Page 57 of No Place Left to Hide

I laugh. “I’m very glad you came to this party too. Almost makes the punch in the face worth it.”

Definitely. It was definitely worth it, but I’m not about to be caught sounding desperate.

He looks up over my shoulder and I turn. Jena’s stomping back from the hammock with a scowl on her face. Both hands are fisted at her sides.

“Don’t mind me, just passing through.” She swipes the bottle of Malibu off the ground and wobbles toward the boat dock. Mumbling about boys being fucking idiots.

I sigh.

“Really glad I drove thembothhere,” Dylan says. “That’ll be an interesting car ride. What do you think will come first, puke or tears?”

I laugh. “Luckily, I have the power to save you from at least one of those possibilities. Jena can crash here with me tonight. I’ll drop her at home in the morning. As for the other, I suggest you crack a window.”

Dylan barks out a laugh. “If he throws up in my car, I’ll be the one crying.”

He sits back down, pulls my hand into the space between the chairs, and laces his fingers with mine. My stomach is made of butterflies. I smile like a damn fool. Excitement and nerves war for dominance and his gaze drops to my mouth.

Is he going to—

Someone clears their throat with a gross, phlegmy cough, and he jerks away from me.

Claire stands behind his chair, arms folded. “Sorry to interrupt your little…whatever this is.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

Dylan launches himself out of his chair, looking extraordinarily uncomfortable. “You didn’t interrupt. I was heading out anyway.”

I jump to my feet. That can’t be how our moment ends, with yet another Claire interruption. A few more minutes alone and I would have had him. “It’s not that late. We could go for a walk around the lake before you go? There’s a footpath that circles the whole thing.”

So much for not sounding desperate.

Claire’s arms drop to her sides and her expression morphs from sarcasm to pleading. “Actually, Brooke, I came back to apologize. I don’t know what got into me back there.” She waves aimlessly at the house. “But we clearly have some things to hash out. Do you have a minute to talk? Privately?”

WHAT?? No!

“Actually, Claire, I think we’ve said enough for one night. Me and Dylan are busy—”

He holds up a hand. “We can talk on Monday. You two should sort this out. I need to get Felix out of here before Jena kills him anyway. I’ll, um…see you later, Brooke.”

I watch, helpless to stop him, as he turns tail and trudges over toFelix. He makes quick work of nudging the idiot from his hammock and they stumble around the other side of the house. Before I know it, Dylan’s gone, and I’m left alone in the backyard with fucking Claire.

My emotions are so out of control that I feel like I’m vibrating. My skin is prickly, my hands are clasped so tight I can no longer feel my fingers, and my chest is filled with white-hot rage-fire that she pours gas on.

Loud, belligerent barks of laughter replace her fake-ass-pleading expression and she practically doubles over with the effort of it.

“Oh my god,” she wheezes. “He straight-upran awayfrom you. How embarrassing.”

My fingernails dig into my palms.

“I told you. You never had a chance with him,” she continues, wiping tears of amusement from her eyes. “You’re a consolation prize, at best, but you’re still making goo-goo eyes and falling all over yourself to weasel your way into being his second choice. How pathetic do you have to be?”

“How the fuck are you still here?” I demand.

“Oh, I didn’t actually leave. I’ve been walking that little path around the lake, trying to sober up. I was about to head home when I realized you still had my phone. This whole thing”—she gestures at Dylan’s now vacant chair—“was a hilarious by-product.”

She holds out her hand, like she expects me to be walking around with her phone in my pocket.

My brain straight-up malfunctions with rage.

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