head out the side door. There’s a swell in my chest at the words, Devils only, a foreign feeling of finally belonging somewhere, with other people. I glance at my friend across the room. It sucks I have to cut her out of this. She’d absolutely flip over it. But there have been too many times she’s left me out, and like Emory said, this is for Devils only.
And I, like the tattoo on my leg says, am a Devil.
“How did you find out about this?” Afton asks when we meet up in the dark, gravel parking lot on the other side of town. She’s wearing jeans with a wide leg and a tank with lots of straps. She looks like a bad ass. I check out the other girls—they’re also dressed appropriately for the night. Jeans. Boots. Sexy tops. They all look like fashion models.
I glance down at my sweater and skirt—different from the one earlier today, but just as prim and proper—and immediately feel out of place. See? This is why I need Sydney. She wouldn’t have let me go to an underground fight looking like a massive dork.
“I keep up with Heston,” Emory says, tugging on his jacket. He stretches his arm over Aubrey’s shoulder and pulls her close. “He told me he’d be here tonight, and since it was actually planned ahead of time, that I should come.”
“What about the rest of us?” Carlton asks. “Is it going to be a problem for a whole contingent from Preston to show up?”
Afton nods. “Especially a group that would probably never hang around one another if we weren’t in a secret club together.”
Even though no one is looking at me, I feel like that comment was a direct hit.
“We’re supporting him,” Elana says, defensively, “and no one gets to determine who we hang out with.”
“Yeah,” Ben says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a roll of cash, “and some of us are here for other reasons. I’m betting on Sebastian to win.”
Caroline asks, “What are the odds?” and the two of them start off toward the dirt path, trading numbers. Carlton removes a cooler from the trunk of his car. He opens it and Elana and Afton both take a beer. Emory grabs the other side of the cooler and they carry it down the path.
“What is this place anyway?” I ask. We’re in a wooded area off one of the city parks. Lights glow through the trees, but there’s not a lot of traffic in the distance. This place is deserted and quiet—or would be, if not for the couple dozen cars that litter the lot.
“You’ve never been here?” Tyson asks. I shake my head. “It’s the old water-works building. It’s been abandoned for decades. Now all that’s left are the derelict remains.”
“Everyone comes here,” Georgia declares, which makes it only that much more obvious how sheltered I am. “There’s a bunch of walls to graffiti, people build bonfires, smoke a lot of weed.”
“Skateboarders,” Carlton adds. “All those empty pools.”
Apparently, he had to lie to his girlfriend to get here tonight. I know the feeling. I told Sydney I had a headache and wanted to just crash early. We’re technically speaking again, but it’s awkward and strained. It’s hard to forget the way she called me delusional, and even harder to tolerate all of her slavering over Reyn.
If nothing else, at least I have his promise.
As everyone walks toward the building, the object of my thoughts appears in my periphery.
I spot his Jeep and turn to Tyson. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a second. I just remembered that I need to put something in the car.”
Tyson waves and he and Georgia walk off toward the others. I hold back, eyeing Reyn, who’s leaning against the side of his car. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and a clean pair of jeans, and I can’t help but think, Damn. I was on that. He watches the others get a few feet away before pushing off the car and walking over.
He looks in a better mood than he had after the Jerry incident, at least. His features still have a touch of that stony darkness, but his eyes are soft as they take me in. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I reply, wanting to reach out and touch literally any part of him. We’re in uncharted territory. Public, but not public. My brother approves of us being Devils together, but beyond that…