Now That I've Found You - Kristina Forest Page 0,51
to blend in, find James, ask about Gigi, and then get out of there.
I finish the look with my bob wig and sunglasses and take a car to the venue. I’m not surprised there’s a line outside. Paparazzi are snapping pictures of the celebrities who skip the line and walk right through the door.
Milo is already standing in line, and he waves when he sees me coming. He’s wearing a denim jacket, a striped white button-up, black jeans with rips in the knees, and classic black Vans.
“Hi,” I say.
He takes in my whole look, and then he smiles. “You look really nice.”
“Thank you. So do you.”
He blinks. “You mean you’re not going to make me go home and change this time?”
“Of course not,” I say, surprised. I feel prickly all over with guilt. “Your suit wasn’t that bad, really. It just wasn’t appropriate for the setting. I’m sorry if I offended you.”
He laughs. “I was only joking, Evie. But thanks for two compliments in a row.” He gives my shoulder a friendly little pat and removes his hand before I can react.
“And here I thought you didn’t like to lie,” I say.
“Jokes and lies aren’t the same thing.”
“Mm-hmm,” I hum. I turn away to pull out my invitation and so I can stop looking at his smile. As we inch closer to the door, I prepare myself to smoothly explain that Milo is my plus-one, but it turns out I won’t have to do any explaining at all.
“Adrian?” Milo says, looking up at the bouncer, who is apparently employed by every nightclub between Manhattan and Brooklyn. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m working,” Adrian says. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“We’re here for the party.” Milo points at the door, and Adrian quirks an eyebrow.
“How did you score an invitation?” he asks.
Milo, who clearly wants to give Honest Abe a run for his money, just stands there and gulps.
“We know people,” I say, stepping forward and showing my invitation.
Adrian looks at me carefully with his huge brown eyes. “Oh, look, it’s the girl from last night.”
“I told you I wasn’t lying about knowing Milo,” I say triumphantly.
“Uh-huh.” He squints at the invitation like he thinks it’s fake. “Who do you know?”
I blink. “What?”
“You said you know people. What people do you know?”
I bet I could name at least fifteen people who are inside this establishment right now, but none of them would recognize me looking like this. And I doubt that any of them would come to my aid.
“I don’t see why that’s important,” I say, crossing my arms, trying my best not to pout like a little kid. “You have our invitation. Now can you please let us inside?”
He stamps a little green alien on the backs of our hands. “Go ahead, but let me remind you, no alcohol. If I find out you were drinking—”
“You’ll pull us out yourself,” Milo finishes. “We know, bro. Thanks.”
It’s clear once we’re inside that Adrian didn’t spout his no-drinking rule to every person who looks under twenty-one. Two guys, who are already drunk, amble in our direction, and when one trips, Milo grabs my hand and pulls me out of the way. As we continue on, the crowd gets thicker, so I don’t let go. My sunglasses make everything darker, but I don’t dare take them off. The music is crazy loud, and the bass vibrates so hard it’s throwing off my equilibrium.
There are people in alien costumes, taking pictures with guests, and they look cartoonishly evil. On principle, I’ve never actually seen any of the Aliens Attack Earth movies, but I hear they’re entertaining. Tonight, the aliens are like little specks in a sea of partygoers. Too many people in one place. That was always my least favorite part about going out, but Simone never minded it so much.
When I think about it—and trust me, I’ve had plenty of time to think about it—I realize Simone only wanted to be my friend because she thought it would give her some kind of connection. The first time we met, I was sitting at the lunch table alone. It was the second day of freshman year. The majority of my classmates had already decided I’d been given enough handouts and that I didn’t need their friendship too. But Simone sat down right across from me.
“Hey, I’m Simone,” she said, tossing her long braids over her shoulder. “What’s your concentration?”
“Acting,” I said, relieved to have someone to talk to. “I’m Evie.”