The mixer is being held in one of the small lounge areas in Winchester House. As one of the largest buildings on campus, Foster explains most activities are held here. It’s another steel and glass structure, and while the historic feel of the campus is missing, I don’t completely hate the sleek lines and interesting proportions.
Foster holds the door open, and as I pass him, I hope to feel his hand again. He holds back this time, and I assure myself it’s obviously a good thing because accidental touching will only make me want more.
The mixer is a few rooms down, and again, Foster gets the door. I’m used to slipping in and out of rooms unnoticed, like a shadow on the wall, but when we walk into the lounge, the reaction couldn’t be more different.
There’s a small commotion.
I quickly step back as two people launch themselves at Foster and a few others make their way over. Everyone is talking fast and smiling a lot, and as I look around at the forty or so people here, it seems as though the entire gathering has stopped with Foster’s arrival.
“Grant, you came!” says a bubbly little blonde with a nose piercing and too much makeup. It looks like a mask in comparison to the man next to her, who is also wearing makeup. As they all work to monopolize Foster’s attention, I slink away into the background where I’m most comfortable.
There are a few people dotted around the room who don’t come to a complete standstill at Foster’s arrival, and my attention catches on one of them as she approaches me.
“Baby unicorn.” The odd girl from the library nods at me. Her tufty black hair looks more uneven than last time I saw her.
“My name is Zach.”
“I didn’t ask for it.”
“What’s your name?”
“Laura, but people call me Ray.”
“Why?”
“Because I tell them to.” She gestures toward the entrance. “Why were you with Grant?”
I look over to where he’s easily accepting the type of attention that would turn me into a shaking mess. A tall girl tugs on his dark brown hair and he turns his smile on her. I wonder what that would feel like. To have one of his honest smiles. “He’s my best friend’s brother. For some reason he thinks I want to be here.”
She eyes me. “Are you gay?”
“Yes. Are you?”
“Ace. Aro. And also, I don’t like people in general.”
“But you are a person.”
“I know.” She scrunches up her face. “Rotten luck, right?”
“To be the most powerful species on earth? Seems like the right kind of luck to me.”
She points to Foster. “He’s powerful. We are not.”
“I beg to disagree. There’s power in being different.” Even if I haven’t figured out what that is yet.
“Only so far as people can exploit it.” She cringes. “Here they come.”
I turn and come face to well, chest, with Foster, as the bubbly girl seemingly bounces up to Ray and presses a kiss to her temple. I don’t know what look I’m wearing, but Ray shakes her head.
“She won’t leave me alone.”
“Ray loves me, really.” The blonde hands Ray a drink and smiles at me. “I’m Vanessa.”
“Zach. Are you friends with Ray? She’s very abrasive.” Again, the internal warning that my words probably come across as rude doesn’t hit until I’ve already spoken. I immediately tense up, waiting for the pissed-off reaction I get so often.
Ray snorts. “Are you sure you’re not a robot?”
The tension releases. “Last I checked.” We share a small smile. “You two seem like unlikely friends.”
Ray points at Foster. “Look who’s talking.”
“We’re not fr—”
Foster cuts me off as he loops his arm around my shoulders. “I know you’re not gonna finish that sentence, Zach.”
“I’m not?”
“Nope. We are friends, and this is why: One, I’ve seen you shirtless.”
“When did you see me shirtless?”
“One break when you were staying at the house with my brother. We crossed paths in the middle of the night on the way to the bathroom. Very memorable.” He keeps talking, listing other random reasons why we’re supposedly friends, but how he expects me to concentrate on anything but the weight over my shoulders and the warmth at my side is beyond me. Is it possible to pass out from nerves? Because I feel dangerously close to—oh. I’ve stopped breathing.
I force down a lungful of oxygen, which might actually be worse because I can almost taste Foster’s woodsy aftershave. The smell of his body wash is making me giddy, and I have the most bizarre compulsion to start laughing.
“—and lastly, how can Seth expect me to look out for you if we’re not friends?”
That’s about the only thing he could have said to kill the laugh. I shrug him off and quickly step away. “I’m not a pity case.”
“I never said you—”
“Maybe I should go.”
“Hell no.” Ray sticks out her leg to stop me from moving. “Misery loves company. If I’m stuck here, so are you, baby unicorn.”