“So the president doesn’t know everything.”
“Neither of you have social media, which is pretty ridiculous.” He shot me a pointed look. “How do you show off about your life?”
I hid my laugh behind the glass as I took another sip. I had no life to show off about, so even if Dr. Maslow hadn’t insisted from early on that social media was bad, I probably wouldn’t have caved. Aisha was obsessed with Instagram and TikTok. Sometimes, when I was feeling extra lonely, I understood the value of the platforms. You couldn’t feel like you were alone in the world if you were scrolling endless content with proof that there were others out there. I also wasn’t as desperate for attention. I lowered my glass and nodded toward the dance floor.
“There are a lot of girls here.”
“An all-guy party wouldn’t be very fun.” His mouth tilted.
“Are you going to dance?”
“No.”
“So you’re just going to stand here all night and watch everyone dance?”
“You’re free to do whatever you want.” He shrugged a shoulder.
I drained the rest of my whiskey, set the glass down, and made my way to the dance floor. There was no way my hips could ever resist a song, and I definitely wanted to talk to someone besides Adam. When I reached the side of the dance floor opposite of him, I looked back up and saw him watching me.
“You here alone?”
“Maybe.” I looked up at the guy beside me. He was wearing a black cloak and mask. His lips pulled into a wide, slow grin at my answer.
“I’m assuming the black cloak means you’re part of a different secret society?”
“The best one.”
“Really?” I let out a laugh. “What’s so special about it?”
“Aside from the fact that I’m in it?” He glanced around the room. “I guess the same thing that goes along with most of the other societies.”
“Ah, I thought you were going to try to convince me to jump ship and join yours instead.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” He smiled and eyed me again. “That white cloak means trouble.”
“Trouble how?” I glanced around the room quickly and realized I was the only one wearing one. Shit. How had I not noticed that before?
“It means you’re off-limits.”
“Yet you decided to saddle up and come talk to me.”
“I have a thing about rules.”
“Interesting.” I raised an eyebrow. “So do I.”
“What’s your name, Lamb?”
“Stella.” I fought back a shiver. “What’s yours?”
“Nolan.” He cocked his head. “Stella what?”
“Thompson.” I mimicked his movement. “Nolan what?”
“Astor.”
“Well, shit.” I shook my head and looked in the direction I’d left Adam, finding he was still staring at me.
I couldn’t say exactly how, but I could tell he was brooding. Maybe in the way his jaw ticked or the way his glass seemed to be frozen mid-air, as if he was holding his breath in anticipation of how this would play out.
“My reputation precedes me,” Nolan said. “I used to think that was a good thing. These days, I’m not so sure.”
“Does it matter to you if it’s a bad thing?”
“I guess it depends on what they’re saying.” He shrugged a shoulder, stirring his nearly empty glass.
“What about your brother?”
“What about him?” When he met my gaze this time, his expression was serious.
“What’s his reputation?”
“With him, what you see is what you get.”
“And with you?”
“I rarely let anyone see me.”
“Must be lonely.”
“I’ll live.” His lip twitched. It struck me that his mouth and chin and jaw were eerily similar to Adam’s.
“Who’s older? You or Adam?”
“Him.” He set the glass down behind him. “By one minute.”
“You’re twins.” My brows rose. My heart felt like it had leaped twenty steps with the knowledge. What were the chances? “Your hair is long.”
“Most people focus on the scar.” He grabbed my hand. I jolted at the movement. And brought it up to his mouth, letting the tips of my fingers brush over his soft lips and the scar he was pointing out.
“How’d you get it?” I managed over roaring ears.
“Hockey.”
“Oh.” I pulled my hand away and grabbed onto the side of the cloak I wore.
“So you and my brother are a thing.”
“No.” I frowned. “Why would you say that?”
“Just a guess.”
“Wrong guess.”
“So, if I ask you to leave this party with me, you’d do it?”
My eyes flicked up to his, heart slamming against its cage. Why was I hesitating? It was unlike me in a situation like this. I thought of Karen, who had a theory on moral code and how that feeling deep within our gut is what drives it. I’d always rolled my eyes at the theory, told her the only thing rumbling in my gut was whiskey and Taco Bell. As I held Nolan’s gaze through our masks, I wondered if this was my limit. My moral code. Because I’d have to see Adam in the forthcoming days. I’d need him to answer questions for me if I wanted to find out where the real Stella was. If I wanted to meet her. People did things for their families all the time—bad things, good things, and whatever seeped into the cracks in between. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was up for that challenge. I didn’t know Stella yet, but she was coursing through my veins and I needed to find her.
“I wouldn’t,” I said, finally.
Nolan smiled and gave a nod.
“Why would you ask a girl you think is involved with your brother to go home with you?”
“Why would I not?” He tilted his head slightly.
“It’s wrong.” I frowned.
“All the more reason for the invite.” He chuckled, straightening. “Well, it was nice talking to you, Stella Thompson. Good luck at the burial?”
“What burial?”
“Yours.”
With that, he walked off.
My heart roared so loudly, it drowned out the music. A bartender walked by with a tray and paused, lifting it as if to offer me a drink. I looked at the tray, which had nine glasses on it. Each row was labeled: tequila, vodka, whiskey. I grabbed the whiskey and began drinking it quickly, but stopped midway. If I kept at it, I’d get drunk and I couldn’t, wouldn’t, let my guard down in here. I looked up and Adam was no longer upstairs. The music switched to rap. There were guys rapping along loudly, everyone seemed to be bobbing in sync, the way I normally would have been but my feet were lead, rooted to the ground.
Burial.
Mine.
What?
It took me the length of the song to shake it off as hyperbole. He was trying to spook me, trying to make me second-guess my decision to choose this society over any other. He had a competitive nature. One five-minute conversation with him and I knew that. Another black cloak stood beside me. I sighed heavily.
“What’s the deal with you black cloaks? You walk around trying to size up the opponent?” I said before the tall guy beside me had a chance to.