Page 44 of What Happened on Roslyn Street?
Something stops me from sending it. It may be the fear that she’ll blow my cover, no matter how subtle she tries to be. There’s an equal chance she’ll tell me not to go at all, and I can’t risk that.
Whether I’ll live through it is another question, but the stake strapped to my thigh is enough security… I hope. Everything I wear belongs to Margaux: the little black dress, the heels, the red lipstick, and the holster keeping my stake in place.
She may kill me for taking them without permission, but that’s only if someone else doesn’t do it first.
I don’t feel like myself as I answer the door, and that’swhat I need. For one evening, I can step into someone else’s shoes and pull this thing off. I can be Margaux—daring, charismatic, the one everyone wants.
There’s a defiance about me, an unshakable determination, as I step through the doorway.
The door clicks shut, and I let my eyes wander over him. At first, I can’t put my finger on the change. Then I realize his glasses are gone, as is the usual coat he wears.
His shirt swoops into a V at his chest, and the sleeves are short enough that I can see the lean muscles of his arms. For the first time, I realize how strong he is.
Typical vampire. It’s unimpressive.
I force myself to meet his gaze, holding my head higher. “Where are you taking me?”
He lifts a brow. “You asked for an adventure. It wouldn’t be adventurous to give it away so easily, would it?”
“Maybe not.”
“Then…” He gestures vaguely, stepping away. “Come along.”
My heart thumps with every step I take. The nerves of a date tangle with the fear of being with someone who may have ties to the campus mystery.
Am I supposed to hold his hand? Touch his arm? Margaux would know what to do.
I overthink it until we’re outside. Finally, my fingers reach to brush against his. For a moment, it seems he doesn’t know what to do either—tensing under the slight touch. Then, his fingers slot into mine, holding onto me as if it had never been a question.
I’m holding hands with Caldwell, and… why does it make me feel dizzy?
“We are going off campus this time,” he says. “I’ll tell you that much.”
“Oh?” My pulse skyrockets. “How far off campus?”
“Do you trust me?”
No!
“Of course, I do.” I give him a saccharine smile.
My answer seems to satisfy him, nodding as he leads me to a car—not his car, it seems, but a ride that’s waiting for us.
“We won’t go far,” he says, opening the back door.
His answer does nothing to soothe me as we slide into the vehicle. Everything about the situation is perfectly normal, which is what makes it so odd.
I glance at his phone to see what he’s looking at—Lyft. That may be typical for some adventures, but it isn’t what I had in mind for an escapade with Caldwell.
I expect a dark car whisking me off, not us huddling in the back of a Honda.
At least the driver will know where I am, though I doubt he cares. The gentleman in the front seat is older, with tired eyes, and he doesn’t so much as greet us.
“Let me know if you have trouble finding the location,” Caldwell says. “It’s a little off the beaten path.”
The man nods and says nothing else.
An oldies song plays through the shitty speakers. I remember it vaguely, but it doesn’t matter. The thump of my heart is louder thanParadise By the Dashboard Light.
