And Zane, with his dark, slanted eyes and a faint smirk. He wears his dark hair in a tall, green Mohawk, the sides shaved, and has three silver rings through one eyebrow. Tats swirl down his arms all the way to his wrists, full of colors. He looks like a wicked Yakuza boy.
I must be staring at the rings in his eyebrow, because he chuckles and sticks out his tongue where a barbell glints. “Like my metal?”
Whoa.
“Of course she does,” Dylan says and winks. “She likes bad boys.”
That’s the truth. What can I say? Yeah, I prefer bad boys, ever since...
“Hey Ash!” someone calls from behind me. “Have you seen my car keys?”
I spin around, searching the sea of faces, my heart pounding and sweat springing on my face. Excitement and dread mingle in an indefinable, dizzying cocktail.
Is he here? He might be—after all, as Dylan said, this is my high school class and Ash was in it, but I didn’t think of it and now...
“Do you like my place?” Zane says, gesturing around.
I struggle to gather my thoughts. I tug my sweater lower over my black leggings and shift on my high-heeled boots. “This your apartment? Looks great.”
He grins. “Like me.”
“Knock it off,” Dylan growls.
That’s kinda funny. I shoot Dylan a half-annoyed look. What, is he my big brother now? I realize I’m not used to having anyone filling that role anymore. Not that I ever had a brother, but I had Ash, and then I had Dylan.
And then I was alone and hiding from the world.
“Well, the apartment is mine and Erin’s. She’s out of town today.” Zane sips his drink, eyeing me over the rim of his glass. “Erin Wilson.”
I vaguely recall the girl from school. She’s a couple years older than me. “Girlfriend?”
“Just a friend.” He tips his head to the side. “Are you staying at your old house?”
“We sold the house after the accident.” Mom said she couldn’t stand living there without Dad. Truth is, I’m not sure I could, either. “I’m renting an apartment.” Well, technically, Mom is. “Not far from here, in fact. Real close to Tessa’s.”
“How have you been, Audrey?” Rafe says, leaning closer. He’s always been cat-like, but now he’s like a lion, golden and tall, his shoulders broad, stretching his grey T-shirt. Dark ink lines travel from his shoulder down his arm. Zane’s work. He’s inked his closest friends. “It’s been so long. What is it, three years?”
I bite my lip, trying to calm down. “Two and a half. I left mid-year.”
“To Chicago, right? The big city. Did you like it?” He grins and his cheeks dimple.
Christ, when did all the boys I knew turn into heartthrobs?
“It was okay.” Brilliant conversational skills, Audrey, well done. I clear my throat. “It was tough at first. I didn’t know anyone there and Mom worked all the time.” Now I sound whiny. Jesus. “She had to, of course. And after a while it was fine.”
Okay, that’s a big fat lie. It was never fine, and I ran away as soon as I could, which is now. Mom turned into a workaholic and I’ve been lonely and kinda lost.
“You vanished,” Rafe says. “I looked for you online, but I only found your old Twitter and LiveJournal accounts. Are you hiding under a fake name or something?” He winks.
I shrug. “No.”
“Well, you look good,” Zane says, swirling the ice-cubes in his whiskey. His dark eyes narrow to slits. “With the accident, I thought you’d be... different.”
Silence greets his words, and a flash of panic goes through me. “Like what?”
“Z-man, shut your mouth,” Dylan says. His fists clench and he seems about to pound Zane into the wall.
Zane lifts his hands. “Hey, fucker, cool your engines. I only meant... Hell, I don’t know what I meant. You said she was scarred, Dylan. I don’t see any scars, that’s all. That’s a good thing, man.”