know you were attacked there and you hate the atmosphere, but at least you know the bad guys definitely won’t be back. And now that you and Dax have signed a friend contract there shouldn’t be an issue. Right?”
I sighed. “Right.”
Three hours later, we walked into Masquerade after going back to the hotel to get ready. Lulu went with a silver halter dress with spiked heels that she’d worn to a frat formal last year, and I put on a cream-colored silk number with itsy bitsy spaghetti straps. The skirt was cut into thin strips that swished when I moved. Rhinestones weighted them down, and a nude-colored silk lining kept everything hidden from view. Barely. It was the shortest and sexiest dress I’d ever worn. I went braless since the bodice was thick enough to keep me covered if I got chilly. On my feet, I’d slipped on a pair of white Converse even though Lulu begged and even threatened to cry. I was adamant. There’d be no more tripping over myself.
I applied my make-up with a heavy hand, using black eyeliner, dramatic gray eye shadow, and tons of mascara. I also had carefully defined brows that Lulu had insisted on doing for me. The final touch was a pale buttercream lip-gloss that left all the attention on my hair.
Our names were actually on a list at the ticket counter. Lulu clapped excitedly at this, and even more when the guy at the front door allowed us to pick out free masks from the selection under the glass counter at the entrance. Of course, we chose the most expensive ones—velvet-soft and dramatic with feathers and sparkly jewels around the eyes. We slipped them on and giggled at each other. Lulu snapped a few selfies of us before we elbowed our way to the bar area and found two stools next to each other.
She ordered top shelf vodka martinis while I checked out the crowd, searching for Dax’s broad shoulders or Spider’s telltale blue hair.
“Do you see them?” I asked.
She sipped from her drink, scanning the room. “No, but Spider said they had some phone calls and errands today. I’m sure Dax is tired after getting home late last night.” She turned her gaze on me, giving me a knowing look. “He’s probably still pissed at you. What’s your plan, girlie?”
I sighed heavily. At breakfast, I’d told her about Dax’s late-night visit, the tangible sexual tension between us, and that I’d accidentally said Hartford’s name at the wrong time.
“I don’t know. I’m just winging it.” And I was scared to death. I didn’t know how to define all the feelings I had for him.
“Do you think you’ll ever tell him what happened, Remi?”
I flinched. “Why would I?”
She ran her finger along the rim of her glass. “Maybe because it would make you feel better—”
“No.” My voice sliced through the air.
She sighed. “He’s changed. Or maybe he hasn’t and he’s always been nice, but we never saw it. He’s cocky and thinks he’s hot shit—which he is—but underneath that pretty exterior, he’s a great guy.”
My mouth turned down, remembering the past. The darkness.
She took my drink, sat it down with hers, and dragged me out to the dance floor. “Come on, let’s stop talking. You said after the Chad thing, you wanted to dance, and I want to see it.”
I groaned. Today I was feeling less you only live once and more don’t make a fool of yourself.
“Just get in the middle where no one can see us,” I called out over the rock-techno-classical-music mix as I followed her through a crowd of people dancing.
“All you need is some confidence. See? He likes it.” She nudged her head at a guy next to us, whose eyes were glued to me as we passed by.
I laughed, gaining some confidence. I could do this, right? It’s just wiggling around to a beat.
We found a small open area and she motioned at me to move. I nodded, slid my feet from side to side, and snapped my fingers.
“Swing your arms a little. Don’t be such a robot,” Lulu said, demonstrating.
Okay, okay.
Find your rhythm, Remi.
I lifted my arms and drew circles in the air with my elbows and shook my hips, something I’d seen Malcolm do when he was excited after beating me on the Xbox.
She grimaced. “No. I don’t know what that was. Here try this . . . Use your hands and pretend like you’re washing your hair in the shower, but in a