Page 52 of Elusion

A laugh chokes out. She dresses like my mother because sheknowsmy mother.

“Her least favorite one,” I reply.

Straight white teeth between symmetrical lips with a flawless application of soft pink lipstick smile at me. “I’m Terrance Newhouse. We used to play together at the country club.”

A hazy memory of hitting golf balls at a little girl with a much broader nose surfaces. “You still cry a lot?”

Her confidence falters. “What?”

“I remember you cried all the time.”

“Only when mean little boys hurt my feelings.”

“Fair warning: I’m still an asshole.”

Her hand displays a perfect manicure as she flips long, straight hair over her shoulder. “I can handle it.”

She keeps talking, but my attention travels to a girl near the entrance. Her brunette hair cascades down her back. It’s not even the right color or length for Callie, but the way her top exposes a sliver of skin above her jeans ends up enough to engage me in a best-of-Callie torture session.Jesus, I need to get a grip.

I’m half-conscious of Terrance taking over Gavin’s seat next to me and fully aware of her hand on my thigh. My feet push the stool around where two shots and a beer await me on the bar. Both shot glasses empty, and I drink my beer, already forgetting about the hand once again on my leg.

“Your mom said I should check out your band,” she says. “You guys are awesome.”

The corners of my mouth perk up. Mr. and Mrs. Raymond Waters proudly announce the awkward and unwelcome setup of their son Jordan Jensen Waters and Terrance Probably-Marie Newhouse. Sure, I’ll play.

“What kind of music do you like?”

Her hand inches higher. “Oh, I like everything.”

And game over. She fails. No one likes everything. No one.

“Well then, which do you like better—post-industrial grindcore or neoclassical dark wave?”

She tips her head to the side and nervously giggles. “What?”

“Katy Perry or Taylor Swift?”

Either she doesn’t notice my sardonic smile or doesn’t care. “Oh, Taylor, definitely.”

Uninterested in continuing a polite conversation, I return my gaze to the hair that bears a minor resemblance to Callie’s. But on the way, it sweeps over familiar red hair, and I refocus on Felicia.

Holy shit.My heart races in a suddenly tightened chest. I bump Taylor Swift Fan Thirteen as I jump off the stool and lock on to my target. She stops near a pool table on the other side of the bar. Unsure of whether or not I want to spot Callie, I scan the area.

With my first step, a hand latches on to mine.

“Where are you going?” Terrance asks.

“I…” Disappointment and relief battle within me. Callie’s not with her. “I need to go talk to someone.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Jesus, is my mother paying her to keep me occupied?

“I appreciate your concern, but I’ll manage on my own.”

She releases her hold on me. “Find me later.”

I haven’t seen Felicia since I almost ran her over, trying to get out of their dorm suite. And our interaction leading up to that wasn’t much better. She leans a hip on the pool table, holding a stick, eyes wary when she spots me. “You look drunk,” she says over the music.

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