Page 170 of Deliverance

“For what?”

“For inviting me.”

“Of course. You’re twenty years old. You should be going out and having fun.”

There are other things that I want to add and almost tell her, but something makes me hold them back. Tonight isn’t the night to bring up the past, especially the kind we both share.

So I let the words simmer a little and decide to save the pep-talk for some other evening.

After introducing Preston to Santiago’s friends and finishing up our drinks, I drag her back on the dance floor and we rock to the music until sweat coats our bodies and dampens our clothes.

Eventually, I lose all track of time, my body aching pleasantly, my shoes squeaking against the floor, my vision filled with jostling shapes and shimmering lights.

That’s when the fast beat of the track changes to a slow tune, the people around us begin to pair up, and Zander finds me. His arms slip around my waist and he presses his body to mine.

“I was hoping you’d save a dance for me?” He arches a brow, his gaze sweeping over my face and pausing on my lips.

I lift my hand to the back of his neck and grab a fistful of his unkempt hair, partially for leverage because I’m drunk and partially because I just want to. One word leaves my mouth, “Yes.”

Zander laughs softly, his voice dissipating into the slow rhythm of the ballad that floats through the room. “You look like you’re having fun.” His sexy whisper tickles my ear as he rests his cheek against mine.

“I am.” I nod. “But I’m going to miss his stinky ass.”

“Well, good thing there are cell phones.”

I wrack my brain for a snarky response, but nothing comes and I realize that I don’t really want to talk.

The music carrying over the floor, swells and grows and fills every part of me with some strange new kind of warmth.Must be all the drinks, I think, clinging to Zander harder.

He brings his palm to the back of my head to cradle it and we continue to shuffle around in slow leisured movements until the song ends.

“Will you excuse me for a second?” I tell him, then run off to the restroom where I shimmy out of my panties and hide them in my purse.

I’m pulled from my sleep by a distant noise that I can’t place. My mind’s still a hot mess, various images of the party, our ride back to my place, and everything that happened here after the door shut finally rushing in.

My pulse ratchets up at the memories. There’s a light, phantom tug at my core, a reminder of all the wonderful things Zander did to me for what felt like hours on end until exhaustion claimed us both.

Snapping my eyes open, I turn my head on the pillow and inspect the side of the bed where he fell asleep, and the sight of the empty space and crumbled sheets make my heart go prematurely haywire.

For a moment, I consider the past three months of my life is just a dream, but when I scoot over the mattress and pick up his scent, relief washes through every part of me, every inch of my tired and blissfully naked body.

He’s real.

We’re real.

I sit up and look around the dark room, my ears straining to dissect the noises that come from downstairs.

A methodic whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

The time on my cell reads 4:47 a.m.

I pilfer through the pile of the clothes on the floor by the bed and pick up Zander’s shirt, then put it on and stroll toward the stairs.

The low humming becomes panting, the sounds so harsh and deliberate, swelling inside the loft, filling each crack and crevice.

Swallowing thickly, I pause at the top of the stairs and take in the view of the floor where the only source of light is the glimmer of the city, sneaking inside through the large windows and smearing itself against the laminate in distorted square patterns.

My heart lurches to my throat.

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