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Unease settled over my shoulders as the voices grew further away as everyone made their way to start their games.
Until I was the only one left without a path to take.
I glanced around the suddenly empty space. The fear that I didn’t belong here crept in. Maybe my invitation had been a mistake. I started to turn back, but a voice stopped me before I could take a step.
“You’re Gwen, right?” a masked guide asked with a tone that said he already knew the answer.
Too shocked to ask how he knew me, I answered, “Yeah. I mean, yes, that’s me.”
He nodded, his posture rigid, like he was on an important mission. “Thank fuck I found you. They told me not to let you get lost.”
They?
My eyebrows rose, the question Who told you? on the tip of my tongue, but he continued without noticing my reaction.
“You won’t find your path here. You’re on the other side of the house.” He turned, heading that way, just shy of running with his glow stick. “Come on. If I get you there late, I’m dead.”
Taking pity on the guy, I followed after him. Some of the nervousness drained out of him, and his steps slowed slightly as he saw me close behind.
He didn’t speak as we made our way around the house, but his quick glances toward me made it seem like he was holding back his curiosity.
After the fourth time, I chuckled. “Okay, what is it? Just ask.”
He paused for a beat before continuing. “It’s just that this is my third year, and it’s the first time I’ve seen the Regents participating.”
“That can’t be true.” They were known for throwing these parties.
“They may host it, but that doesn’t mean they attend. Well, until now.” He stopped in front of the head of a path that wound toward a black-and-green striped tent. A large gold key marked the post. The same one printed first on my card.
It was then I noticed how quiet it was.
“Uh… am I the only one here?”
“Yeah, like I said, the Regents don’t normally participate. You’re the first and only one who’s been allowed in this section.”
Only one.
Excitement fluttered low in my stomach, immediately followed by the urge to turn around.
Every instinct I’d spent years sharpening told me being singled out was dangerous. Keep your head down. Don’t give people a reason to remember you.
But I’d already spent years listening to that voice, and for once, I ignored it.
I was still processing the information when he rushed me along, saying something about him waiting.
“Who?”
“Thorne.”
A shiver rolled down my spine. I’d written ENTITLED ASS across his coffee cup after he cut the entire line at the café where I worked, like waiting was something reserved for us commoners.
He’d looked down at the cup. Then at me, one silver eye and one black.
And smiled.
He’d been back every Friday since.
Chapter 3
