Bonfire might have been the wrong word for what I had walked into. Even calling it a party didn't feel adequate enough.
The backyard was large—or at least larger than I'd expected for the size of the home. Along the patio sat one small, pathetic bundle of logs, remnants of smoke lifting through the cracks of wood, ebbing and long-forgotten. And as far the rest of the yard . . .
Music blared in every direction from speakers I couldn't see—couldn't see because of the several bodies crowded along the fences, on the dance floor, and every space in between. I recognized a few of the faces from class and some just from passing in the halls at school. And the team—yes, that was the baseball team huddled like royalty in their own corner of the yard, lounged across stone benches accented with pillows, while throngs of girls danced around their circle, as if waiting to be picked by one of them. I didn't see Hannah among them. Or Dez.
As I walked further into the yard, the heavy beat of the music thrummed against my chest. Along the dance floor, bodies writhed together in slick, sweaty movements. Red solo cups rested in almost every single person's hand, some carelessly strewn across the ground—the smell of cheap beer impossible to ignore. And the sight of it all, the sounds, the smells . . . it was too much, too familiar. I needed to leave. I needed to—
"Did you show up just to piss me off?" His voice came from behind me, rough and annoyed. But the sound of it . . . it did something to make me forget about everything else, even if just for a moment.
I faced him carefully, making sure to keep my expression neutral. Unfazed. It was something I'd promised myself before walking in, that if I saw him I would not give him any reactions. Not when he seemed to enjoy them so much.
So I merely lifted a brow as I took in Dez, who somehow managed to make jeans and a plain blue tee look like they were worth a million dollars. Even with that frown weighing on his lips.
"Not everything is about you." I shrugged.
He only stared in silence, his face hardening.
I said tightly, "Let's not do this, okay? Not here. I'll make sure to stay out of your way, and you can stay out of mine." I went to move past him, but he caught my arm, his calloused hand scraping lightly against my skin—not in a way that hurt but in a way that left my skin tingling in its wake.
His gaze fell to where his hand and my arm met, as if he'd felt it, too. And he didn't let go as he looked back up at me and said softly, "You have to go."
I assessed his stare, the harsh line of his mouth, the tightness in those eyes. And there—that was guilt there again. And worry. Was he afraid I'd come in here and make a scene? Did he think I'd stoop so low as to bring our drama to a party?
I didn't bother to ask him why. I didn't need his excuses or explanations.
"No."
Those amber eyes narrowed just slightly."No?"
"No," I repeated, forcing my face into passive indifference. "I'm not leaving. Not for your sake."
He let go of my arm as if I'd burned him.
"We haven't even known each other for a full week, and yet—" He paused, shaking his head as if the second half of that sentence might make him burst altogether, his mouth twisting in a bitter smile. "I think you might just be the death of me, Peacock."
It felt like an insult.
"Lyra!" I twisted around to find a head of fiery-red curls bouncing towards me. "You made it!"
Hannah ran up to me and enveloped me in a hug before stepping back and sticking her hand out, not for me—but for Dez, who was still standing behind me.
"You must be Dez. I recognize you from the bookstore. I've heard a lot about you!"
He took her hand, though his smug gaze darted to me.
"Lewis told me you're on the team with him," Hannah went on. Dez's face fell just slightly, but he smiled at Hannah as he said, "Yeah, I am—and I've heard a lot about you, too." The most civilized I'd seen him all week.
"You have?" Hannah's answering grin was dazzling. But she didn't get to ask what, exactly, Dez had heard before Lewis approached from behind her, his arm sliding around her waist easily. And the way he looked at her—it was so different than the few times I'd seen him at school, always silent, always brooding and unsure. The difference the week made for them . . . I could see Hannah glowing just a bit brighter, too.
"Hey, Lyra. It's nice to finally meet you." Lewis's grin went a little too wide as he looked between me and Dez, as if he knew the exact conversation we were having before they got there. "I'll just apologize now for my however my friend here acts tonight. Someone's been a bit cranky since—"
"Shut it, Lew." Dez clenched his fists.
Lewis's smile didn't falter as he stepped towards his best friend and threw an arm around his shoulder. "Come on, Warren. Why don't you and I fetch these ladies something to drink?"
"Ooh, yes please!" Hannah squealed as I said, "No thanks."
The boys exchanged confused glances; only Hannah didn't seem to be surprised. I shook my head as I said to them, "I won't be drinking any alcohol tonight."
"But I'll have a beer." Hannah pressed a swift kiss to Lewis's cheek. "Thanks, handsome."
Lewis blushed and started to turn towards the house, but not before I added, "Lewis? Make sure the bottle's sealed when you bring it to Han, okay?"
He furrowed his brows—but he nodded as he turned and went inside. I expected Dez to go with him but he instead pulled me aside, away from Hannah, and said, "I'll get you a bottled water. Don't move until I get back, just stay here."
With that, he followed Lewis into the house. When I turned around, Hannah—sweet, wild, cheery Hannah—was glaring. At me.
"What was that about?" She crossed her arms.
"What?"
"Sealed? Lyra, you just implied that Lewis is the kind of person who would spike a drink! He's a nice guy! Why would you say that to him?"
"Oh—oh." My stomach fell. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just—he could be walking by and anyone could drop something in it. I didn't realize . . . " I bit my lip. "I'm sorry, Han. I didn't mean to offend him. Or you."
Hannah stared at me for a moment before she sighed and shook her head, linking her arm through mine. "I love you, Lyra, but you seriously need to loosen up. It's a party! We're supposed to have this thing called fun."
Right.
"Speaking of fun," I mused, "You and Lewis look pretty smitten."
And at the mention of his name, Hannah seemed to melt right on the spot, her green eyes glazing, cheeks blooming. "I know its only been a few days, but Lyra, he's so . . . god, I don't there's even a word for it."
"Words are pretty hard, huh?" I teased.
"He took me out for a late dinner on Wednesday night because he told me he couldn't wait until Friday to see me, and it turned out we had so much in common. I felt like it wasn't even real. At first I thought he was faking it—sort of like how guys agree with everything you say just to please you, you know? But then I started asking him questions about himself, and when he answered, I realized that he was being genuine and he was . . . he was just . . . just . . . "
"Words." I grinned, repeating my earlier sentiment. Hannah laughed, and my chest warmed—her happiness was infectious.
I reminded myself to apologize to Lewis when I saw him.
"Yesterday I told him I couldn't hang out because I worked from 4 until close," Hannah said, "and you know how dead weeknights get at Crooked Shelves."
I nodded and she went on, "So we were texting for a majority of the time, at least until he had to go to practice. Then afterwards he asked me how work was going and I told him I was bored—and that I couldn't wait to see him again. An hour later, he comes by and surprises me with chocolate and just stays with me at the bookstore until the very end of my shift. I knew how tired he was after practice, but he didn't care. He just kept asking me questions about myself while I stocked or ran titles and . . . he just really tried to get to know me. And even when I thought there would be nothing left for us to talk about, somehow, there always was. And oh god—now my cheeks are hurting from smiling so much."
I laughed as she rubbed at her jaw, trying and failing to erase her smile.
"I'm so happy for you, Han." I squeezed her hand gently. "Really."
Because I knew she was a hopeless romantic. And I knew that for all her flirtation and for all her talk about having fun with guys . . . a mask—to hide the girl who read more Jane Austen and Nicholas Sparks novels than anyone I'd ever known.
"Well, that's enough about me." She lifted a brow, aiming it at me. "What about you and Dez? Is something going on with that?"
I snorted. "If by something you mean a who-can-annoy-the-shit-out-of-the-other-person-more kind of something, then—"
"Hi."
Hannah and I paused from our conversation to look up at the boy suddenly standing in front of us. He wore a baseball cap backwards, wisps of his blonde hair sticking out from the sides. For some reason, he reminded me of a golden retriever—the too-innocent face, the wide brown eyes and slanted brows.
Hannah nudged me forward but said not so subtly, "And who are you?"
"I'm Adam." He nodded towards me, smiling. "You're Lyra, aren't you?"
Then he looked at Hannah almost as an afterthought and added, "And you're with Lewis. Hannah, right?"
Hannah nodded eagerly, as if the mere sound of Lewis's name next to hers was ripe music to her ears. "Actually, I think I'm gonna go off and find him. Do you know where the drinks are?"
"In the kitchen, to your left." Adam pointed through the back patio door.
"Thanks! I'll catch you two later." Hannah turned and winked at me as she whispered, also not so subtly, "He's cute!" And then she walked off before I could protest. I watched her disappear through the doors and tried not to sigh before I turned around and faced Adam alone.
"So Lyra, how do you like being at Lincoln Valley?" Adam smiled, and he seemed genuine enough that I relaxed just a fraction.
"It's not bad . . . "
"Do I hear a but coming on?"
I gave him a half-smile. "It's a way bigger school than I expected, like a mini-college or something. It's a little overwhelming sometimes."
"I feel that. Have you ever been to one of the baseball games? They get crazy packed."
"No. Are you on the team?"
He nodded and gestured towards the crowd around us. "Most of the guys here are. Big school, big team."
I looked around and realized he was right. I recognized more of the faces from the team photos hanging on the walls of the school.
"I don't mean to be forward, but do you have a boyfriend?"
My shoulders tensed. I wanted to tell him he couldn't really get any more forward than that. But I held my tongue and answered honestly, "No, I don't."
"Cool." Adam beamed, his wide eyes sweeping over me. I tried not to recoil from his nervous gaze as he stepped forward slowly and asked, "Is it alright if I kiss you?"
If I had a drink, I might have choked on it.
"Adam . . . we just met." I searched for the right words—and found none. "Ten seconds ago."
"Is that a no?"
I narrowed my eyes. Was this a joke?
But there was no humor behind those puppy-like eyes.
"Yes, Adam—that's a no."
He sighed, drawing back and rubbing his neck. "Yeah, I knew my chances with someone like you weren't that great anyway. Figured I'd at least give it a shot." His shoulders slumped and he walked away without so much as glancing back.
I stared after him. Blinking once. Twice. Feeling like I'd somehow stepped into an alternate reality—it wasn't normal for guys to do things like that, was it?
A low laugh behind me sounded. "Adam's a bit of a character."
I nodded, still half-stunned at what just happened, and then turned around to meet another unfamiliar face.
"You can't really blame the guy for trying." The guy shrugged, his curly black hair falling across his dark eyes. He held his hand out. "I'm Jonathan. My boys call me Jonny."
I placed my hand in his only briefly, and then I said, "Let me guess, you're on the team too?"
He chuckled and lifted a shoulder as if to say, yeah, but it's no big deal.
"Who'd you come here with?" he asked.
"My friend, Hannah." Who had successfully ditched me in my first two minutes here. I wondered if she'd found Lewis yet, and then I wondered if Dez was still planning to come back. Maybe he'd decided he was better off without my presence and had found someone else to torment for the night.
"I love this song." Jonny swayed towards me, a little off balance. That's when I noted the slight red glaze in his eyes, the near-empty drink in his hand. "You wanna dance?" His hand slipped around my waist before I could answer and he leaned in close—way too close for my liking. I moved back out of his reach.
"No, thanks. I'm going to go find my friend now."
"Sure, sure." He smiled, unbothered. "Maybe I'll see you later?"
I just pressed my lips together, giving him a non-committal answer as I walked off.
It happened two more times after that. Once more in the yard and again when I went inside the house. Two other boys, both from the team, approached me—both spending little time bothering to make conversation before they stepped close and got just a bit too handsy. I didn't know if it was the alcohol making them brave or if the boys from this town were just piss-poor with restraint.
By the time the next boy I approached, I didn't bother to glance at him before I walked away. I needed to find Hannah so I could tell her that I was going to leave. I hadn't seen any of them—Hannah, Lewis, or Dez—since we'd first spoken outside. So I went upstairs and searched every room, only to walk into a couple making out in the bathroom and to another group smoking weed in the master bedroom. Downstairs, I swept the halls again until I walked past a door I didn't realize I'd missed earlier.
I opened the door and turned on the lights to find an empty bathroom, but I decided to savor the privacy for a moment and shut the door behind me anyway. I took a deep breath as I checked my reflection in the mirror, wondering what the hell was so different about tonight. I looked the same as I usually did, if not worse, tired. My hair was flat and my make-up smudged from the heat of running around the house. Even my clothes were plain, bordering on boring—a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a simple long sleeve.
As I walked out of the bathroom, I bumped into another figure who appeared to be on his way in. I looked up—and this time, I recognized who it was. For once, it wasn't someone from the baseball team but just another person from school. Evan Hamilton.
I only knew him because we had a few classes together, but before he opened his mouth, I already found myself stepping a step back—into the bathroom. He reeked of alcohol and his gaze was glassy, unfocused. Blood-shot.
"Hey, beautiful." Even his smile was distorted, wrong.
"Excuse me." I tried to shove past him, but he held out an arm against the door, blocking my path. He was big, not exactly muscular—but bulky, as if all his muscle was hidden beneath a mild layer of fat.
"Evan, please move."
"Not until you kiss me."
I paused, cocking my head to the side, not entirely surprised by his request—and did something that surprised even me.
I laughed.
As in gut-wrenching, tear-jerking, couldn't-get-any-air-in-my-lungs laughter.
Evan scowled in response.
"Are you kidding me?" I said, wiping at my eyes once my hysteria died off. "What is wrong with everyone tonight?"
"Come on, don't be so mean. Just one kiss, Leee-ruhhhh." He leaned in as he said my name slowly, my name rolling off his tongue in a way that made my knuckles itch to connect with his jaw.
"No. I said move, Evan."
But he didn't. Instead he reache his hand out to grip my hip—and I pivoted just in time. He fell over, losing his already sloppy footing, and hit the wall. I took that opening to pass him and get through the door.
But not before he grabbed onto the back of my shirt and pulled me back.
"What the hell! Let go of me!" I tried to slam him back against the door but he was too big—too strong. His grip on me was like steel. Even when I kicked against him, he didn't seem to be affected, whether it was due to the numbing alcohol or the fact that he'd been built with extra layers.
Bile rose in my throat as I realized which one of us was going to win this fight.
I felt his nose at my neck, inhaling, breathing me in. "You smell even better than I imagined." One of his hands moved to my waist, pulling me back against him.
Scream. My gut told me to scream, despite the music, despite the loudness of the crowd outside. I had to try. I opened my mouth—
"You have three seconds to get your hands off her, Evan."
Evan froze.
And that voice. That cold, quiet voice—
I turned my head, and there stood Dez, his fists clenched at his sides like unholy weapons. His chest rose and fell slowly, with every forced even breath he took. And his face . . .
My breath caught in my throat.
He didn't just look pissed. No, pissed would have been an understatement.
Dez looked . . . lethal.
I felt Evan move behind me, his grip tightening around my shirt as he saw the same thing I saw. "Stay out of this, pretty boy."
Dez didn't so much as blink as he began his countdown. "Three."
Evan didn't let go.
Even I couldn't remember how to get my muscles to move.
"Two." Dez rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck.
And I could have sworn there was panic—real panic in Evan's voice as he said, "You know the rules, man. Just back off."
Dez didn't bother to finish his countdown as he stalked towards us, his golden eyes blazing. Evan dropped his grip on me and pushed me away before Dez could get another step in and backed himself against the wall, cowering behind me.
"Okay, okay, fine!" Evan held up his hands as Dez stepped in between us. He hiccuped and slurred his words as he spoke again, but not so much that I couldn't make out what he said. "This is bullshit! I could've won."
From the way the veins popped out along his neck, I was afraid Dez was going to explode on the spot. But his voice was low—heavy with rage and something far darker as he grabbed Evan by the collar and said near silently, "We're going to settle this when you're sober."
Not a threat. But a promise.
Then Dez took that collar and used it to throw Evan back out into the hall—the hall where there was now a crowd of people watching. Evan fell flat on his face, unable to balance himself. No one offered to help him back up.
And then, Dez turned to me.
His gaze darted over me, up and down and back up again, checking for any signs of injury or hurt. Flashes of anger still tore through his eyes, but not at me—no, that anger wasn't directed towards me. Even as he growled, "I told you not to move until I got back. Why did you leave?"
I didn't get to answer him before Hannah appeared, shaking—crying.
"Lyra! Oh my god, I was looking everywhere for you!" She wrapped me in a fierce hug and sobbed. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. If I'd known this was going to . . . I would have never told you to come."
By now several eyes were on us. I looked in between Hannah and Dez, unsure how to respond to what was happening, unsure what was even happening. Before I could ask, Hannah turned on Dez and Evan. Her face was red with anger, almost the same shade as her hair.
"You're sick!" she yelled at them before turning to the crowd watching."All of you!"
Everyone remained silent.
And then suddenly there was Lewis, bursting out from the fringes of the crowd as he ran towards us, his face heavy with complete shame.
"Hannah, please, let me explain—"
"YOU." She pointed a finger at him that caused him to stop dead in his tracks. "Don't you fucking call me again. Ever." And then she turned to me. "Let's get out of here, Lyra."
I let her drag me through the crowd, who parted for us as we passed. Sometime in between being in the bathroom with Evan and being led out by Hannah, my body had become numb. It no longer belonged to me—and instead became a shell of me, moving as if on autopilot.
Before we walked out the front door, I only managed a glance back to where Evan was still struggling to stand from the ground, where Lewis stood with his expression wholly shattered, and where Dez . . .
Dez was nowhere to be seen.
***
Hannah explained everything to me down the street at a nearby park while we "waited" for Ethan to pick us up. It would have been too coincidental for him to have been waiting there as soon as we walked out, so I texted him to give us fifteen minutes before he pulled up, as well as to give Hannah and I some privacy while we talked.
After she finished telling me everything, I threw up. Twice.
While she was weaving through the party looking for me, Dez, and Lewis, she passed a hall and saw some guys from the team. She figured they might have known where Lewis and Dez went and that they might have been with me, so she went to ask them. But they didn't see her approach—which was why they didn't bother to shut up as they began to talk about how the bets were going. Bets on who could get lucky with the new girl.
She stopped when she realized they'd meant me.
Their rules were simple: Anyone who landed a kiss would win fifty dollars. And for anyone who landed more . . .
I didn't want to think about it. How my body . . . how it became some sort of prize to them. How every one of their words to me tonight—Adam, Jonny, and whoever the hell else approached me—their words were laced with the intent of getting paid to . . . to touch me in that way. How Lewis and Dez had known. About all of it.
Dez, who had been sitting next to me in Chemistry for an hour every day, for the past the three days. Who, even if he hated me, even if he tried to tell me not to go and even if he'd been the one to save me from Evan . . .
He had known.
I went to bed that night and dreamt of the dragon.
But this time, when he came swooping down, he burned every inch of my skin.