Page 137 of Burn Bright

He drops his hands off me. “I saw Beckett head toward the bathroom. Tom and I will be out front waiting for you.”

“You don’t have to leave too.”

“The party is played out anyway.” He wears a wry smile, in part to lighten my mood. Last thing I want is to ruin his night, but arguing with him is futile. So I just let out athanksand try to hang on to the relief of having my brothers around. It’s been more in reach tonight than it has been the past three years.

But I feel it being drowned by this stupid fucking feeling. The severe need to pull away begins to escalate.

I pat his shoulder again, then slide past him, but I can practically feel his worried eyes follow me as I curve my way around the dancers. When I take a sharp turn down the dimly lit hall that leads to the bathrooms, my feet skate to a sudden stop.

I’ve found Beckett near the bathroom door, but he’s not alone. He’s standing two short inches apart from Leo Valavanis, and they’re both talking in hurried, enraged words that I can’t decipher—but that’s not what has my shoes glued to the sticky floor.

Their bodies curveinwardnot outward. Beckett has a hand bracing the wall above Leo’s head. I’m decent at reading body language, and these aren’t two people about to throw punches, even if their voices carry ire.

But it doesn’t make sense—Beckett is straight…I think?

I don’t know his sexual history, but I can’t imagine a world where he’d have hooked up with guys and not told Tom. All my life, all I’ve ever known is that Tom likes guys. It had never been a big deal or a question. And I was there that Christmas when Maximoff, our cousin, came out as bisexual to the family. I wasthere when my ten-year-old brother broke down crying. I think that might’ve been one of the happiest days in Tom’s life.

We’re all out here just striving for empathy. Connection. A common bond between the people we love. I know I’ve gone to bedbeggingfor it. It’s hard to wrap my head around Beckett withholding that from Tom.

So yeah, this doesn’t make any fucking sense.

Personally, I don’t need it to make sense. I just need air.

I reroute out of the hallway without disturbing Beckett and Leo.

My bodyguard follows. Novak’s presence feels more like a weighted blanket than a shadow, and I’m keenly aware of his concern as soon as I head for the back exit doors and not the front. He doesn’t say anything as I push them open—grateful no alarm goes off—and meet the night air.

The doors swing shut behind Novak, and I don’t even have time to think or process. On this empty sidewalk, there’s a girl sitting on the dirty cement in a sparkly pink halter dress. Her back leans up against the wall, and her face is an ashen gray. She looks incredibly fucking unwell. “Heyhey!” I rush to her, dropping to my knees. “What’s wrong?”

Soft brown curls frame her round cheeks. Pieces stick to her clammy forehead. She’s staring beyond me. “I can’t see…I’m going to faint—” The whites of her eyes come into view as her eyeballs roll back.

Shitfuck.Her head slumps, and I catch her cheek in my palm before her skull can collide with the cement. She’s fully passed out on the ground. Looking up at Novak, I shout, “Get help!” He tries the double doors, but they locked behind us. So he sprints around the corner, speaking hurriedly into his radio.

I press my fingers to her damp neck, her pulse a steady thump. Then I find her cell phone beside her, and I turn it infront of her face. The security interface recognizes her features and unlocks. Her last call was to aNikolai Rurik Kotova Jr.

I don’t know who the fuck that is—but I’m about to dial him when a voice of panic pitches into the air.

“There she is!”

I look up to see the girl that Beckett had lifted on the dance floor earlier. Tight red mini dress, pin-straight bleach-blonde hair, long ballerina legs—she’s one of the NYBC dancers. Beth Anne Blanchard. I met her tonight when Beckett introduced me to more of his friends.

She races over with Leo and Beckett at her heels. She squats down to her unresponsive friend while I’m beside her. “Roxy. Roxy.Roxanne.” She snaps her fingers in the brunette’s face, then glances quickly to me. “When did she pass out?”

“Five seconds ago.” I’m still cradling her head.

Beth Anne lets out a breath of relief, and Leo wets a bandana with his water bottle and hands it to her. I’m guessing Leo shares friends with Beckett in the company since he’s out here. I watch as Beth Anne lightly dabs the damp bandana to Roxanne’s forehead. Whatever’s happening seems to be familiar for all three of them because they wait for another few seconds before Roxanne’s eyes flutter open.

“Oh my God,” she moans, warmth returning to her features. Her skin is a light golden-brown hue, and her face pinches in more embarrassment than anything. “This didn’t just happen. Whywhywhy?” she mutters quickly to herself.

“Welcome back to the living, Roxy,” Leo says. “You picked a disgusting place to pass out.”

“Just take it easy,” Beckett advises her and shoots Leo a look.

“Yeah, don’t sit up right away, babe,” Beth Anne adds.

She moans again, more mortified, and sits up straight. Seeing me squatting beside her. “Uh, hi? You’re…Ben Cobalt.”She’s losing color again. Her horrified hazel eyes soar to Beckett above us. “I fainted on your brother?”

“Noton me,” I say lightly. “I just caught you.”