"A party…" he repeats, his voice slow and measured, each syllable deliberate. "I'm intrigued."
"It's not what you think.. it's not really a party… Well, it is actually…" I wrap another section of hair around the barrel. "Remember Colleen's niece? The one who's missing?"
"Claudia. Yeah."
"We think her boyfriend knows something. Dylan. There's a party tonight, and Colleen needs me to get his phone so my tech guy can clone it." The words tumble out in a rush. "I know it sounds crazy—"
"It sounds dangerous."
"I know." I set the curling iron down, gripping the edge of the vanity. "But she's desperate, Julian. The police don't care. No one's looking for Claudia except Colleen, and she can't do this herself.”
He exhales, long and slow. "You're a good person, you know that?"
My throat tightens. "I don't feel like one."
"You are." His voice softens. "Just—be careful, okay? Keep your phone with you. Text me every half hour so I know you're safe."
"I will."
"And don't drink anything. Seriously. Not even if it looks sealed. You don't know what people put in drinks at parties like that."
A smile tugs at my lips despite everything. "You're worried about me."
"Of course I'm worried about you." His voice carries that gentle warmth I've come to recognize, the kind that wraps around me like a soft blanket. "You're everything to me."
His words shock me, thrill me. I'm left speechless. He means everything to me, too.
His concern is nothing like the suffocating worry Daniel had for me. Not the controlling, possessive kind that made me feel small. This is different. This is caring and love, pure and simple.
"I'll be fine," I tell him. "In and out. Fifteen minutes, tops."
"Call me when you're done?"
"Promise."
I hang up, staring at my reflection one more time.
Then I grab my jacket and head out the door.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The bass throbs through the floorboards, rattling my teeth. I’ve slipped through the front door—wide open, propped with a dirty sneaker—and nobody even glances my way. A girl in a bikini top stumbles past, laughing too loudly, drink sloshing over the rim of her red Solo cup. Someone's broken a lamp. Glass glitters on the hardwood floor like scattered diamonds.
I press against the wall, taking it all in. Bodies everywhere. Dancing, grinding, shouting over the music. The air reeks of beer and something sickly sweet—vanilla vodka, maybe. A couple makes out in the corner by the stairs, his hands roaming places that make me look away fast.
My heart hammers against my ribs. Can't breathe. Can't think. The music pounds in my skull and my heels pinch my toes, and these jeans suddenly feel three sizes too small, cutting into my waist, making me want to rip them off and run.
Nobody here knows me. Nobody cares. But I feel exposed, like a spotlight's following me around, broadcastingtwenty-six-year-old woman crashes teen party.
I weave through the crowd toward the kitchen, following the scent of stale beer. A metal keg sits in a plastic tub of melted ice,surrounded by abandoned cups and crushed cans. I grab a cup from the stack, fill it halfway. Not drinking it. Just need to look normal. Blend in.
A lanky boy with shaggy blond hair sidles up next to me, grinning. "Never seen you before."
"First time." I force a smile, scanning the room over his shoulder. No sign of Dylan yet.
"Cool, cool. I'm Tyler. What's your name?"
"Sophia."
