Page 60 of Stardusted
Until then, it wouldn’t be fair to pull her into this mess. Hell, for all I knew, the robot aliens would be back for me. The last thing I wanted to do was put my best friend in the crosshairs with me.
My chest ached. I made myself release my dress and looked away, forcing a small smile. Unable to look at her, I bent toward the mirror and pretended to fuss with my hair.
“I’m okay.” I’d said it so many times lately, I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince anymore. With one more fluff of my fast-deflating curls, I steeled myself and turned around. “Just stressed. I needed a night out. Thanks for doing this.”
Amelia narrowed her eyes like she wanted to call bullshit. For a second, I thought she would. If anybody could, it’d be her. She could read me like a book.
But then she simply shrugged. “Of course.” She gave her hair a final pat and motioned toward the door. “You ready to go back out there?”
I avoided her eyes. That twisting, empty feeling was back in my stomach.
She knew I was hiding something. I couldfeelit.
But because I was pretending to be normal tonight, I whirled from the mirror and sighed. “Let’s go dance. Maybe I can still get a drink out of Prince Charming.”
A beat later, her expression cleared, and she grinned, wide and red-lipped. “There you go. That’s the spirit.”
I followed her out of the bathroom. I didn’t resist when she caught my unmarked hand in hers. She cast a coy smile at the group of guys we passed, and their heads turned to follow her.
She seemed fine. The suspicion I thought I’d glimpsed was gone. Maybe it was in my head. There was a chance a lot of things were these days.
But the encounter had killed my buzz. I couldn’t shake the heaviness. I trailed Amelia into the press of bodies and poundingmusic. Like before, in the school parking lot, I had the uncanny sensation the world was crashing around me, and I was an island. Alone with the knowledge—my own personal nightmare.
It was just me, cut off from the rest of the world, surrounded by people who had no idea what was lurking in the shadows. Giant, six-fingered murder machines from the stars. I shivered.
Irritated at the self-pity creeping in, I closed my fingers around the markings on my palm again.
Emerick found us again, and I watched him bend down to speak to Amelia. Her bright laugh was lost to the thud of music as they slipped easily into dancing. I followed suit, but my body felt disjointed. Disconnected.
I tried anyway. Maybe if I pretended things were normal for long enough, I’d start to believe it, too.
My admirer didn’t reappear,thankfully, and I’d relaxed a little by the time we took a sweaty break to grab drinks. Emerick officially introduced himself, apologizing for not doing so before. He was charming. Nice enough. Not as snobby as some of her other rich friends.
He even whipped out a shiny black credit card to pay for the second round of shots the bartender lined up in front of us. When he turned to take care of the payment, I shot Amelia a raised eyebrow. Leaning back on her elbows against the curving bar, she gave an almost imperceptible shrug, as if to say,why not?
“This is a bad idea,” I told her, lifting my glass and eyeing the clear liquid. “You know I have work tomorrow—not to mention loads of studying to do.”
She snorted and pushed off the counter as Emerick pocketed his card and joined us.
“You need it, Rae,” Amelia said, sighing. “You’ve had a shit week.” She raised the tiny glass. When I reluctantly followed suit, she clinked the rims. “Here’s to the aliens.”
I stiffened, giving her a withering look. Out ofeverythingshe could’ve toasted with, she went with that? Her lips curled into a mischievous smile.
Oblivious, Emerick raised his glass, his white designer-label shirt glowing in the black light. “Here’s to the aliens.”
“Sure,” I muttered, saluting them before tipping back the shot.
I shuddered. The minty alcohol burned all the way down. God, I hated shots. I chased it with a gulp of vodka-and-soda to kill the sting. The flavor combination made me wince.
When my vision cleared, I spotted Amelia hanging on Emerick’s neck across from me, her face close to his as she murmured something I couldn’t hear. His hand was drifting low on her hip. Polite for now, but veering into the flirty lane quickly.
I looked away, turning my empty shot glass over in my hand. The markings on my palm were invisible in the darkness.
We’d toasted to the aliens. The ones who’d almost killed me. Twice now.
The memories stirred a fresh shiver. I forced myself to focus on my surroundings instead. People. Noise. Music. The crowd pulsed with life and movement, a blend of college students and after-work regulars. Laughter and the tinkle of glasses behind the bar melted into the relentless beat vibrating in the air.
It was busier than normal tonight. Good for people-watching, but I couldn’t stop scanning the shadows for tall, chrome-plated horrors. Which was ridiculous. There was no way the bouncer would’ve let a killer alien robot through the front door.
