Page 29 of Night Shift

Jabari shrugs. “We sent out a lot of invites.”

Harper arches an eyebrow.

“Don’t give me that look, girl. You’re my only plus-one.”

Harper . . . giggles.

This is a new development. I’ve never seen Harper smile at a boy like this. Actually, I’ve never seen Harper look at a boy with any emotion other than distrust or outright hostility. So, this? This is a big fucking deal.

I’m still not one hundred percent sold on the guy. Not after Starbucks. But if the way Jabari is staring at Harper like she hung the moon is any indication, he understands what a big deal it is that she’s allowing him the honor of speaking to her.

So—reluctantly—I’ll give him a point.

“Hey, Henderson,” Nina says.

Jabari startles like he’s just noticed that Harper isn’t the only woman in the world. “Nina,” he says with a cordial nod. “Welcome back. I’ll let everybody know that the reigning beer pong champ is in the building.”

Nina blooms at the compliment. “Don’t warn them. I like when they underestimate me.”

Fine. That’s two points for Jabari.

But then he’s turning to me, and I’m suddenly and violently reminded that 1. I’m a real human being who can be perceived by other human beings and 2. three days ago, he and his teammates sat on the other side of a Starbucks and laughed at me. There’s no time to hide. All I can do is stand there like future roadkill in the headlights of a semitruck. Jabari’s whole face lights up with recognition and then—to my horror—a look of utter delight that I’ve only ever seen on Nina’s face when she’s about to do something I absolutely do not want her to do.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he says, offering me his hand like we’re at a career fair. “I’m Jabari.”

You know damn well who I am, I want to say. Instead, I take his outstretched hand in what I hope is a bone-crushing grip and settle for a monotone: “Kendall.”

“Kendall,” Jabari repeats like he’s never heard the name before in his life. “It is so great to meet you, Kendall.”

I feel the corner of my mouth tug.

But I won’t smile. Not yet.

Not until I know I can trust this guy.

“The three of us live together,” Harper says.

Jabari’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding.”

“Where’s the birthday boy?” Nina asks.

I cut her a glare that could melt plastic. Nina doesn’t so much as wince. She and Jabari are looking at each other like two people in a crowded lecture hall who’ve wordlessly agreed to partner up on a semester-long project.

I don’t care for this development. Not even a little.

“He should be somewhere around here,” Jabari says, brow knitting thoughtfully. “You guys want something to drink? I’ll take you to the bar, if you’re thirsty.”

“Oh, we’re parched,” Nina replies.

Jabari takes Harper’s hand, Harper takes Nina’s hand, and Nina catches my wrist before I can wriggle out of her reach and sprint off into the night, never to be seen again.

Outside, the house is chaos.

Inside? It’s somehow worse.

Darkness. Neon lights. Bodies packed tight, almost shoulder to shoulder, swaying in time with pounding music or streaming up and down hallways and in between rooms. Red cups in hands. The pungent scent of alcohol.

It’s a cacophonous overload to my senses.

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