Page 23 of They're Watching You

That malicious, beautiful bastard.

He extends a hand, and Donella calls something back to her partner before placing hers in it. Remington pulls her closer.

The pair doesn’t ease out onto the dance floor. Instead, Remington turns her, wrapping an arm around her waist and guiding her toward a shadowy corner of the room.

My stomach twists. Heat coils around my insides, my limbs. I don’t have long to imagine what’s going on back there, though, because Donella’s partner is pacing and watching them closer than any teacher chaperone. Like he’s seconds away from intervening.

I hurry my steps, unsure of exactly what I’m planning. When I reach the guy, russet-colored hair falling over a silver half mask, I smile up at him. “Want to dance?”

If only Polly could see me now.

Frowning slightly, he glances back in the direction Donella disappeared. He turns back to me, lips flat beneath the mask, and then shrugs.

A wave of surprise ripples through me. I’d asked in an attempt to buy a few seconds for Remington, not because I thought this guy would actually agree. He must not recognize me from the meeting because of the mask.

Either that or he’s planning to perform some horrible task on me.

His arms move to my waist, and I loop mine loosely around his neck. “So, what’s your name?” I ask, trying not to step on his toes. Polly and I only took part in the waltzes and the faster-paced numbers at these shindigs. Never the slow dances.

“Paul. Lowell.”

“As in the Lowell Math and Science Building?”

Paul flushes. “Named after my grandfather, Theodore. But you didn’t say your name.”

“Mary,” I lie, giving the nickname of endearment Polly always used to annoy me.

His eyes narrow within the slits of the mask, and my gut clenches.He knows.

But a dimple forms in his cheek. “Not sure how I’ve missed you around here. Maybe it’s the mask. Could I—” He motions as if to lift my mask.

I tear my head back. “Now, what would be the fun in that? This is all veryRomeo and Juliet, don’t you think?”

“But how will I find you tomorrow?” A crooked smile plays over his lips. He presses closer to me, his arms tightening around my waist. Panicking, I let my arms fall from his neck, and my hand brushes his right coat pocket.

It rustles softly, a metallic swish.

Remington’s words rush back.Earlier I was trying to figure out what we’re even supposed to do with these pendants—mine’s in my front pocket, by the way. But guys have many pockets. I push onto my tiptoes, our bodies crushing together as I whisper into his ear, “The hunt is part of the appeal.” Like a prayer, I shut my eyes and slip my right hand into his jacket pocket as my left hand moves to the back of his neck.

His breath hitches, but he relaxes into me as I hunt through the pocket. My fingers dust his room key card, and my hope falters. I am beginning to remove my hand when my thumb snags on something cold and serpentine. The metallic object that made the swish.

Paul spins us, and the chain gets tossed from my finger, settling back into the depths of his jacket pocket.

He slows again, and in desperation, I nestle my cheek against his chest. Hooking the chain onto my index finger, I ease it out of the pocket. Then, wrapping my arm around his midsection, I snatch the entire thing up into my fist behind his back.

A finger taps my shoulder and I jump, wrenching myself away from Paul.

He noticed.

But his gaze floats to something over my shoulder, beyond me. I turn to find Remington, brow cocked. “May I cut in?”

Paul glares at him. “You weren’t content with stealing my first partner?”

“She,” he says, indicating me, “is my date.”

“Get lost, man,” Paul says, smoothing his lapel. “She’s dancing with me now.”

I swallow back the acidic taste rising up my throat. My fist is still balled around the chain I’m hoping with everything in me contains a linchpin pendant. “Sorry, Paul,” I mumble. “I’ll, um, see you around.”

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