Page 2 of So I'll Know
“I dunno. We could be friends.”
He dropped the shovel and started tracing patterns on thecastle walls with his delicate fingers. “I don’t get to come here much, so I doubt we’ll see each other again.”
For some reason, his words made me feel sad. “Sure, yeah, you’re probably right.”
But he was wrong.
I saw him a lot over the years.
Turns out we were from the same small town in Washington State.
What’re the odds?
I saw him at the arcade playingPac-Man, his dainty fingers punching the buttons furiously.
I saw him at the movie theater watching the new Spider-Man movie, which made my stomach flutter for some reason.
Every time, I hid before he noticed me. Looking at him gave me a weird feeling in my throat, like I couldn’t get a full breath.
Then I left Brighton.
I attended Whitmore University, graduated early with a business degree, then immediately moved to Vancouver, B.C., to open a pub with my younger brother, Sebastian.
Years later, I’d still catch a flash of silver on the SkyTrain or a slim figure in a teal hoodie. But it never mattered because I didn’t know his name. He was just a ghost.
CHAPTER ONE
MARCUS
NOVEMBER
“Idefinitely should have worn some glitter,” I mutter to myself, then pull my moleskin coat tighter around my shoulders as a gust of cool fall air hits me.
It’s a Friday night, so Seattle’s Capitol Hill neighborhood is teaming with nightlife, and I feel out of place.
This isn’t really my scene.
I had no idea how to dress for an evening at a gay nightclub, but Tristan said I should avoid flannel and cargo shorts. He thinks I’m uptight and boring, which is honestly a fair assessment. Until recently, that type of judgment wouldn’t have bothered me, but I’m turning thirty in a few months, and I’ve been feeling anxious and out of place—like something is missing.
I’m about to consider bailing when a hand falls onto my shoulder.
“I can’t believe you actually showed, Marcus!” Tris is wearing short shorts and a see-through hot-pink mesh top with a sparkly choker. His dark hair is slicked on the sides, but soft on top, so his rich curls fall over his forehead in an endearing way.
He looks good.
“Happy birthday,” I say gruffly.
Tris winks. “Thank you.” He steps aside and gestures to the people behind him. “This is Kara, Maddock, and Tim.” He gives me a coy smile. “This is my boss and friend, Marcus.”
“Hello,” I say, feeling awkward.
The first two are dressed similarly to Tristan, all colors and glitter, but Tim is sporting dark jeans and a gray T-shirt, so that makes me feel a little better about my wardrobe choice. I try to smile in a disarming way, but, based on the doubtful looks they exchange, it comes across as forced.
I clear my throat. “Can we go inside? I need a drink, Tris.”
“Sure, big guy.” He chuckles and guides me to the door, where a pretty girl with pink hair checks my ID and waves me in.
The club is loud and chaotic. Lights dance around the space while a sea of bodies bounces to some godawful pop music. It makes my skin crawl.
