She never thought anything bad about anyone.
"Just a long day, lots of stress," I said, leaning against her doorframe.
"Girl"—she pulled me into her room, closing the door behind us—"I know what you're going through. Being the new girl is the worst and coming in junior year blows. Everyone else has already found their groups and you're just kinda wandering. I have been there. But I know the secret."
I loved how she assumed my problems were so entirely high school, but I guessed she was right at least in part, even if her reasoning was willfully naïve. I was lonely and people didn't talk to me, and it was impossible to get to know anyone.
"What's the secret?" I asked, collapsing onto her bed.
"The secret is parties. You better get out there. You've got to go have fun and get to know people. Get your drink on. Maybe find some hot guy to work all that stress out on."
For a brief moment, Artem's face flashed in my mind—those steel-gray eyes, the way his mouth curved when he said my name.
I shook the thought away, disturbed by how easily he invaded my thoughts.
How often at night I'd find myself remembering the feel of his hands, the command in his voice, wondering what it would be like if...
I tipped my head back and laughed, pushing those dangerous thoughts aside.
"Please?" she said, her eyes huge, beseeching. "You know you want to. For me?"
Out of habit, I was about to make some excuse about why I couldn't.
My father would have never allowed me to go to a party, but now he was dead. He was no longer my problem.
But Artem was, my mind screamed.
I pushed the horrible thought aside. Artem was not my keeper.
Even as I thought it, a thrill of defiance shot through me.
What would Artem do if he knew I was going out?
If his men reported back that I was dancing with other men, drinking, enjoying myself?
The thought of provoking him shouldn't have been so appealing. "You know what? Let's do it."
Amy squealed, clapping her hands together and then dragged me up, exclaiming how I needed a wardrobe change.
If I was going to do this, I was going to do this right, and I was at her mercy.
We left maybe forty minutes later.
I was wearing sexy thigh-high boots that made my legs look about three miles long and a short black faux leather skirt like hers with a sexy white button-down top she'd loaned me. It felt normal. Like I was a normal college kid going to blow off some steam…until I saw it.
The all-too-familiar black sedan at the end of the street that crept behind us.
Amy was oblivious to it, of course, but I knew it was there and what it meant.
I wasn't free.
And yet...as I walked toward the party, I couldn't help but wonder if Artem would hear about this.
If he would care.
If somewhere in his cold, calculating mind, the thought of me dressed like this, dancing with other men, might stir something possessive in him.
I shouldn't want that.
