Page 4

Yeah right. He’s gorgeous, albeit not my type.

Every guy I’ve ever gone out with has been like Zander.

Sun-kissed and bright-eyed. Athletic. The friendly guy with the million-dollar smile.

Leo is all stillness and mystery. It’s hard to tell in the bluish light, but I’m pretty sure everything he’s wearing is some shade of gray.

Dark gray. His jacket might even be black.

“Seriously though,” I say. “Why are you standing here in the kitchen all alone?”

“I’m looking for someone worth talking to.”

Emboldened by Cole’s mixed drink, I ask, “And am I someone worth talking to?”

“You’re exactly what I was looking for.”

Hmm, was that a come-on? For the life of me, I can’t tell. All he’s giving me is an enigmatic half-smile. No heavy-lidded eyes, no inching closer. If he’s flirting, then he has a rather unusual style.

“That guy I saw you with, the one with the hair—” He gestures above his head, no doubt referring to Zander’s mop of surfer curls. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, why? Did you want to talk to him?” Maybe that’s what this is all about.

Leo needs Zander for something. Lots of people do.

Zander has an in with just about every person in power: the college Provost, the faculty head of Greek Life, the Dean of Students.

Plus, he comes from a powerful family. His father, Alexander Sr., is the owner of The O’Leary Group, a corporate consulting firm that works with businesses all over the South.

“No.” Leo shakes his head. “Just wondering. It’s you I wanted to talk to.”

“Oh.”

“What happened the other night?”

“You mean when they kicked everybody out?”

He nods and I try not to show my disappointment. He’s just like everyone else; all he wants is the gossip. And who better to get it from than one of the brothers’ girlfriends?

“I saw the ambulance,” he adds.

Not wanting to be rude, I answer, “Some guy OD’d on Molly.”

“OD’d?”

“Yeah. I didn’t think you could OD on that stuff, but I guess you can. ”

He blinks and furrows his thick brows. “What’s OD’d?”

I halt my shock before it can manifest on my face. “Um, you know—overdosed?”

“Overdosed? Oh! O.D.” His smile is endearingly self-effacing. “Okay. I get it.”

“You don’t know what Molly is either, do you?”

He grins sheepishly.

“It’s a nickname for Ecstasy.”

“Ecstasy?”

Does he seriously not know anything about drugs? Even those of us who don’t do them know what they are. Maybe he grew up in some sort of commune away from civilization. Or a religious cult.

I appreciate his candor, though. Most people would pretend they know what I’m talking about.

“It’s an illegal drug. One people take at parties and dance clubs and places like that. It heightens all your senses and makes you feel…euphoric.”

“So you’ve taken this drug before?”

“Who me? No. No way.” I’m the last person who needs to turn up the dial on her senses.

“But you drink.”

“Yeah, so? Don’t you?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize there’s no red cup in his hand, or anywhere close by.

“Sometimes.”

“But not tonight?”

He simply shakes his head.

I can’t figure this guy out. Who comes alone to a frat party, doesn’t drink, and doesn’t talk to anyone but a complete stranger?

And who doesn’t know what OD means? On the outside, he fits in.

He’s as good-looking as any of the Omega Chi brothers, his clothes and hair are in fashion, and he doesn’t have a foreign accent—or any accent, for that matter. So why does he seem so out of place?

I’m blatantly studying him and he’s letting me. He doesn’t look away or try to fill the silence with small talk. I’m in wonder of him, and that’s dangerous.

When I murmur, “Are you from Mars?” he erupts in the deepest, warmest laugh.

He hooks a reassuring hand around my arm and gently squeezes. “No, I promise you, I’m not from Mars.”

“Sorry.”

“For what?”

“It’s just…you’re different.”

“So are you.”

I scoff. I’m exactly like every other girl at this party.

“Tell me about the guy who overdosed. Do you know if he’s okay?”

“He is. He got out of the hospital last night.”

“That’s good news.” Leo looks genuinely relieved.

“Yeah, I just found out a couple of hours ago. He’s all I’ve been thinking about for the past two days.”

“So it was really that bad?”

I wrap my arms around myself to keep from shivering. “He was having seizures.”

“Seizures?” There’s concern in Leo’s tone, not excitement. Maybe he doesn’t just care about getting the scoop.

“Yeah, and I saw it happening.” And now I can’t get it out of my head.

“You seemed pretty upset.”

“Well, I’ve never seen anyone having seizures?—”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about before then.” Leo bends his head low, forcing me to step closer to hear him. “You knew something bad was happening, even though you didn’t know what it was.”

Everything around me goes still, and suddenly I’m as sober as a Sunday morning. “I’m sorry—what?”

“I saw you,” he says gently. “Before anyone started yelling or screaming. You were scared. ”

I shake my head. “No, I wasn’t.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures me. Because he knows I’m lying.

And yet I persist. “No, that was something else.”

He backs up a step or two, keeps his voice soft and controlled. “How did you know? Did you hear him, or did you see him?”

“I was up here. How could I have seen him?”

“Not that kind of seeing.”

“What other kind of seeing is there?”

“A premonition. Or a vision.”

“A vision?” I scan his face for signs that he’s joking.

There are none.

“Yes, a vision.”

My only defense is to treat him like he’s three. “You do know real people don’t have visions, right? That only happens in books and movies.” I pat him patronizingly on the shoulder.

He captures my hand. “Real people do have visions.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“Then how did you know something bad was happening?” He seems desperate for me to answer his question and I don’t understand why.

I yank my hand out of his grip and step back. “I’m gonna go find my boyfriend.”

His features soften. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to scare you.”

“Well, you are.”

He takes my hand again and urges me back to him. “I’m just trying to understand what happened to you.”

His eyes are captivating. Other-worldly. And such a dark brown that I can barely distinguish his irises from his pupils. He smells good too, like a forest on an autumn morning.

As though I’m under some sort of spell, I stand outside myself and listen as I whisper, “I didn’t see him, I felt him.”

Leo goes still. “Felt him?” He’s not laughing at me, nor is he rolling his eyes.

“Yes. ”

His hand tightens around mine as he gazes at me in wonder. On a breath he murmurs, “You’re clairsentient.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t move. I don’t want to. There are people laughing and shouting all around us, a band playing downstairs, beer spilled under our feet. But it’s as if there’s a bubble around Leo and me. Like we’re in our own dimension.

Someone brushes past me and the bubble pops. The kitchen comes back into focus and downstairs, the guitarist wails out a solo.

I back away. “I need to find Zander.”

At Leo’s nod, I whip around and dash for the basement stairs.