“What makes her special?”

“She’s hot. Like fucking amazing.”

“There’s a plethora of those around.” I wave my hand at the darkened room.

He laughs. “Who says words like ‘plethora’?”

“Smart girls.”

“This girl…she’s smart. Smarter than me. She’ll be somebody cool someday.”

“Good. You should lock that down.”

His eyes flicker with a penetrating look as he reaches out and touches the corner of my mask. I stand immobile, letting him trace the outline. “Thought about it. Wasn’t worth the pain.”

Wasn’t worth the pain.

He drops his hand when Penelope shows back up, looking harried. She comes to a halt in front of me, does a double take at Blaze, then leans over and whispers, “Came out of the restroom with Margo waving at me. She’s cornered. Theta inquisition time. You good if I dash over and help then come right back?” Her eyes sweep from me to him. “I can’t leave her. You know how she mouths off when it comes to them, and we don’t need a war with these girls.”

I send her a pleading look—to not leave me or leave me, I don’t know—then she pivots and quick-steps it away from us.

“She ran off fast. She seemed super familiar too,” he muses, smiling.

“She’s a freshman. I doubt you know her. She doesn’t get out much. Neither of us do.”

“Ah, I see. You gonna leave too?” he says.

“No.”

He mulls that over. “Thought you might.”

“Well, I’m not.”

It feels as if our words are layered with more meaning, but I brush them off.

The DJ switches to a faster song and a strobe light kicks around the space, flashing over his face before bouncing off. It’s a funhouse on steroids, and the buzz from the tequila warms my blood.

People squeeze by us, and he maneuvers closer to me, pressing a hand on the wall behind me to keep a few inches between us. Shit.

He stares down at me, and I avoid his gaze.

“Man, this place is nuts,” he murmurs in my ear. “It’s better upstairs. You want to go?”

I lick my lips. “What about this girl? Are you like, in love with her?”

My breath holds tight in my chest, and I don’t move a muscle as we stare at each other.

“I don’t know what love is, actually.” He tucks his hands in his pockets, straightening and pulling away. “Do you?”

“I think it’s when you can’t think of a person without aching to see them.”

“I see.”

I nod. “The person you love can hurt you, though. You have to be careful.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be careful anymore. Sometimes you just have to let go, right?”

“Maybe.”

He leans in closer, and my body trembles.

He looks down at me and whispers in my ear, his lips barely touching the top. “I don’t want to be careful tonight, babe. Are you with me?”

Several seconds pass as neither of us speaks.

I should walk away. I really, really should.

He gestures to the drink I’m holding at my side. “You gonna drink that or just stare down at it all night?”

“Why do you care?” I laugh, looking up at him, my mind circling back to his comment about love.

He doesn’t know what it is.

How is that possible? Hasn’t he ever been in love? He wasn’t with me, but surely at some point…

He touches a piece of my hair from my ponytail. “I want to dance. Finish it. Let’s see how good a dancer you are, freshman.”

I drink it down. “I have skills that will blow your mind.”

“Oh, I bet you do. ” He takes the cup from me, his fingers touching mine, and puts it on the floor next to my feet along with his own.

The music changes to a slower one, “I Hate U, I Love U” by Gnash, the lyrics low and sad, a dichotomy of opposing emotions mixed together.

Frowning, I pull back. “No. Maybe another song.”

“This one,” he insists. “I like it. It reminds me of someone…” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to think about her. Come on.”

But…

I’ve listened to this song on repeat for hours, and I…can’t. I cried my eyes out over the lyrics in my bed. I don’t want to go back to three months ago.

But there’s a determined set to his face, and when he says come on again in a teasing way and gives me that smile I can’t resist, I take his hand. He leads me out to the dance floor, his broad shoulders maneuvering through the crowd. He places us in the center of the room.

We don’t move for a second, both of us unsure. There’s a hesitant look in his eyes as he watches me, a reserve, as if he’s not certain what to do next, and for a second I think he’s changed his mind and might walk away.

He doesn’t. His arms curl around my waist slowly, slowly as he takes his time, savoring every slide of his hands as he palms the curve of my hips then moves them to rest at the top of my ass. He inches me forward in my heels, pulling us close. Butterflies flutter when his gaze warms, a slow, almost knowing smile on his lips until we’re aligned, our legs brushing.

I start slow, my hands on his chest, trying to keep a small bit of distance between us, but I’m into it. The speakers blare, the lyrics and piano from the song throbbing in the air. It wraps around us, settling inside me, beating. My hands curl up around his neck.

We’ve danced before, but this is different. New.

He doesn’t know me.

We have no past.

Who would he be with a new girl?

How would he woo her?

His head dips and his breath skates across the skin exposed on my neck. “You smell fucking good,” he whispers. I barely hear him over the music, but I can’t hide my shudder when his nose glides up toward my ear.

He leans back to stare at me, and even though it’s dark out here, I see his eyes glow, low and heavy, a question there.

I press my nose to his chest.

“Shy?” he says. “I can’t imagine it.”

“Sometimes,” I murmur back in his ear, my hand brushing at the hair there.

His finger tilts my head up. “Me too.”

I didn’t know that.

“It’s hard for me to say how I feel sometimes,” he adds.

“Well, you seem to be doing great right now.”

“It’s the mask. I can pretend.”

Swallowing, I take in his angular face, the way his eyes glint—his lips. They’re pouty and full, like two fluffy pillows, and I can’t stop studying the way they curve.

“You feel like heaven,” he says on a little groan, and his hands are lower, splaying out across my ass.

“Same,” I reply breathlessly, melting into his body.

God, I’ve missed this. The feel of him under me, the way his hands know just how to hold me and make me feel safe…

We’re swaying, and I feel light.

The song ends, blending into a faster one, but neither of us lets go. Bodies gyrate and twirl nearby, bumping into us. We don’t waver an inch. He shields me, his muscular frame our protection as he wards off random people who veer too close. Nothing could get between us. His hips brush against me, friction sweet and sharp between my legs.

The bass from the speakers booms underneath my skin, as if it’s in tune with the rush of blood that’s coming from my heart. My fingers dig into his shoulders. I can get lost in this for a little—

“Mmmm,” he says, and his thigh moves and slips between my legs. I close my eyes and clutch his nape. “Take your mask off and tell me your name, little freshman,” he murmurs.

My head rises and our eyes lock.

“This is a masquerade—no.”

His tongue darts out and he licks that bottom lip, painstakingly slow. “Chicken.”

“Am not.” I take a breath, knowing I shouldn’t be doing this, but I say it anyway. “Everything else is yours.”

He pauses, his head down and close to mine. “Everything?” Wariness crosses his face, a ghost of pain flashing before disappearing.

I nod.

He slips his hand around to my ponytail and pulls until my hair spills out and flows down my back. His hand slips underneath and palms my scalp. He kisses the sensitive area below my ear, his tongue stroking the surface. “Is this mine?”

“Yes,” I gasp.

He sucks on my skin, and I hold his head, pressing him closer. His thigh slips between my legs again, seesawing back and forth.

We’re not dancing anymore, and maybe we haven’t been for a while, but it’s dark and no one is noticing. A couple next to us kisses, their hands roaming over each other. A quick glance tells me everyone is either lost in their partner, the music, or the free alcohol.

“This?” His hand massages my ass then moves up my body, his palm following my curves. He presses me against his cock through his jeans.

“Yes,” I mumble, my senses are overloaded with his touch.

“This?” He brushes his thumb against my vest where my piercing is.

“Yes,” I hiss.

He leans down to place a kiss on my neck, his lips taking and taking, sucking, getting harder, probably leaving a mark. I lean into it, writhing, clenching around his leg.

My lips part, a tidal wave of sensation pooling, drenching my panties. Music and people surround us, and I can’t tell where I am anymore.

“I’m gonna make you forget you ever had a name,” he says, staring down at me.

“Try.”