Page 75 of Walking Wounded

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He gets a string of texts from an unknown number on his walk to The Grind.

½ price drinks 2nite @ the club

If ur interested

this is Tara btw

Smiling to himself, and trying not to walk into a decorative tree planted along his route, he types back:Is this my official invitation? How cute. I feel so special.

Don’t make a thing out of it, she sends back.R u coming or not?

I’ll try.

Bring Hal. She closes with no less than seventeen winking smiley face emojis.

She wasn’t at the house when he left, and he hopes that means she’s at school. Though she’s probably helping Dex test cocktail recipes. Luke feels, to his horror, that he ought to say something to her parents. That’s never been his style – he’s no rat – but at the moment, he can’t share a wink and a nudge with her and think “kids will be kids.” This kid has a bright future, and she’s squandering it.

He’s in line at the coffee house, grateful for the warmth and anticipation of caffeine, when his phone buzzes with another alert.

Tara again:Hal better know how 2 keep a secret.

She’s not placing her trust in Hal, though. Hal, at the end of the day, is a family employee, who no doubt knows his place. She’s trusting Luke here, as a friend. Maybe. A pseudo-friend. Maybe she has designs on secret-swapping:If you tell my parents about this, I’ll tell Hal you’re in love with him. Well, little late for that, girlie.

He can, he texts back, along with a thumbs-up emoji.

Ur so lame.

One latte and a hard-won window table later, Luke tucks into his shitty word count and resolves to quadruple it.

He writes fifteen-hundred words in an hour, and keeps going.

~*~

He’s still tinkering around with his…book, let’s just call it a book, he thinks…back at the apartment when Hal gets home, face flushed from the cold, eyes bright with something like gladness when they land on Luke.

“Oh good, you’re home,” Luke says before Hal can greet him. He shuts his laptop and looks up at Hal’s amused, expectant face. “How do you feel about night clubs? Because we have an invitation.”

~*~

A bald, beefy guard in a black Security windbreaker stands guard just outside the door of the club tonight. The line is only four-deep, girls in skimpy all-black outfits and too much eyeliner, who more than likely have fake IDs in their wallet.

“You on the list?” he asks when Luke approaches.

“Keller and Rycroft.”

The guy nods, scratches their names off, and waves them inside. “Have a good time.”

“Thanks.”

Beyond the dark confines of the hall, Luke can see flashing lights skipping across bodies; the music pounds through the floorboards and up the walls, dampened by the tight space around them.

He feels the warmth and weight of Hal’s hand at his waist, Hal’s lips brushing his ear as he leans over his shoulder and says, “Matt would shit a brick if he knew about this!”

Luke’s heartbeat accelerates, and it has nothing to do with the music.

He tips his head back, feels the scratch of Hal’s five o’ clock shadow up high along his cheekbone. “Which is why you’re never going to tell him!”

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