Page 7

Once I’m a safe distance away, I peek at his note again.

It’s written in a cursive so beautiful it looks like calligraphy.

Avery Bauer, 1622 E. Main St., basement apartment.

Avery? Is that a guy or a girl? And how did he/she/they get an apartment on East Main?

That’s the street with the oldest houses, dating all the way back to the late 1700s.

Most of them are stores and businesses, and they’re on the Register of Historic Places. Very few are rented out to students.

With a sigh, I fold the note and tuck it into the front pocket of my bag. Might as well put it out of my mind. Tomorrow night I’ll be hanging out at O-Chi, just like always.

I’m slouched on the beer-stained couch doing everything in my power not to think about Leo’s invitation, including making as much physical contact with Zander as I appropriately can.

And even though Leo’s note, which I stupidly put in my back pocket, is nagging at me like it has claws, I haven’t glanced at the clock more than, oh, about a hundred times.

Liv is in the kitchen with Jenna, Mia, and some other girls, trying to make cocktails with the frat’s scanty collection of non-alcoholic beverages.

“There’s, like, hardly anything in here!” she whines, holding up an orange juice carton.

“So?” Trevor argues from the living room. “All you need is a splash.”

Liv mutters something under her breath, but Trevor isn’t paying attention. He and Zander just started their turn at Mortal Kombat. Zander leans forward and growls, heedless of my legs stretched across his lap.

His twitches and jerks translate to side-kicks and head-butts on the TV screen. “C’mere, bitch!”

“Yeah?” Trevor snarls back. “Take that, motherfucker!”

I don’t know what “that” was, but blood shoots out of Zander’s character like a garden hose.

There are entrails everywhere, yet somehow both fighters are still standing.

I study the chipped blue polish on my fingernails.

When Trevor lets out a victorious hoot, I look back up at the TV.

Zander’s warrior’s large intestine dangles from Trevor’s vampire’s fist.

I groan.

Zander squeezes my knee. “It’s just pixels, babe.”

It’s savage, is what it is.

I notice it’s 7:15. Leo and his friends have gathered by now and I’m welcome to come by anytime.

Liv hands me a drink and flops into an overstuffed chair. I take one small sip and feel the burn all the way down to my stomach. Grimacing, I give her a thumbs-up.

She laughs. “Disgusting, isn’t it?”

A big hand shoots in front of my face. “I’ll take it.” I pass the glass to Braden who swallows a huge gulp with a satisfied “ahhh.”

“You’ve got mad skills,” he tells Liv. “This is a shit-ton better than what Cole makes.”

She admits, “I didn’t have much to work with.”

Braden’s mouth curls and his eyes get all bedroom-y. “Trust me, you’ve got everything you need.”

Okay, that was a bit more than the usual base-level Braden flirt.

Until now, he hasn’t paid much attention to Liv.

To him, she’s always been Zander’s girlfriend’s best friend.

Just one of several sister-like girls who routinely hang out at the frat house.

So why, all of a sudden, is she on his radar?

He must be getting bored with whomever he’s sleeping with.

Liv smiles at him and wriggles in her chair like a little girl on Christmas morning.

It’s cute, but too obvious. Since her parents wouldn’t let her date until she was seventeen, she still has a lot to learn about guys.

Especially guys like Braden. Sure, he’s as hot as a Hemsworth and dangerously charming.

Hell, even I find him lovable. But he’s a scoundrel.

I don’t realize I’m squirming until Zander reprimands me. “Whoa, watch the drink.”

“Sorry.”

As the minutes tick by, I get more and more restless. My skin feels tight and my muscles itch.

More spinal cords, more blood, more decapitations.

It’s nearly eight o’clock. What’s going on at Avery Bauer’s?

Are they having drinks, too? With more than a splash of juice?

Trevor and Braden are talking trash as they beat the crap out of each other on screen.

Even if Leo and his friends are playing Dungeons and Dragons, there has to be less… viscera than I’m seeing right now.

I must be pouting because Zander asks me what’s wrong.

“I dunno. I don’t feel very good.” Not a complete lie.

He rearranges me so I can rest my head on his shoulder. But only a few minutes later, when it’s his turn to play again, I have to sit up so he can use both arms.

What would I miss if I left? Several more rounds of Mortal Kombat?

Some drinking games? Scattered on the coffee table are the remains of the three pizzas we attacked like hyenas.

I can picture myself an hour from now, still sitting on the couch, mindlessly nibbling on one of those stale pieces of crust. Leo’s “something different” has to be more interesting than this.

All I’m doing is hanging around, waiting until Zander decides he wants to go to bed.

And although I’m loath to give up time alone with him, we’ll have tomorrow night, too.

It’s not until after eight thirty that I make the decision.

If I don’t go meet Leo and his friends, I’ll forever torture myself with the “what if.” I’m too curious, too intrigued, too taken in by the mystery that is Leo Hawthorn.

He’s like a detective novel I’m reading late at night.

I know I should stop and go to sleep, but I can’t resist turning the next page.

“I think I’m gonna go back to my room,” I say. It’s a safe excuse. Liv will pass out here like she does most Friday nights. Just hopefully not with Braden.

Zander’s brow furrows. “Really? Why?”

“Headache.”

His eyes light up with understanding. “You want us to play something less violent?”

Ugh. Why does he have to go and be sweet? “No. I really just don’t feel good.”

“Then go to bed.” He gestures upstairs. “I’ll be up in a little bit.”

“No, I want my own bed. You know how it is.” Honestly, a Friday night without sleeping beside Zander feels all kinds of weird. I wish I could go to Avery’s and then come back to him, but there’s no way to finagle it.

“You sure? You want me to walk you back?”

I shake my head and he doesn’t insist. It’s still early and there are tons of people out and about. I grab my jacket and give him a nice long kiss, one that makes him grin.

“You sure you don’t want to stay? I’ve got ibuprofen. ”

I stamp down my guilt. “Thanks, but I need to sleep. I’ll be back tomorrow, though.”

Out in the cold, I huddle in my jacket and occasionally smile at passers-by.

When I get to the end of fraternity row where I’d normally turn off to head to the dorms, I slow down to a crawl.

Maybe I should go back to my room. I feel lousy for lying.

It’s just that I want to hang out with some new people, and there’s no easy way to explain that to Zander.

I take a few steps toward East Main Street. I’ll go just this once. To satisfy my curiosity. Then I won’t hang out with them again. In fact, maybe if I go tonight, Leo will stop showing up at O-Chi. He extended an invitation and I’m taking it. End of transaction.

I grasp onto this idea of closure. It’s reassuring and soothes my conscience, and by the time I reach house number 1622, I hardly feel guilty at all.