Page 22 of True Blue

“Ready?” I ask, opening the door and setting the lock as everyone nods and head out into the hall. I walk to the elevator, following Gwen and side by side with Layla. I feel Axel’s eyes on me and glance back, catching his smirk at being caught staring at my ass.

Layla hooks her arm in mine as we get off the elevator, heading through the lobby and out onto the dark sidewalk.

“How far is the walk?” I ask.

“Not long. About ten minutes,” Gwen says, looking back at us. “We’ll probably hear the music once we get off campus since it’s just down the road.” We walk down the side of Ring Road, heading toward the tree shrouded section that splits the campus between academic buildings and the shiny sports complex and fields. Most of them are empty most days, but I’ve seen the lacrosse team practicing from the window in my room a few times.

We turn left, walking through an open iron gate and off campus onto a street lined with nice looking houses. The cool air makes me wrap my cardigan around my midsection.

“Layla said you’re obsessed with the guys living at this house,” I say, and watch Gwen whip around and glare at her sister, who shrugs. Axel snorts from behind us. “What’s the deal with them?”

“I’m not obsessed with them,” Gwen says, falling back to walk in line with Layla and me. She takes a minute to continue, an owl hooting in the distance. “I’m just curious, that’s all.”

Layla rolls her eyes at me. “Curious about what?” I ask. Gwen frowns, glancing between her sister and me.

“Gwen thinks they’re part of the mafia,” Axel says from behind us.

“No,” she yells, looking back at him with narrowed eyes. “I think a couple of them might be part of the Bratva.” Shock must register on my face because she continues. “The Russian mafia. There are some articles online about how Smith’s parents and sister died that seem weird and his cousin is never alone, always seen with either Smith or this other burly man who doesn’t ever speak a word, just stands next to him or in the back of his classes when Smith isn’t around.”

“She thinks she can write an expose about them in the school paper and not get her head chopped off in the middle of the night,” Layla says.

Gwen rolls her eyes. “Of course, I can’t do that, but the journalist side of me is curious. Don’t you think it’s weird that there might be two mafia princes going to the Coast?” Layla’s words from the other day about everyone at the Coast having parents in every echelon of the world’s elite drift through my mind. “I want to know what happens in that house. And how are the other three guys involved?”

“There’s no story there, sis. You should probably give it up. You’ve already pissed them off enough,” Axel says, and I look back at him, finding him shaking his head. The thump of a baseline invades the silence around us as we continue down the road.

“They caught you snooping?” I ask, looking back at Gwen.

“No.” She bites her lip. “I sort of wrote an article about Tanner Hill our freshman year that blew up more than I thought it would.” She starts wringing her hands.

“She eviscerated him. It was his first year playing for the hockey team and she basically ridiculed the school for letting him on the team.” Layla looks around me at Gwen, daring her to disagree.

“It wasn’t that bad,” she says quietly, cheeks heating. “I didn’t think it would get published. I was a freshman just starting out on the paper. I figured another article would get chosen and was just using the assignment as an outlet.”

“She’s on the Ravens’ shit list now, hence the need for backup when entering their lair.” Layla giggles, pointing at me and Axel.

Gwen crosses her arms over her chest and eyes me. “Well, hopefully coming with the birthday girl’s roommate will win me some brownie points,” she says, chewing her lip again.

I furrow my brows. “Wait, it’s Mira’s birthday? And this party is for her?” My stomach drops, panic blooming in the empty space and making my blood race.

We turn down a gravel driveway, the opening tucked between two rows of tall cypress plants that hide the house behind them from view. The wall reminds me of a softer version of the brick one we have in Georgia, and I wonder if the residents feel as trapped inside as I did. The music suddenly sounds much louder as we walk toward the three-story black and grey Victorian house. A large, covered porch wraps around the right side of the house, a circular turret sitting above it atthe second and third floors. Multi-colored lights flash through the open windows of the bottom floor and shine out the glass beveled door, lighting the porch up as well. Cars line the circular driveway, a red truck the largest and parked closest to the door.

“You didn’t know?” Gwen asks as we get closer to the house.

I swallow to try to soothe my now dry throat. “We don’t really talk much.” Gwen’s forehead worries and Layla squeezes my shoulder. “I should have known,” I whisper.

“It’ll be fine,” Layla says, letting go of my shoulder to walk up the porch steps. They creak under our feet, but the noise is almost completely drowned out by the loud music now pouring out the open areas of the house.

A large staircase welcomes us as we walk into the house, people mingling on the sides of it and spilling into the open living room to the left of the front door. The dark wood stairs are the only piece that matches the Victorian façade outside. Everything else is light and modern, cream walls framed by dark wood accent borders and an open floor plan where the kitchen can be seen beyond the living room. Another room opens on our right, decorated in green with a large bay window looking out on the driveway. It’s filled with people leaning against the walls and on furniture facing the two folding tables in the center where people play beer pong, someone yelling as they miss one of the three cups left on the other side.

“Axel!” a girl yells from the beer pong room, waving at him from the couch on the other side of the room. Her friend looks over, eyes lighting up when they see him.

Axel waves back, an easy smile on his face. He puts his hand on my back as he slides out from behind us, heading toward the girls and I watch, something spikey and hard rattling around in my chest.

“Let’s find Mira and wish her a happy birthday,” Gwen shouts over the music, pulling on Layla’s hand. Layla grabsmine and we shoulder our way through people, heading into the living room area opposite the room Axel just went into. My eyes immediately find Bentley, standing next to a curvy girl sitting on the arm of a leather couch. The girl throws her head back and laughs as Bentley pouts down at Mira sitting in an oversized armchair on the other side of him. A petite girl in all black giggles on the couch beside the curvy one and I recognize her from my Algebra class on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Gwen sees them and starts dragging us over, tapping Mira on the shoulder once we’re close enough. Mira turns around, smiling when she sees her then looking back at Layla who surveys the room and me. I fidget, ashamed I didn’t know this was her birthday party.

“Hey, great party! And happy birthday! Figured I'd stop by. I’ve never been to one of the guy’s parties,” Gwen rambles and Mira nods, murmuring thank you. She looks over at Layla whose eyes track over the group before stopping on her.

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