Page 70 of Heal Me

“Goofball. So Saturday’s the big day.”

“You better believe it. And you know I’ve got some sweet dance moves locked and loaded when they hand me my diploma. No take backs at that point.”

“I’m not sure that’s true, but okay.” I laugh.

“What, you’re not sure about my sweet dance moves?” he asks as he stands and then begins to twerk.

I laugh harder. “Oh my God, please stop.” He stands and takes a seat on a bar stool. “What are your plans for the real world?”

“Real world’s not gonna get me yet. The old man told me as soon as I finish school, the free ride’s over and I have to get a job.”

“That’s typically how it works,” I gently remind him.

“Ah, but I’ve found a loophole. Are you ready for this?” He pauses dramatically. “I’m not gonna finish school! I’m starting my master’s program this fall in Liberal Studies.”

“You’re seriously going to get your master’s degree just to avoid getting a job?”

“Genius, isn’t it? After that, who knows? Maybe a different master’s degree. PhD. Law degree. Hell, I can keep this party going for at least another decade.”

“Only you.” I shake my head.

“Allie, you remember Charlotte,” William says to his girlfriend who just sat down at the table.

“No,” she says flatly.

“Hi, Allie. I’m William’s ex-girlfriend,” I say. “We met a while back.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember you. The chick that got kidnapped. Wasn’t it from this bar?”

Oh yeah, I remember Allie. She and I were never destined to become friends, and she’s driving home the point. “Nice to see you both.”

“Char, wait, we’ve gotta talk about the postgraduation party!” I hear William call, but I keep walking. That’s enough of Allie.

Returning to my table, I do a double take when I see Jen making out with Elliot’s roommate, Collins, across the patio. “Maybe since Jen’s going to hook up with Collins, she won’t care Elliot and I are now together,” Stephanie leans in and whispers drunkenly to me. “I mean, they are broken up, and she’s practically got her tongue down Collins’s throat,” she slurs.

Holding up my hands in an I’m-not-getting-involved kind of way, I get that weird feeling. The back of my neck prickles, like someone’s watching me. I survey the patio until I find the culprits. “I’ll be back in a minute,” I say to Stephanie, although she’s hammered and it likely won’t register.

I make my way to the other side of the patio and take a seat next to Turek, who’s less than incognito in a colorful Hawaiian shirt. Sam is seated on the other side of the table dressed in black from head to toe. His tattoo’s hidden beneath his long-sleeved black Henley. Good, because his tattoo is scary. Oh all right, it’s not just the tattoo that’s scary—it’s the angel. “Of all the bars in the world, you just happened upon this one?” I ask with arms crossed.

“What? I happen to love college bars. Like shooting fish in a barrel,” Turek says as he knocks back what smells to be whiskey and winks at a pretty redhead seated across the patio.

“Gabe might have mentioned you were out, and he might have asked us to make sure you got home safe,” Sam says as he takes a pull from his beer.

“How did you find me? I never told Gabe which bar I was going to.”

“We’re called the Watchers for a reason,” Turek says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“While I appreciate you coming out this evening, I don’t need bodyguards,” I say kindly but firmly.

“Looks like you do. Your ex-boyfriend was getting pretty friendly.” Sam flings the accusation.

“Yes, because he and I are friends. That’s his girlfriend, Allie, seated beside him,” I say, crossing my arms. “You’d know that if you were doing a better job of watching.”

“Easy, tiger,” Turek says to me. “I’m going to go get another round. Sam?”

“One more,” Sam says.

“Charlotte?” Turek looks at me.

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