Page 37 of After Midnight

And she’s so fucking beautiful. It’s hard to see, but there’s a little silver scar on her hairline, the one she told me she got when she fell off her skateboard when she was learning. I want to trail my fingers over it, to kiss—

“That your girl?”

Lucas’s voice is in my ear, one of his arms coming to rest across my shoulders.

I lock the phone screen quickly, though I’m not sure why. It’s almost like I want to keep Remi to myself, tucked away where no one can hurt her.

“I mean, she’s not my girl,” I say, sliding my cell back into my sweats pocket and shaking Lucas’s arm off before grabbing the bag of burger buns from the counter. “She’s—”

“Sebastian!” Dex yells from out on the deck. River and Nala bark, creating a raucous outburst. Dex raises his voice to say, “Where the fuck are those buns?”

I move past Lucas, but as I go, I hear him mumble, “Keep tellin’ yourself that . . .”

Later that night, after we’ve finished eating and are sitting around the firepit in the dark, I remember that I never texted Remi back. I move my beer bottle to my other hand and wiggle my cell out of my pocket. River is sitting next to me on the patio couch, and she perks her ears up and tilts her head at my movement.

I reread Remi’s message and stare down at her photo.

Guess you’ll have to come see me again.

I’d love nothing more than to see her again, but we’re in the studio this coming week, so I won’t be able to fly back to Vegas until the following week. That’ll be two weeks without seeing her, and it makes me feel a pit of loneliness, even as I’m surrounded by my favorite people.

I’m still staring down at the photo of Remi when my phone is snatched out of my hand.

“Hey!”

I look up, and Alisha has my cell in one hand. She tips her head and stares down at the screen, lips turning up in one corner. “So, this is the woman we’ve all been so curious about, hmm?” She turns the cell around, and everyone but Lucas leans forward, squinting to try to see the photo on the screen.

“Oh,” Jordan says, blinking in the firelight. “She’s pretty, Seb.”

Nora smiles but says nothing. Nala is lying next to her, head in her lap, and Nora pets her slowly.

“You never texted back.” Alisha arches a black brow at me.

“Well, I was about to.” I hold out a hand for my phone, but she doesn’t give it back.

“Let’s send her a photo, since she sent you one,” she says. “Everyone, smile.”

Alisha holds up the cell, and I barely have time to blink before she snaps a photo, the flash bright against the darkness. She looks down at it and laughs. “This is perfect. I’m sending it.”

There’s a whoosh as the text goes out, and then Alisha offers the phone to me. I pluck it from her fingers and immediately look at the photo she sent.

And it’s kind of the perfect representation of us.

Alisha’s smiling face is in the foreground, selfie style. Nora and Jordan are sitting close to each other on one couch, Nala’s eyes closed where she’s asleep with her head in Nora’s lap. Dex is in his own chair, leaning back, beer in one hand, chain around his neck glinting in the flash from the camera. Michael and Lucas sit next to each other, an acoustic guitar in Michael’s lap, Lucas’s hand held up, flipping the camera off.

And then there’s me. River and I are both staring at the camera, and we look surprised, eyes wide, caught off guard by the sudden photograph.

What will Remi think of this? A tinge of uncertainty goes through me. These people in the photo are my people, the ones I love and would do anything for. And there’s a part of me, growing louder every day, that wants Remi to be my people too. But I don’t know if that’s what she wants, and it’s still way too early to ask.

A hand falls down on my shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. When I look up, Alisha’s smiling at me.

“She seems cool,” she says softly as Michael starts to pluck at the guitar. “I’m happy for you.” Her gaze flicks to Lucas, who’s staring into the crackling fire, and her smile falters.

“Are you okay?” I ask. Alisha is usually bubbly and full of life, but she seems off tonight, not laughing and joking the way she usually does when we all get together like this.

She nods once, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah. Just tired. I had a lot of clients today.”

“Oh,” I say, though I’m not convinced. Alisha is one of the more popular personal trainers in LA, but no matter how many clients she has, she’s usually full of energy, able to run circles around all of us. Still, I don’t push it; she obviously doesn’t want to talk about it right now.