Chapter 15

411K 7.3K 3.4K
                                    

He knew she was here.

It wasn't a sixth sense. It wasn't his growing intuition and perception with everything that has been happening in the past few months. His mind was already becoming so overwhelmed—why this? Why did she have to be tangled into this too?

It was a distraction from the bigger picture.

His eyes scanned the crowd for a familiar shock of white blonde hair.

And somehow, in some strange twist the Universe took disgusting pleasure in, she was the one thing in the whole wide world that determined whether or not he lived or died.

Heavy bass pulsed around him, injecting his already thumping heartbeat with a vigor that made his chest feel like it was going to cave in. The alcohol didn't help that either, but it beat the anxiousness that made him quake on the inside. She was here, but so were they. Hidden somewhere in the shadows of the giant house he was in, they were watching his every move and reporting it back to the base.

The phone in his pocket felt like a ticking time bomb—and all for a stupid memory stick.

What are you waiting for? He could hear them say. Find her and get it back.

If only it were that easy. The thought propelled him forward and he pulled his phone out of his pocket, typing as best as the alcoholic haze would allow him, and proceeded through the crowd as though nothing had happened.

Bodies pushed into him. The floor was slick under his shoes. An attractive blonde touched his chest and grinned at him in a way that made him want to forget about his task and take her away to one of the rooms upstairs. But this wasn't the time. And she wasn't the blonde he wanted.

Another rumble of music hit him in the chest.

And then he saw her leaned up against a counter with a red cup in her hands. The pale light of the kitchen washed her out, leaving only the deep red of her lips and the bright blue of her eyes. She looked innocent and a part of him was almost sad that she managed to get mixed up in all of this—almost.

* * *

"I'm wet." I complain once we're certain Hayden and his friends are nowhere in sight.

Abigail ushers me around a beer pong table and we end up right back in the kitchen where we hid our phones before going to the pool. One look at the alcohol on the counter, however, makes my stomach twist and turn. Just the thought of another drink makes me want to puke. I'm doing well keeping it down—I'm not ruining that now.

Well, maybe just one—

Nope! No more!

Abigail looks down at her romper and makes a face. "Me too. And not in a good way either."

"I'm officially scarred for life." I gag.

"Oh come on—"

"Don't go any further!" I beg as I lean against the counter for support.

Abigail answers with a wicked grin.

The deep rumble of the bass sends shivers through my body and I lean my head back, swaying to the music as Abigail chats something about her moving to New York in a couple of weeks. It's not that I'm not interested: it's just that the way the music caresses me is too much of a distraction. My body is lost and I can't see straight but I feel lighter than I've felt in a very long time. Everything is perfect except for the fact that my clothes weigh a damn ton.

"We need to change!" I announce to her just as someone brings out a tub of freshly made jungle juice. I'm not dancing in these clothes. No freaking way. And there's no way in hell I'm even sniffing that jungle juice.

Run Bad Boy RunWhere stories live. Discover now