Page 31 of Dragon Prince of New York

This is one of our favorite clubs in the city. We used to sneak in here in high school, and then when we first started college we’d come almost every weekend. Usually with my ex. This was our place.

Sora spots me before I spot her. She leaves the high top table where she was standing with three other girls and waves with both hands. “Over he—” Her eyes land on Jethro standing behind me and she gives him a guarded half-smile before pulling me into a hug and whispering, “What’s he doing here?”

“I’ll explain later.”

She won’t like hearing that someone wants to kidnap me in order to blackmail Midas, and there’s really no reason to stress her out about it. There’s been no sign of danger any time I’ve left the apartment. I sometimes have the feeling someone’s following me, but Cyrus said he was going to have someone tailing me for my protection. I'm sure it's just that.

“What’s wrong?” Sora asks. “Why did you text that you need ice cream?”

I only eat ice cream when I’m really upset, and she’s seen me destroy more than a few cartons of Mint Chocolate Chip in the years that we’ve known each other. I give her another hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Jeslyn’s in labor.”

“Isn’t it too early?”

“Yep.”

“Why aren’t you on your way to the hospital?”

“They didn’t want me there.”

“Oh, Fin.” She wraps her arms around me, understanding exactly what I’m feeling without me needing to explain, because that’s how it is with good friends, especially ones you’ve known as long as we’ve known each other. Her comfort is a balm to the part of me that feels unwanted, a reminder thatthe belief I'm not good enough isn't entirely true. Sora loves me just as much as I love her.

“Come on, let me introduce you to the rest of the group,” she says.

It doesn’t take long to meet the three other girls celebrating Abigail's upcoming wedding, and even less time for them to ignore me in favor of Jethro, who regales them with stories about weddings he’s attended in different parts of the world. The guy is seriously well traveled.

Sora seems more and more irritated with each question the women ask Jethro, so I pull her out onto the dance floor. We both need to blow off some steam.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” she whisper-shouts as we make our way into the crowd.

“Even though I brought Jethro?”

“I’m not happy about it, but I’d still rather have you here." She hipchecks me while we dance. "I don’t really know any of them that well. Abigail just invited me because I live with her.”

“Good thing I had an emotional crisis, then.” I try to joke but the words are sour. Going out dancing with Sora is one of my favorite things in life, but right now, I’d rather be in the hospital helping Jeslyn. I straighten my spine and try to convincemyself I don’t want to be somewhere I’m not wanted.

Sora must read my change in expression, because she pulls me into a hug. “It’ll be okay.”

I nod, throat tight and body aching with tension. “Let’s dance!”

We throw ourselves into the music with an abandonment usually reserved for drunk sorority girls. It feels like tingling, mind-numbing, freedom. Exactly what I need right now.

When I spin around, I catch Jethro staring at Sora with an intensity that seems unfamiliar to his usually lighthearted expression. My best friend notices too and just sways her hips a little more aggressively, grabbing the closest guy to her as the music changes to a slower song.

I decide it’s a good opportunity to get another drink, but when I turn away from Sora, I see the last person I expect to run into right now.

My ex, Tim, is all over some girl dancing four feet away from me. Our eyes lock at the same moment, and his mouth falls open. He pushes the girl to the side and takes one giant step toward me. “You can’t say anything to Victoria.”

Victoria Mar, our sculpting professor. The woman he left me for, who clearly isn’t here. Scumbag. He probably came back to visit his parents, and Professor Mar has no idea what elsehe’s doing—or who else he’s doing—while he’s here.

I can’t believe I ever thought I loved him. Clearly my judgment can’t be trusted.

It’s not like I talk to Professor Mar, but just to irk him, I say, “I’ll be sure to mention your cheating ass in our weekly call.”

“I’m not cheating, just dancing!” He grabs my arm, and I rip it away.

“He bothering you?” Someone says from behind me.

Turning, I come face-to-chest with a muscular giant. Well, not really a giant, but the guy is well over six feet, maybe close to seven. I’ve never really been into the whole big muscular thing, but I’m done talking to Tim and this guy seems like the perfect escape.

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