by Somers, Jill
Drax, who had known nothing about the meet-up, came up from the front desk with a dumbfounded expression on his face. When he stepped out of the elevator, they all cheered, offering him hugs and congratulations on his recovery despite the fact that he had returned to class two days earlier.
Quinn, who had only managed to half-zip her new little black dress and was still in the process of figuring out her hair, stepped into the hallway to offer him a similar greeting. He shook his head when he saw her, eyes wide with admiration.
“I think this is all your influence,” he said, hugging her tightly. “None of these jokers were like this before you came along.”
“It’s true,” said a voice from behind him, and she pulled away from Drax to reveal two YA outsiders standing behind him: Dash and Ridley.
She stared up at Dash for a moment, silver eyes meeting gold, and her instinct, as it had been lately, was to look away. But she forced herself to keep her gaze locked on him this time. He had spoken to her. He had made the effort. It was her turn.
She didn’t respond to him, but she didn’t hide the small smile that crept onto her face, and it wasn’t long before he returned it.
She hadn’t forgotten all the complications, hesitations, and hidden truths between them. She was sure he hadn’t, either. It just didn’t matter enough to stop.
“What are you two doing here?” she asked, this time focusing her attention toward Ridley, who she hadn’t asked to be her date this time. She’d had a great time with him the last time, but her escapade on the roof with Dash hadn’t exactly been fair to him. And she couldn’t promise that the same thing wouldn’t happen again. “Come to pregame with a bunch of underage students?”
Ridley and Dash both laughed, though she didn’t miss the discomfort in Dash’s laugh. Probably for the best, she mused. It was his job to keep them safe.
“Actually, I came here to let you know that I’m heading out on a run to Fiji,” Ridley explained to her. “Just in case you had a crisis and wondered why you couldn’t reach me.”
The likelihood of that happening was high enough that she understood why he’d come, she had to admit. “A run? Like, picking up another recruit?”
“No, no,” he said quickly. “We haven’t had any new recruits since you—believe me, you’d know. Sometimes they send the security personnel to go pick up goods from Fiji. As you might have guessed, we have a bit of an under-the-radar world trade market going, and Fiji is our pickup point.”
Quinn had never given it much thought, but it made sense. The clothes on her back, the alcohol they drank at parties, the ingredients in the food she ate, the movies she and Haley watched together —it all had to come from somewhere. There was probably a handful of people with the ability to conjure things up, but those types of abilities had their limitations. And while there were farmers and builders on the island, there was no way they supplied everything. Besides, what of Charlie’s parents bringing their wealth from the real world back to the island? Wealth would mean nothing on the island unless there was some way to spend it.
Again, she wondered how their little island and its operations could be kept such a secret with so many gaping holes in its subtlety.
But she knew what response she would get from Ridley—the same one she had been getting from him and Dash for days. There are things you don’t know, and you’re not ready to know. So she let it go, wishing him safe travels, and he took his leave. Dash, to her surprise, did not.
“What about you?” she asked him. “You going to Fiji too?”
“No. But I won’t be coming to the party, either. I came here to remind you all to be careful and to be safe tonight.”
Booing erupted from all around them, but Quinn didn’t listen to them, nor did she echo them. The look she had exchanged with him minutes ago had emboldened her, and suddenly she felt confident—powerful. Powerful enough to know that she could change his mind. Whether he knew it or not, he was going to the party.
“Really,” she said, taking a step toward him. She reached out to touch his shirt—a crisp, black button-down that was more stylish than his normal ensemble. She latched two of her fingers between two of the buttons, locking eyes with him. “Nice shirt for a night in.”
She kept hold of his shirt, staying tauntingly close to him. Neither of them blinked. Was she making the temperature in the room twice as hot, or was it her own skin?
“Laundry day,” he said, though his tone was anything but dismissive. Whether he admitted it or not, she could see in his eyes that her strategy was working. “I’ve got work to catch up on. Evening run to go on. You know—the exciting things.”
A grin played at the corners of her lips. He was toying with her. Daring her to beg him. Well, two could play at that game.
“I could think of a few more exciting things… But I understand.” She released his shirt, bringing a finger up to her lips, tapping them and watching his eyes as she did so. He was staring right at her lips. She reached to twist her hair up on top of her head. She could feel his eyes on her neck now, her shoulders, her body. It would have been offensive if she hadn’t led him to it so deliberately. She coyly turned her back to him, face still turned towards him. “Zip me up before you go?”
He took a step closer to her, resting one hand on the zipper. He hesitated for a split second. She held her breath, waiting.
He leaned down, ever so slightly, until his lips were at her ear.
He zipped the zipper so fast, he nearly broke it.
“I’ll see you there,” he whispered into her ear.
And he was gone.
She exhaled, realizing as she glanced around that everyone else had fallen to a dead silence and was staring at her with wide, intrigued eyes.
She blushed from ear to ear, running back into her room to finish getting ready.
• • •
Everyone continued to chat, dance, and goof around while getting ready for another hour or so. Quinn tried to focus on her friends, but she found it difficult to think about anything other than Dash’s hands on her zipper. Slowly the crowd in the hallway filtered out until it was just her, Trent, Pence, Haley, and Charlie. Finally, Charlie pointed out that if they didn’t leave soon, Drax would spend the rest of the night yelling at them.
They fell into step together, and Quinn tried to focus on the company at hand. Pence and Charlie looked great together—undoubtedly, they would be the handsomest couple in the room. Trent, as usual, looked dashing, and had the smug grin to match it.
“You two look incredible,” he informed her and Haley. “Do you think they put the two prettiest girls on the island in a room together on purpose?”
Quinn rolled her eyes. Haley giggled. Quinn made a mental note to have a serious talk with Trent at some point. She knew exactly what he wanted, but Haley probably didn’t. And even if she didn’t do the best job of it, Quinn wanted to look out for Haley whenever possible.
It was already dark outside when they exited the dorms, moon shining steadily. Perfect night to spend on a roof, thought Quinn.
The penthouse was packed when they arrived—much more so than at Quinn’s own party. It wasn’t just members of the YA and their age group that were there. There were people Quinn didn’t even recognize. Many of them were monsters, just like Drax.
A circle of people stood in the center of the penthouse, all of whom turned to cheer when they saw the fivesome enter. Included in the circle were Drax, Angel, Izzo, and Tommy. Trent, Pence, Haley, and Charlie headed straight for the circle, but Quinn hung back, scanning the room.
She didn’t see Dash yet, which was no surprise. She assumed he’d made some subtle entrance in a shadowy corner of the room if he entered the real party at all. She might not even see him until she decided to go to the roof.
But she wasn’t going to go up there just yet. She had to at least make some effort to socialize, if only for Drax.
Her eyes stopped scanning when they reached the unlikeliest target: Shade. She had to
blink to make sure he was real; this was the last place she would have expected to see him.
But it was him, and he was alone—hunched over the bar at the far end of the room, looking down into an untouched, lime green drink.
She headed over to him, deciding that if nothing else, she would have to rescue him from that drink.
She walked slowly, not wanting to alarm him, and left one stool between them as she took her seat at the bar. He noticed her the moment she sat, she could tell. But he looked back down at his drink immediately.
“Hey, Quinn,” the bartender said good-naturedly when he saw her. He reached under the bar and pulled out a pack of Parliaments, sliding them across the bar. “I stocked up on these for you after last time.”
She beamed, accepting them gratefully. “Thanks, Hank. But I gotta ask you, man. Did you concoct this poisonous-looking substance my friend Shade has over here?”
Shade looked up, eyes wide and embarrassed. It was the first time Quinn had seen any sort of vulnerable emotion in him.
Hank, too, looked embarrassed. “My little sister came up with the drink menu,” he explained. “Monster-themed drinks. She’s a big fan of Drax.”
Quinn followed his gaze over to a teenage girl, probably fifteen or so, who had made her way to the YA circle and was chatting with Drax. The girl looked almost normal from where Quinn was sitting, save for her long, striped tail.
“Might wanna warn her,” Quinn said, turning back to Hank with a small grin. “I hear the guy plays for the other team.”
He laughed. “She knows. She just looks up to him. It’s rare for someone like us to have so many friends, to have a job outside of security. He’s sort of a role model to her.”
Quinn nodded. She loved hearing that Drax was a role model with this crowd; he was a much better one than she was. “So, what’s the drink?” she asked, turning to face Shade, who was back to pretending not to notice her.
“It’s called a Frankenstein,” Hank said when he saw that Shade wasn’t going to answer her. “I guess I should make him something else.”
“I’ll take the same whiskey I got last time. And let’s try a nice mint mojito for my friend here.”
Hank nodded and got to work on the drinks. Quinn stripped the wrapping off her pack of cigarettes, giving Shade the chance to start the conversation. To her surprise, he finally did.
“Why did you say that?” he asked her, pushing the green drink away from him. “Why did you call me your friend?”
His question made her sad. A lot of things about Shade made her sad. “Why not? We’re both in the YA together. We stopped torturing each other in power tech and went for a milder approach, before Dash changed up the groups. Doesn’t that mean we kind of like each other?”
He didn’t look directly into her eyes; he looked somewhere down and to the left of them. His voice was shaky, but his words were direct. “I don’t like any of you. Especially you. You put me in—”
“Immeasurable pain, I know, I know. Look, Shade, I’m sorry about that. At the time, I thought you were reading my mind—you know—forcing me to watch my best friend die. I mean, you were forcing me to watch my best friend die, you just didn’t know it.”
Hank slid their drinks to them wordlessly, sensing the tone shift in conversation. She gave him a visual thank-you before turning back to Shade.
“Why don’t you like us?” she asked him, sensing that she wasn’t going to get a response to her previous statement. She sipped her drink, waiting for him to drink his. He did not.
“You’re bad people,” he told her, looking down at the new drink. He stirred the straw, pushing the mint leaves around. “Monsters.”
She stared at him, floored. What was that supposed to mean? Not everyone in the YA was visibly affected, which meant Shade considered all deviants to be monsters. “Wouldn’t that mean you’re a monster, too?”
He stood suddenly, expression darker than ever. He glared at her, finally looking into her eyes.
“Yes. I am a monster.”
And he started to leave.
“Shade,” she said, jumping out of her own chair. For the first time in several minutes, she became aware of the room around her. Dash was there, she realized, in the center of the room with the YA, watching her. Everyone was watching her. But none of that mattered in that moment.
There was something wrong with Shade, and she had no idea what to do about it.
She caught up to him, blocking his path and grabbing him by the arm, realizing the moment she saw his reaction that it was a bad idea. He wasn’t good with touching. She released him, but stood firmly in his way.
It wasn’t easy mustering up the courage to say what she wanted to say to him. Not when she was about to contradict everything she had tried so hard convincing everyone else she believed. But she had to.
“You’re not a monster. Neither am I. Neither is Drax. Okay? We’re different than them, so fear us. They call us these names because they don’t understand. And we go along with them because we’re too tired not to. But we are not monsters. We’re people.”
He hesitated, frozen still, and for a split second, she thought she may have actually gotten to him.
But then he left.
She stared after him for several seconds, unsure what to think. What had happened to Shade that made him think so little of himself and those like him? She was often the first to call herself a monster to outsiders, but it was different for her. She used the phrase with a sense of twisted pride—almost bragging. That wasn’t the case with Shade. He used it with utter self-loathing.
It explained so much about him, and yet it opened the door to so many new questions. She felt sadder than ever for him.
“Hey,” said a gentle voice from behind her. She didn’t have to turn to know who it was. The way that one simple word instantly calmed her nerves, it could only be one person.
Of course, directly after her nerves were calmed by his voice, she turned around, saw his face, and lost her nerves all over again.
At least this discomfort, she was used to.
“You okay?” Dash asked her. “That looked… intense.”
She nodded, finishing off her whiskey in one large gulp. “It was a lot easier hating Shade when I thought he was an asshole. Now I just…” She shook her head. She didn’t even know what she thought any more.
“I know. Savannah says he’s damaged beyond repair. We don’t know what happened to him before he came here, but it was bad. And beyond that, his emotional issues… He needs more help than we can give him here, unfortunately.”
She nodded, deep in thought. They had done horrible things to her out there in the real world—unforgivable things. But she wasn’t the only one. She was starting to realize that maybe she hadn’t gotten the worst of it.
“You look like you need another drink,” he decided, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “I’ll grab it. Why don’t you go say hi to the group? They said they were waiting for you… Some sort of game?”
She groaned, having forgotten all about the game she had helped invent. He laughed, giving her a playful shove in their direction as he made his way to the bar to get their round of drinks. She trudged over to the rest of the group, mind spinning between thoughts of Shade and Dash.
“Well, look who it is,” Drax said in amusement when she finally made it to the YA circle. “Thought maybe you’d replaced me with Shade there for a second.”
Everyone harder than they should have at that, as if the idea of Quinn and Shade being friends was somehow unthinkable. Quinn tried to fake a laugh, as much as it hurt. She knew she shouldn’t resent them for making fun of Shade; they didn’t understand.
“Now that you’ve finally graced us with your presence,” Angel said to Quinn, a twinge of amusement rather than the usual hostility to her tone, “we can get started. Drax, in honor of you, we have come up with a game that we think you’ll enjoy. It’s called strip story.”
Drax raised his eyebrows, grinning. “I’m
intrigued.”
Angel began to rattle off the rules, but it wasn’t long before Dash returned with their drinks, slipping directly next to her, rendering her unable to think about anything except the intense heat radiating between them. She drank her fresh whiskey a little faster than usual, hoping the fiery sensation from the drink would at least give her an excuse for the feeling.
“…and anyway, it was Quinn who came up with it,” Angel was saying, “so I say she asks the first question. And picks the first victim.”
Quinn grimaced. She didn’t hate the idea of asking the first question, but it would inevitably flip on her, and the last thing she wanted was to tell these people a story of their choosing. Still, they had been waiting on her to start the game; she couldn’t just leave without even attempting to participate.
She scanned the faces around her, considering her options. She had recently learned more about Tommy, Izzo, and Angel. She knew Pence and Charlie’s stories fairly well, and though she still didn’t know the specifics of Haley’s history, she would never ask her closest friend such a personal question at a party. That left Trent. She had always considered him an open book, but what did she really know about him?
Besides, if anyone was going to ask her a throwaway return question that was easy for her to answer, or at least to lie about, it was him.
“Trent,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “You walk around like the world’s your oyster. Like you’ve got it all dialed in and you’re just here for the ride. Is that how it’s always been for you?”
He held her gaze. His expression was hard to read. Hurt, slightly. Flattered, at the same time. She could see from the flashing behind those handsome eyes of his that it wasn’t as simple as she had expected. She knew that if she had asked him in a different place, in a different context, she probably would have gotten a more honest answer. But she had a feeling she’d still get a bit of the truth.
“I was the coolest kid around,” he said. “For years. After the event. Middle school. Even the beginning of high school. My ability was easy to hide, you know? Everyone just thought I worked out a lot. But I took it too far. Bragged too much. My parents tried to help me, told people they were crazy, I couldn’t possibly be a deviant. I was everyone’s best friend. But it didn’t matter. A freak’s a freak. They caught me and that was that.”