Page 20 of Find My Way Down to You

I inspect the tiny cup, then him again.

He looks older than me, but only slightly. His delicate features—both his defined cheekbones and angular jaw—stand out against russet brown skin. South Asian, I think. He raises a thick eyebrow at me. The shot glass too.

“I’m not a drinker,” I tell him.

“More for me.” He tips his head back. Downs the liquid without spilling.

I watch greens and blues dance across the thin gold necklace he wears. The charm at the end is twin coiled snakes and…wings?

He places the empty cup on the counter. There’s a neat row of them. At least five. But he doesn’t seem drunk. He gestures elegantly toward the stack of cans next to the glasses.

“Bubbly water?”

“No,” I say. “But thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” He crosses his arms, studying me. The attention warms my face. “I don’t know you,” he says.

I let out a short laugh. Mostly out of gratitude. I half expected this party to be filled with familiar faces. Former classmates who knew my history. So far, everyone’s been a stranger.

Including this boy.

“I don’t know you either,” I say, not cruelly. Just a fact.

He smirks. “Are you new?”

“New to Santa Barbara?” I tilt my head. “I’ve been here my whole life. But I’m not an SBS freshman.Yet. Just visiting with—”

“No.” He flaps a hand to stop me. His eyes brighten. They’re light brown, almost amber in the room’s weird glow. “New to this party.”

“Oh.” I swallow. “I came with a friend.”

My eyes flit to the corner. Max is pressed into Lake’s side, talking animatedly with her friends. Lake’s hand is low on Max’s back, her smile high on her cheeks.

“A friend,” the boy repeats.

When I turn back to him, he has a fresh shot cup tipped to his mouth. His grin widens behind the plastic.

“You don’t look like you want to be here.”

He doesn’t say it meanly. Instead, his voice is a warm, curious note above the cacophony of music and talking. Something about his loose posture makes me relax.

“Is it obvious?” I comb fingers through my curls, smiling guiltily. Sweat dampens my scalp and forehead.

The boy shrugs. “Only to me.”

I don’t know what he means by that. He doesn’t explain. With an intense grin, he says, “Where else would you prefer to be?”

For whatever reason, I consider his question. He watches me, waiting. As if he already knows the answer I plan to give isn’t the real one.

My eyes catch on something in the hallway just outside the dorm’s open door. Someone striding past the room instead of into it. Even in profile, his face stops me from saying anything else. In the chaotic lights, he’s a sharp shadow. His name fills my throat like a choking smoke.

Cary.

He walks with purpose around the sea of bodies trying to enter. His bored expression says this party is the last place he’d want to be.

But he’s not alone.

Following close behind is a tall girl with pale white skin. Long hair flows down her back like an obsidian river. Her hand grips his.