Page 114 of Stroke of Fate

With a promise to be back before then, I make a beeline for the second floor. Murmuring apologies, I push past couples making out and groups of friends taking up space.

Since it’s impossible to tell which bathroom he went to, I have no choice but to open every bathroom door I find.

After checking the second and third floors, he's still nowhere to be found. My heartbeat skyrockets, and I try to calm myself down. Maybe I’m overreacting.

As I debate my next move, my phone buzzes with a text.

Macy: Our ride’s here.

Shit.

I have to leave with them. Abandoning the girls isn't an option, knowing they’d never do that to me. And with Pia here, I need to get her back to my apartment safely.

Bear: I’m on my way.

The second I press send, I open my text thread with Levi.

Bear: Where are you??

Bear: We need to leave.

With my phone clutched tightly in hand in case he texts back, I quickly head downstairs.

Reaching the second floor, I spot Mack walking hand in hand with a girl. I call out his name to catch his attention. He smiles, but his expression quickly shifts to a frown as he takes in my face. Behind him, his date eyes me curiously.

“Everything good, Bear?”

“Yes,” I reply, swallowing my unease. “Our ride is here, but I don’t know where Levi is, and we need to leave,” I explain quickly. “Can you find him for me, please?”

“Of course.” Mack nods. “I’ll make sure he’s right behind you.”

I flash him a grateful smile, feeling slightly better. “Thank you. Tell him I’ll meet him at his apartment.”

He says something to the girl, but I don’t stick around, knowing I’ve already wasted enough time.

I spend the entire car ride checking my phone, but there’s no text or call from him. The girls try to reassure me that everything’s fine, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

After saying goodnight to Pia, I head to Levi’s apartment. My unease deepens when it’s clear he hasn’t made it home yet.

I turn on the lights and notice a gift bag on the counter, with the words "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" printed in colorful block letters on the front.

It’s not heavy, but there’s something solid inside. Despite my curiosity, it feels wrong to open it without him.

Carefully placing the bag back down, I sit on the couch, clutching my phone like a lifeline. I’ve tried calling him numerous times, but it always goes straight to voicemail.

With nothing left to do, I wait.

And wait.

All the while, my gut is tight with worry, and unease crawls up my spine.

The longer I sit there, the more my mind replays every detail of tonight. I thought he was drunk, but was he? Surely, a few beers couldn’t knock a six-foot-one, hundred-pound-something male off his feet.

Maybe I had imagined the slight slur in his words. Everything was loud: the music, the people talking. Everyone’s words sound like they’re mixing as one when you can barely hear yourself think.

But none of that explains what could have possibly happened in the short time between him going to the bathroom and us leaving.

I push to my feet, wiping my clammy palms down the front of the sweats I changed into earlier. I sit back down, not knowing what to do anymore. I feel like an idiot waiting for him, especially when he couldn't even bother to show up for the plans he made.

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