Page 30 of The Art of Kissing


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His particular choice of words sends a chill down my spine, but I play it cool. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m out of here.” With that, I turn to leave.

“I know who you are,” he calls out after me.

I freeze, tension rolling through my body as I glance back at him.

“That’s not a threat,” he quickly adds, stepping toward me, his shoes scuffing against the floor. “I want to help you get some answers, Raven. But I need you to trust me.”

“I don’t even know you,” I point out, but part of me questions if I do.

He presses back a smile. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah?” My doubt shows this time, ringing in my tone.

He peers around, nervousness suddenly flickering across his features.

What in the crap is he nervous about all of a sudden? No one’s around except for a couple of really old drunk dudes.

He steps closer to me. “Has someone been in contact with you about your past?”

Wait … How did he know?

Unless he’s the one doing it?

I don’t answer, smashing my lips together.

“Your hesitancy is understandable,” he says. “And, while I want to help you get some answers, I can’t right now. However, if you want to find out more, then you can go here. Just don’t tell your guys.” He reaches out toward me.

I step back so quickly I end up bumping into a wall. Well, I think it’s a wall until a deep voice says from behind me, “Watch it.”

I turn around and find a ginormous man with an irritated expression looking at me.

“Sorry,” I mutter to the guy then turn back around, only to find the guy in the hoodie gone.

I peer around, trying to figure out where he went. The bathrooms? No, probably the exit door that’s at the end of the hallway.

Deciding he’s probably just someone messing with me, or perhaps he’s connected to the bridge incident, I decide to just leave. But, as I’m turning around, I spot a card on the dirty floor and bend down to pick it up.

On it is a phone number, and address in a town called Sunnyvale, and the name of a club?

“The Forgotten Club?” I mumble. What the hell is this?

Better yet, why do I feel so compelled to keep it?

Whatever the reason, I pocket the card then leave the hallway with more questions than I had before.

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