Page 10 of Unveil
When Zy takes my hand, for some reason, it’s the guy in box six I mentally beg for help.
My gaze remains his captive, even as Zy asks, “Will you marry me?”
15 minutes earlier
“Damn, her tattoos are sick. I don’t know if I could draw them that well,” my brother, Hatch, murmurs behind me, his rough voice low. But I can hear him loud and fucking clear. “Especially the one on her thigh. I mean, look at that. When her skirt rises, you can see how far up it––”
“Watch it,” I growl.
He snorts. “This guy’s too easy, Dash. He needs some of your ‘Dr. Dashiel’ monkhood discipline.”
“Not like you haveanydiscipline to speak of, Hatton,” Dash mutters as he taps his tablet.
I’d think it was med school shit if I hadn’t caught him checking a certain someone’s daily post earlier. None of us have social media, but that hasn’t stopped us from watching on burner accounts the past few years. With time almost up, keeping tabs is more necessary than ever.
I tune them out, leaning forward with my forearms resting on the golden railing lining box six.
My thumb traces my mouth as I mentally count.
Twenty-nine.
“You were right,” Hatch tries again. “She’s pretty good.”
Thirty.
“Swinging her leg out like that can’t be easy.”
Thirty-one.
“Bet she’s bendy. Tattoos, red hair, probably a freak in?—”
Thirty-two.
Her raised foot lands, and I turn to slam my fist into Hatch’s thigh, forcing a mix of a groan and a cackle. It doesn’t matter that I’ve thought all those things already. What matters is she’s going to be my fucking wife.
“Damn, man,” he rubs his leg, his face contorted in a pained smile. “The closer you get, the easier you are.”
“You’ll feel it soon enough,” I warn.
“Give it two years,” Dash grunts, swiping his screen. With Brylie’s birthday only a couple of months behind Luna’s, Dash’s part of the pact is coming up soon. The wait’s gotta be getting to him too.
“Trust me, I’m beginning to fucking feel it,” Hatch grumbles, still rubbing his quad. “Being charmingly funny helps the madness. Y’all should try it sometime.”
Luna’s radiant smile lights up as everyone from backstage swarms her. My reckless little rebel has gotten quite the fanbase. But there’s a sadness at the edge of her eyes, and I’ve been trying to figure out why this entire show.
She has no plans that I know of after graduation, and I knoweverythingabout Luna Bordeaux. Maybe she’s sad this part of her life is over? In the same beat, though, she’s happy too, ecstatic even. Throughout the night, there’ve been glimpses of grins I’ve seen countless times right before she does something impulsive that I have to clean up. Her mischievous side makes her the life of the party, but the girl should at least think beforeshe acts once in a while. Then again, she wouldn’t be my Luna if she did.
The curtain falls on the celebrating seniors, making my heart stutter with anxiety that she’s out of my sight so close to midnight.
“Where’s that after-party again?” Hatch asks, pulling my thoughts away.
“Masque. The speakeasy underneath the opera house,” I answer.
“Underground? I thought New Orleans is below sea level,” Dash pipes in.
“Everything but the French Quarter. The Bordeauxs built underground tunnels during Prohibition. It’s how the speakeasy is still just a rumor…”
I drift off as something in the air changes. My brothers shift, setting off alarm bells in my head.
