Page 25 of I Blame the Rival

The girl tilts her head, mulling it over, “Is she the one from Taber University?”

I nod, feeling my spirits skyrocket.

She grins, “I heard she shoved Walsh’s balls back up where they belong.”

“He had it coming.”

“Definitely. That man has been a creep since freshman year.” She pulls a cigarette out of her flannel pocket and fiddles with it, “But to answer your question, no, I haven’t seen her. If you find her, be sure to pass my thanks along.”

The last bit of hope drains from my body. Numbness washes over me as I turn and walk back towards the doors.

I lost her.

My mystery girl was here in Silverwood and I fucking lost her.

Stumbling past the chain smokers, I’m about to slip back inside when a firm hand grips my shoulder.

“Stamp, please.” The bouncer flicks his eyes to my wrist, “You need a stamp to get back inside.”

My gaze drops to my bare wrist.Shit.

In my rush to find Lacey, I forgot to get a re-entry stamp.

“I don’t have one.”

“Then you’ll have to get back in line.”

He points to the front entrance where students are lined up around the block. There’s only an hour or so left until closing, so there’s no way I’m getting back insidebefore it shuts down.

The burly man rolls his shoulders and subtly shifts into defensive position. I stare at him, wondering how many fights have broken out because of a missing stamp.

Probably too many.

“Okay.” I take my leave before he can respond.

The echo of my shoes slapping the pavement gradually gets louder the farther I get from the club. I stare at the ground the entire walk to the parking lot, the weight of what I lost pressing down on me.

Pulling out my keys, I’m about to unlock my car when a sudden movement catches my eye. I jerk to the side, expecting one of my brother’s goons to jump out at me, but no one does.

I wait five seconds, ten seconds, but nothing happens. Trying to calm my racing heart, I peer around the side of my car and squint into the darkness. The shift happens again, but this time I can see its someone sitting on the ground.

Curiosity drives my feet forward until I’m close enough to see the person using their phone flashlight to look at something. The light moves again and suddenly I get a clear shot of the person’s lavender tank top.

My throat goes dry as my heart stops.

It’s her.

Chapter 6

Lacey

“Lacey?”

I glance up from my book and find a guy standing a few feet away. Shining my flashlight in his direction, I catch a glimpse of loose jeans and a blue button-down shirt.

There’s probably a cautionary tale about a girl reading alone in a parking lot somewhere, but for some reason, I don’t feel afraid.

Maybe it’s his voice. This guy’s got a really nice voice.

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