Page 71 of Hateful Games

The cavernous library we’ve stepped into is turned into a shimmering ballroom. The four chandeliers decorate the ceiling, glinting and shining like precious jewels. I twirl in a circle, wanting to soak in every tiny detail into a memory I’ll cherish and reminisce forever.

The dim lightening makes our surroundings even more hypnotic.

I’m too mesmerized by the spines of the books to give a flying fuck about the small crowd spread around the room. The party or our reason for being here all but forgotten. My feet have a mind of their own, aching to run toward the shelves, steal a book, and disappear somewhere to read.

I take a step, only for a firm hand to lock around my elbow in a vise-like grip.

“Don’t you dare wander toward the books, Rosalie.”

I pout. “But—”

“I know what you’re thinking.” Miya huffs. “And no. You have all your life to read. Tonight is about letting loose.”

I realize she’s right. I promised myself the same. Glancing at the books longingly once more, I let Miya pull me toward what is a bar to our right. Alcohol of all varieties and then some line the glass shelves behind it in a striking arrangement.

Miya is busy buying her drink while I decline. Instead, I search the throng of bodies dressed in custom tuxedos and suits, and a few in similar dresses to ours with their faces hidden behind masks. Some downright terrifying and creepy to sultry and innocent.

The ratio of men to women doesn’t fit the theme of everyone being a couple.

In fact, there are more men than women.

Something’s not right.

“There they are,” whispers Miya in my ear.

“Who?”

“Malcolm and Nova. Who else?”

In one of the corners of the room, which I didn’t notice before, is a small seating area. A group of five men reserve that space as theirs, sitting and quietly talking. Their aura screaming untouchable and superior to others. One can always tell with the group that stands apart. Whether in high school or college.

Besides, Nova wouldn’t belong in anything less than that.

I recognize Malcolm by his mask, which I saw in his bedroom earlier. The dim light makes it hard to make out their suits so I can distinguish Nova from the others and avoid risking being recognized by him.

“That guy lied,” mutters Miya angrily. “No one’s a couple here. Unless it’s a polyamorous relationship.”

“Yeah, I figured it too,” I reply.

She nudges her drink, smelling like vodka, toward my hand, but I shake my head.

“Oh, come on, one sip won’t hurt,” she insists.

“Fine.” I gingerly take a sip and immediately cough. “Ughh… Damn, it burns. Who in their right mind can enjoy this?”

Miya laughs, rolling her eyes at my reaction, and downs the shot in one go. Without fucking flinching.

“Show-off,” I tease.

“It’s not the taste but the high it brings in your bloodstream later.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Her gaze skirts over my shoulder and she curses under her breath, “Shit.”

“What?” I ask, when she turns toward the bar.

“Don’t look but they’re all staring in our direction.”

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