Page 6

Brooks leans in, eyes glinting, lips parting with anticipation.

“I’m going to ask you a question, but you must answer truthfully.” She raises her brow. “I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“Ah.” He nods. “I know what this is about.” Clearing his throat, he assumes an expression of false humility, and says, “Yes, as it turns out, I am often mistaken for JFK junior, which is why I think we go so perfectly together.” He lifts his chin, rears his head back, and waits for a laugh that never arrives.

“Interesting,” Elodie says, her flat expression suggesting otherwise. “But what I really need to know is what day you were born.”

Brooks squints, takes a quick look at his friend, then, returning to Elodie, he says, “Is this some kind of astrology thing? Because I’m a Leo. And you know what they say about lions—they’re king of the fucking jun—”

Before he can finish, Elodie’s already turning away.

“Hey, what—what just happened?” Brooks glances between the back of Elodie’s head and me. “What’d I do wrong?”

“She’s looking for a Gemini,” I say, then giving him a view of my own back, I take a quick but thorough survey of the room.

The place is packed with a young and fashionable after-work crowd, and though I sift through the sea of faces, searching for one that matches the memory I hold of my dad, so far, no one comes close.

A few moments later, Elodie reappears and hands me a martini glass filled with a bright pink liquid with a candied lime peel clinging to its side.

“A cosmo?” I blink at her. “Seriously?”

“I will not be denied my Carrie Bradshaw moment.” She grins, happily clinking her own glass to mine.

“I can’t believe you spent what little money we have on cocktails,” I grumble.

Elodie rolls her eyes. “Why would we need money when we have the most powerful currency—our youth, good looks, and charm?”

I shake my head. “You’ve made way too many Trips to Regency England,” I say, laughing in spite of myself. “Also, you’re way more of a Samantha. Also-also—I’m not drinking this. I need a clear head when I do finally meet him. Or should I say,ifI meet him?”

“Noifs.” Elodie wags a scolding finger. “Seriously, Nat, it’s going to happen. You just need to trust. So please, take a damn sip already. And, by the way, I can’t believe I have to beg you. Do you even remember how fun you used to be?”

My body goes rigid, my fingers tense against the stem of my glass.Do I remember?Like I could ever forget the impulsive, reckless, earlier version of me. The girl who loved nothing more than ditching school, going to clubs, and making out with random boys. Sure, we had fun, but look where it got me.

Knowing better than to take her bait, I skate past it and say, “Look around, El—he’s not here. This whole intention thing isn’t working, and I’m starting to think I’ve made a huge mistake by taking this Trip. It was impulsive, and stupid, and…” I shake my head, knowing I’m getting worked up but unable to stop.

I mean, why did I ever think I could show up in a timeline that isn’t mine, and just stumble upon my dad in a city that’s said to be over six million strong? It’s the worst kind of magical thinking. And what happens if we never find him, and Arthur returns early and discovers we’re gone? I can’t even imagine how he’ll react. But one thing’s for sure, it won’t be good.

The thought alone is enough to set my mind reeling with all the possible repercussions and punishments Arthur could likely bestow.

He could stop all payments to my mom.

Or worse, he could send me right back to juvenile hall.

Considering how it wasn’t all that long ago when I wanted nothing more than to return to my old life no matter the cost, it’s funny to realize I now view it as the worst possible outcome.

The difference is, now that I know what’s at stake, it’s imperative I remain at Gray Wolf long enough to find a way to crush Arthur’s dream.

And yet, because of this one incredibly rash decision, I’ve single-handedly put the fate of the entire world at ris—

Suddenly, an elbow jams into my side—a sharp, brutal blow that instantly knocks me off balance.

My arms flail, frantically trying to regain my footing, but it’s no use. My glass slips from my grasp, sending a shower of sticky, pink liquid splashing down the front of my top, before it crashes to the floor, shattering with a loud piercing sound.

“Watch it!” Elodie’s voice cuts through the noise as she pushes the drunk guy out of the way and rushes to my aid.

But she’s too late. My foot skids on a slick patch, and in a moment that stretches out for eternity, I find myself plummeting straight toward the floor.

“Shit!” Abandoning her own drink, Elodie drops down beside me where I’ve landed in a puddle of liquor. “Nat, you okay?” Her voice is laced with worry as her eyes search my face.