Genesis Girl (Blank Slate #1) - Jennifer Bardsley Page 0,14

pants. They match perfectly with my strapless silk top. I throw on my leather jacket, zip on my boots, and start to climb through the open window, right as Seth walks in. Exactly like Cal predicted he would.

“He’ll do precisely what I tell him not to,” Cal told me before the party started.

“Where’re you going?” Seth demands, bursting into the room.

“To get some air.”

“What are you gonna do, jump? It’s the second floor.”

“There’s a ledge,” I counter.

Seth crosses the room in about two strides and slides his arm around my waist, pulling me back. “I’ve got a better idea.” He sets me on my feet. “Let’s go for a ride on my bike.”

That wasn’t the official plan, but Cal did say I could improvise. Maybe this will be easier than I thought.

Ten million stars light up the night. I can hear music piping out of the manor, but Seth and I are outside, standing in front of the biggest motorcycle I’ve ever seen. It’s got the Veritas Rex cobra painted across each side.

“Here you go, princess.” Seth hands me a helmet.

A red helmet.

“I can’t wear that.”

“Safety first, angel.”

Again with the mocking! I wish Beau were here to teach Seth some manners. Or Fatima. She’d probably say something cutting.

“Sorry, Rex or Seth or whatever you name is. But there’s no way I’m wearing color.”

And just when I think I’ve lost, like I’ve totally failed my mission tonight and am going to have to walk back to the party in shame, Seth reaches into a saddlebag and pulls out a white helmet. “Try this one.”

That’s when I realize I haven’t lost. But it’s also when I realize my target is a lot cagier than I knew.

When I put on the white helmet, it’s a perfect fit.

So that’s how it happens. I’m on a motorcycle behind a Virus zooming through the night at top speed, my arms holding on to the guy for dear life. And Seth’s jacket isn’t scratchy like his dad’s; it’s smooth and tight, like him.

Adrenaline rushes through my brain, flooding out lucid thought. I fight to remind myself of my mission. But it’s difficult because this is the first time I’ve ever really been outside. There’s no car, no lead, and no security force protecting me. It’s simply me, Seth, and the night. The freedom terrifies me, and I grip Seth tighter.

Occasionally Seth stops, when we come to a red light or an intersection, and people snap my picture. Am I a real Vestal or a copycat in white? They scan me to find out and shake their hands when their finger-chips register nothing. I have no virtual profile to bounce back.

Hopefully most people can’t tell which Vestal I am under this helmet. But the possibility makes me quiver.

Sometimes the other drivers don’t see us at all. They’re driving away and finger-chipping at the same time. Seth swerves more than once so we don’t get hit by idiots.

When Seth rolls to a stop at the top of a canyon, every square inch of my skin tingles with excitement. He takes off his helmet, so I pull off mine too. Nobody can see us up here. There aren’t any eyes watching, only a cozy bench to sit on, under an ancient oak tree.

Seth helps me off the bike. “So you and my dad … ”

“Yes.” I take a steadying breath, and my chest heaves against the boning of my corset.

“He’s a real douchebag.”

“No. He’s not.”

Seth snorts and loosens his tie. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course I do.”

I sit down on the bench, and Seth joins me two seconds later. Warmth radiates between our touching legs.

“Isn’t my dad, like, thirty-five years older than you?”

“So what?”

“So what?” Seth scratches his jaw. “Doesn’t that creep you out?”

“Oh wait. You think —”

But before I can finish my sentence, Seth types the air. He pulls up Veritas Rex, and then I see the video.

There’s Calum McNeal and a redheaded woman in bed. There are twisted sheets and nakedness everywhere. Seventeen-year-old Seth walks in on them, shooting video from his hand.

“What the hell are you doing, Dad?” teenage Seth yells.

The redhead turns away. You can’t see her face because she tugs up the sheet. Cal looks guilty. Sweaty.

“Son?” he starts to say. “It’s not what it—”

But then the video cuts out, and you never hear what Cal says next.

“I did not want to see that,” I say, with all sincerity.

Seth shakes his fist, and the image disappears. “That was a week before my