Page 72 of Forbidden Lyrics

The guy doesn’t even bother to look at me. He’s too distracted by the girl making sex eyes at him from across the room.

“Yes,” I answer, though I don’t even see the point. He’s so laser-focused right now that I’m surprised he even hears me.

“Good,” Fen decides. “Don’t go too far.”

I watch him weave through the crowd when Stoker slaps Phoenix on the shoulder. “Hey. Becca and Skylar wanted to chat about…shit.”

I almost snort but hold it in.

Subtle, Stoker. Really subtle.

“Come on,” he prods.

Phoenix turns to me. “You good?”

I nod. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll be right here.”

“All right. If you need anything, come find us. Fen’ll be back in a few.”

And they leave me too.

Which is great.

Juuuust great.

A fresh wave of loneliness settles in the pit of my stomach, mingling with the rum and Coke until I’m well aware of how pathetic I look. This is a party. Parties are supposed to be fun. So, why am I not having any?

I bite my lip, swirling the contents in my cup, eyeing it warily before I bring it to my lips and take a sip. My expression sours.

Not bad. Not great.

Hmm…

“So, what do you think?” an unfamiliar voice asks from behind me. I nearly jump out of my skin before turning on my heel to face the stranger.

My blood runs cold.

I recognize him instantly, even though it’s been a while since he walked into SeaBird and scared the crap out of me. Same dark eyes. Same dark hair. Same over-the-top arrogance wafting off him like a heavy cologne.

My nose wrinkles with distaste.

He’d warned me to stay away from Gibson. He’d mentioned Em’s disappearance, trying to scare me. He made me question my sanity for weeks. Yet, here he is in the flesh.

I still don’t understand why he’d bother to lie to me like that, insinuating something terrible happened to an innocent girl when I know for a fact that she’s okay. Heartbroken but okay. If she wasn’t, Madelyn would’ve told me. We might have our own issues, but if my safety was at risk by hanging around Gibson, she wouldn’t stand for it.

Which means the man in front of me is the dangerous one. The liar. The guy who can’t be trusted.

Anxious, I scan the open floor plan for a familiar face, but all I see is a sea of strangers.

“Cat got your tongue, babe?” he asks, his head cocked as he scans me from head to toe.

Praying he doesn’t recognize me, I untuck my hair from behind my ear and give him a tight smile. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hey.” The guy looks me up and down. Again. His lips stretch into a satisfied grin as he scratches his chiseled jaw. Feeling exposed––and like a piece of meat at the grocery store––I cross my arms and try to blend into the white cabinets, though I know it won’t work. It seems I’ve caught this guy’s attention, and I have no idea how to escape it.

Where is everyone?

I look around his massive frame in search of Fender. Or Phoenix. Or heck, even Stoker will do. But there isn’t a single familiar face in sight.

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