streak of bright light to fall over Donnie’s face, and I gasped and rushed forward. “Holy shit. What the fuck happened?”
His left eye was black and blue, and there were scrapes on his chin. He glanced over my shoulder and swallowed audibly, then gave a hollow chuckle. “Football is a contact sport. Shit happens.” He pulled me into a hug. “But thanks for the concern.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, stepped back, and eyed them all. They were acting shifty as fuck. And they hadn’t played a game last night, so that made no sense. Was I seeing shit, or were the others sporting bruises and scrapes too? Maybe it was just the masks and makeup, the uneven light of the fire deceiving me.
Before I could pull my phone out and turn on the flashlight to check either way, Will pushed off the front of his car and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Hey, D. Wanna go somewhere quiet?”
He smirked and pulled me in close. His eyes weren’t glassy, and he wasn’t swaying. Will was stone-cold sober at a party. Something was definitely up.
“Not tonight.” I pushed at his shoulders, and he let go, but then he grabbed my hand and tried to turn me around.
“OK, cool. Then let’s go get a drink and find the girls.”
“No.” I wrenched my hand out of his. “Will, what the fuck . . .”
“Everything OK here?” Suddenly Hendrix was there, his mask sitting on top of his head and his dark eyes taking everything in. Why was he everywhere? And why was no one telling me the truth?
A motherfucking werewolf jumped out from between the parked cars, growling and raising its paws in the air. Some of the guys jumped in surprise while the others laughed nervously at the performer.
“Not now, asshole!” I screamed, and the guy in the suit gave me a hairy middle finger and stalked back into the shadows.
I turned on Hendrix. “Everything is fine, Hendrix! Mind your own business.” Then I turned on Will. “No, I don’t want to get a drink or go find a quiet place with you, William.” I looked around at the crowd of idiots from my school. “You’re all about as subtle as a sledgehammer. I don’t know what this shit is about, but I don’t like it, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”
With that, I turned on my heel and stomped back toward the crowd and the fire and the music . . . and yet another thing I had to manage.
I came to a stop at the edge of the dance floor and looked up to the pitch-black sky, begging whatever deity was listening for strength.
Amaya and Harlow were still dancing lasciviously, but now they were also making out. It was nothing new—they kissed from time to time at parties and shit. Amaya liked to tease the boys, and Harlow liked to subvert people’s assumptions about her. It was just a bit of fun, but there were a lot of people here we didn’t know, and they were both high, and the college guys were dancing a little too close. I didn’t want them to do anything they’d regret . . . or worse.
I caught Turner as he came past with a couple of beers. “Hey, can you get Mena home? I need to take care of this . . .” I gestured to the dance floor. Amaya was now shirtless, nothing but a delicate, lacy bralette covering her perky B cups.
“Yeah, I’ll take her home. We have a designated . . . whoa . . . okay . . .” His eyebrows rose as he stared.
“Hey!” I snapped my fingers in front of his face and shoved him. “Go find your girlfriend.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes. Yup. Good idea.”
“Shit,” I muttered as he moved away. I had no idea how I was going to get two trashed people into the car.
Once again, Hendrix appeared uninvited at my side, popping an obnoxiously loud bubble with his gum. “I’ll get the little one. You get the naked one.”
I glared at him for a moment. He was sticking his nose in my business again. But Turner was busy with Mena, and they were both kind of drunk, and the football guys were pissing me off . . . I really didn’t have any other choice.
“Fine.” I barreled through the crowd, which looked as if it was about to turn into an orgy any second now. More people had started