says, irritation lacing every syllable. “My fucking brother is here, and if he sees me, he’ll …”
“He’ll what?” The sound of that voice sends a chill across my flesh.
Grey? Foster is talking to Grey?
What the hell?
“You know Kingsley isn’t going to do shit,” Grey continues. “And even if he tried, no one would believe him. You made sure of that.”
“True.” The frustration slowly fades from Foster’s voice. “Still, we should head to another party. Him being here … I’ve got a weird feeling about it.”
“Dude, you probably just smoked too much,” Grey replies. “You always get paranoid when you overdo it. Usually, you don’t give a shit about your brother. You need to remember that you have him wrapped around your little finger, just like you do everyone else. I don’t even know how you fucking do it. It’s amazing, though.”
“Maybe I was good at it, but I think I might be off my game,” Foster mumbles. “Which is why I think we need to roll right now. There’s a party up by Anna’s, which means a lot of higher-ups. I can probably get her to suck me off while we’re there, too.” He sounds amused by the idea.
I stab my fingernails into my palms until I feel blood trickle out of my flesh.
The entire conversation … what he said about Anna … Porter used to tell me all the time that Foster was a player. I never believed him, though, because I rarely saw anything that would lead me to believe that. Then again, I only saw what he wanted me to see. And honestly, I think sometimes I only saw what I wanted to, too blinded by the veil of my delusional feelings for him to see the truth.
I was an idiot. I can see that now.
“Let me just tell Eli we’re taking off. I’d text him, but he never checks his phone,” Grey says over the sound of footsteps.
“Hurry,” Foster replies. “I’m gonna stay here, light up, and make a call.”
They grow quiet then, but the footsteps get louder, which means they’re getting closer to me. I smash my lips together and hunker down lower, every one of my instincts screaming at me to hide.
Don’t let him see me.
Don’t let him know I overheard what he said.
Through the darkness, I spot a figure pass by. But another never appears.
A slamming heartbeat later, the smell of smoke floods my nostrils.
He’s close by and smoking. Shit.
I glance behind me, wondering if I should sneak out and try to backtrack to the fire, but what if he spots me? I guess it probably doesn’t matter. Eli is going to tell him that I’m here anyway. That is, if he hasn’t already.
As I’m mulling over what to do, I hear a phone ring.
He’s calling someone.
A few rings later, I find out who.
“Hey, this is Harlynn. You can leave me a message or you can just text me, because I’m probably just going to text you back anyway.” The sound of my voicemail fills up the silence.
Awesome. He’s calling me.
At least I don’t have my phone on me.
Instead of leaving a message, he hangs up.
“Where the fuck is she?” he mumbles to himself.
Like I have no reason not to answer my phone. Or be out at a party. Or not waiting around for him to call me. The brutal truth is that, in the past, I did wait around for him to call me. All the damn time.
I’m so pathetic.
What I don’t understand is why he doesn’t realize I’m mad at him. The last time we talked, I basically spit in his face. Is he that clueless? Or does he just not care?
I hear Foster dial someone else’s number. At least, I think it’s someone else, but then I hear my voicemail again. This happens three more times before Grey returns.
“Hey, so Eli just told me something weird,” he says. “He said he saw Harlynn a little while ago. He also said she was wearing what looked like pajamas and no shoes.”
“What the hell?” Foster mutters. “Did she come here with someone?”
“Not sure,” Grey replies. “But he said, when he saw her, she came here from a path that goes into the woods … a path that leads to the lake.”
A beat of silence drifts by.
“Why the hell was she by the lake, Foster?” Grey asks demandingly.
“How the hell should I know?” Foster snaps. “And watch your tone with me.”
“You’re the one who’s supposed to be keeping an eye on her,” Grey bites out. “But you clearly aren’t.”
“I’m trying,” he stresses, irritation biting his own tone. “But she’s …” He heaves out a frustrated sigh. “There’s been something off about her since the lake incident.”
Silence trickles by, and I trap my breath inside my chest.
“You think she knows?” Grey finally asks.
“No.” But a hint of doubt rings in Foster’s tone. “How could she?”
“I don’t know.” Grey pauses. “If she’s here, though, she can’t see us hanging out together.”
“I know that.” Foster lets a beat of silence trickle by. “I wonder if my brother knows anything about this?”
“Why would he?” Grey questions. “Him and Harlynn aren’t even friends.”
Foster hesitates. “Maybe not in the past, but ever since the incident, she’s been hanging around him. One of my friends even said they spotted her at a party with him the other night.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. And it’s pissing me off. She’s not his; she’s mine.”
Every single one of muscles constrict as irritation bites through me.
I’m his? Is he kidding me? I belong to no one. I’m a freakin’ person, not an object.
Does he seriously think I belong to him?
Apparently, Grey thinks so, because he says, “I know. And Kingsley should know, but he’s always been an idiot. And he’s been obsessed with Harlynn for years, yet she doesn’t even like him.” Foster doesn’t comment right away, leaving Grey to ask, “Unless that’s changed?”
An unsettling stillness creeps by, and I swear I can hear whispering from the darkness, hundreds of voices overlapping and making it nearly impossible to hear what’s being said. I can make out a few of them, though.
Be careful.
We see you.
It’s coming.
Danger.
Come closer.
The sounds are horribly chilling, but amongst them, I sense the strangest sensation of worry and nearing comfort. Still, with all these things mixed together, it’s making me nauseated to the point that I feel like I’m going to vomit. I force down the urge, though, and bottle it inside me, knowing if I throw up, I’m going to get seen.