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It must be ’70s night because Olivia Newton-John comes on, and I just realized that every song has been old.
Aro shoots me a look, and I shrug. “Let’s just go with it.”
We laugh, and I’m a little baffled we all know the words. The chorus kicks off, we bob our heads, dancing as we roll, and I let my shirt slip down my arms. I don’t drop it, though. My hair flies behind me, sweat coats my neck, and we all tip our heads back, belting out the lyrics.
But when I open my eyes, I see a black T-shirt lingering in the background of my line of sight. I almost freeze as we cruise past, and then he’s gone, and I can’t see him.
Swallowing my heart back down my throat, I keep going, but he’s all I feel now. Rolling my head back and forth, I sing with Quinn and Aro, my hair tickling the parts of my back that are bare in my tank top and feeling his eyes on my every move.
I tip my head back, running my fingers through my hair, and when I bring it level again, I lock eyes with him.
Hunter stands just inside the steel doors, leaning slightly on the frame with his hands in his pockets, and my lungs empty at just the sight of him.
I think if he asked me for a sleepover, I’d go right now.
His hair sits messily across both sides of his head, never coiffed like Kade, because he’s like his mom and doesn’t like attention. If he didn’t look so much like Madoc, I’d wonder if he’d gotten any of his dad’s genes.
My stomach sinks, nerves setting in. He’s so unpredictable anymore, and I’m scared he’ll leave.Why am I afraid? Let him go.
I pull Aro and Quinn’s arms, smiling again, but just then, everything goes dark.
Screams slide through the air, and I halt in my skates, trying to avoid a collision. Big mistake. Someone crashes into my back, and before I know it, we’re all on the floor. Grunts and cries go off, others yelling, and I can’t help but laugh. I dig in my pocket for my phone to bring up the flashlight, but fingers clutch my arms, hauling me off the ground.
“Ow,” I say. It feels like more than one person grabbing me.
“They’re here!” a voice growls. “We have to hide!”
That’s not Quinn or Aro’s voice.
They grab my hand, and I stumble in my skates, looking around me. I can’t see anything.
“What?” I blurt out, struggling to keep up as I slide my phone back into my pocket. “Who?”
“The Pirates!”
They rush me outside, and I call out behind me. “Aro! Quinn!”
I’m shoved against a car, my wrists pinned behind my back, and I fight as I try to blow the hair from my eyes.
“Guys, what the hell?” I bark.
In seconds, my wrists are tied behind my back, tape is over my mouth, and a blindfold covers my eyes.
Is this a game? It has to be.
They shove me in a car, my legs getting pushed out of the way as someone sits down next to me and starts tying my laces together. I pull against the bindings behind my back, but I’m not going to give them the satisfaction of having a tantrum. They’re probably filming this.
Plus, I’m still wearing my skates. I won’t get far if I try to escape.
The car takes off, music blasting so loud it hurts my ears, and I work myself into a sitting position. Who has me? Rebels? Pirates?
We drive for a minute, then two, as the wind sweeps through an open window, blowing my hair.
But when the song breaks, I hear something.
Tapping.
I listen.
