Page 55 of Bend & Break
Fine. but only because of the murder.
Mads
Sure, Blue. only because of the murder.
Chapter 19
Blake
The walk over to Jonah’s place from where we parked several blocks away feels like stepping into another version of campus life—one I’d need a trust fund and a god complex to survive in.
The building is the kind of place you only get to live in if your family name is on a wing of the university. There’s a concierge desk in the lobby with a guy who barely glances at us, seemingly used to the chaos the weekend brings.
The party is already alotbefore we even cross the threshold—music bleeding out into the hallway, people in varying degrees of costume and sobriety spilling out onto the balcony, and the faint smell of weed fighting for dominance with something pumpkin-scented.
Costume shopping with Mads had been a whole thing. We’d both pretended we were going to commit to real Halloween themes, but that lasted about ten minutes before it turned into a competition of who could make the other break first. I’d walked out of the dressing room in a plaid skirt, fitted blouse, and a trench-style coat cropped at the waist, knee-high socks finishing the look. A magnifying glass dangled from a chain around myneck, tongue-in-cheek, but from the way his jaw clenched when he saw me, I knew I’d won.
He’d tried to play it cool, but his eyes did this slow sweep that made my stomach flip. Then he came out in a Ghostface mask, the black robe hanging open over his fitted tee and jeans, casual enough to look thrown together but still unfairly good. He tugged the hood back, mask dangling from his fingers, and I had to turn back to the mirror just to hide the fact that I was staring.
I look around and realize, in hindsight, that showing up to a masked party to find one specific guy was a terrible plan.
It’s like someone dropped us into the world’s worst game of Where’s Waldo, except everyone’s drunk off their asses.
The loft is wall-to-wall bodies—vampires, witches, at least four cowboys that might be the same guy making the rounds. Any hope of spotting Jonah is crushed under a sea of plastic masks and cheap wigs.
“We’re never finding him,” I yell over the bass, wedging myself in front of Mads as someone in a glitter skeleton suit tries to squeeze past us.
He glances down at me, hand landing on my hip to keep me from being shoved into the wall. “We’ll find him. Just stick with me.”
“Iamsticking with you,” I say, because the room is so packed that my back is basically glued to his front.
“Yeah,” he runs his nose along the column of my throat. “I’ll make it worth your while later.”
I swat his shoulder, but don’t actually move away. His hand stays on my body as we weave through the crowd, and every so often he leans down to murmur something in my ear—half strategy (“check near the DJ booth”) and half commentary (“guy in the Frankenstein mask is totally checking you out”).
“Are you jealous?” I shoot back.
“Of Frankenstein? Absolutely. His neck hardware is iconic.”
We stop by the bar, scanning faces—or in this case, scanning various layers of vinyl and latex. Mads leans down again, lips moving against my ear in a way that’s definitely unnecessary. “Remember when I said we’d find him?”
“Yes?”
“I might’ve been lying.”
I roll my eyes and grab his wrist, dragging him toward the stairs. “Come on. If he’s the kind of guy who throws parties like this, he’s probably holding court somewhere high enough to look down on his subjects.”
“You make him sound like an evil overlord,” Mads says, letting me tow him along. His free hand slips to the small of my back as we climb, and he’s grinning when I glance over my shoulder. “Which is fine. Means I know exactly how to deal with him.”
“By annoying him until he gives you what you want?”
“Exactly. Works on you.”
I don’t dignify that with an answer, mostly because he’s not wrong.
The upstairs hallway is somehow louder than the downstairs one, which shouldn’t even be possible. Music from two different speakers competes for dominance, the music vibrating the floorboards.
Every room we pass is some new level of chaos—beer pong, but with martini glasses balanced on a skateboard that two people are slowly rolling back and forth, three guys using a mattress as a wrestling mat, a girl crying into the shoulder of someone wearing a horse mask.
