Page 17 of No Place Left to Hide

“Yes.”

Hetsks at me. “A dress and no date. Brooke Goodwin, the horror.”

I turn my head and stare straight at him. He’s leaning down toward me, and we’re basically nose to nose. The firelight flickers across his left cheek and dances in his eyes. He doesn’t pull back.

Is he flirting with me?

He rubs a circle on the back of my hand with his thumb, and the simple action gives me a burst of courage.

“Maybe I’ve been waiting patiently for someone to ask me.”

“Someone in general, or someone specific? Because a few guys on the team have been getting shit for asking and getting turned down.”

Ah, there it is.

I don’t break eye contact. “Someoneveryspecific.”

He swallows, and I love that he’s the unsteady one for once. It’s usually me turning to mush when he’s around. Seeing him like this, like he has no idea what to say next, is exhilarating.

I turn the rest of my body until I’m facing him. We’re so close that if he leaned down a few inches, we’d be breathing the same air. “But, if he doesn’t ask me, I’d rather go alone than with some random guy just to say I have a date. We are getting pretty close to prom. Maybe he doesn’t want to ask me?”

He swallows again and lets go of my hand to brush some hair out of my face. “Maybe he saw you turning down half the school and didn’t think he had a chance. Especially with…all the history.”

A flash of Claire standing in the open door of the lake house almost makes me flinch. I claw my way back into this moment. “Maybe he’s the only one who stands a chance. Maybe he should ask and find out.”

He smiles. “Maybe she deserves a big sign or a flash mob. A promposal, Instagram-ready affair, and all that?”

I roll my eyes. “Dylan, will you ask me already?”

His grin is massive. “Will you go to prom with me?”

I shrug and look off at the ocean. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”

The sound that comes out of his mouth is half surprise and half choke, and I laugh so hard I can’t breathe. “Of course…I’ll go to prom…with you,” I gasp between laughs.

He picks me up and spins me around in circles. “You almost gave me a heart attack,” he whispers in my ear.

I think this might be the absolute best night of my entire life.

As shitty as the start of this school year was, it’s going to end with me going to prom with the only guy I’ve ever wanted and then heading off to my dream school. How is this my life?

Fuck Tracey and her balloon. This is the only celebration I need.

Jena must see me in his arms because her squeal carries across the beach. Felix shouts something about Dylan’s nuts being in my hands, and Beau snorts, raising his drink in confirmation. Dylan puts me down, unbothered by their comments, and beams at me. He starts to say something, but the sound’s drowned out by someone screaming.

Our entire group—the whole party, really—turns toward the noise as a figure with long brown hair, dressed in a Carhartt jacket and ripped cargo pants, stumbles into the yard from the side gate. He glares wildly at everyone in turn. “Where the fuck is Brooke Goodwin? I know she’s here.”

My heart stops. I feel the blood drain from my face.

No. No, no, no, no.

He stomps across the sand in his boots, and people scramble to get out of his way, until he finally sets his eyes on me. His sharp features twist in rage.

Claire’s brother.

Brandon Heck jabs his finger in my direction. “How fucking dare you come out here?” he screams. “How dare you celebrate? How dare you be happy? You don’t deserve happiness. You don’t deserve anything!”

He lunges toward me, but Dylan and Felix fling themselves around either side of the fire to block his path. Everyone’s shouting. I hear Dylan tell him to back the fuck up. Felix tells him to leave. Jena comes tostand beside me, but all I see is Brandon’s face, snarling at me between Dylan and Felix’s shoulders.

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