Page 78 of Full Throttle

Juliette sighed. “I just don’t understand why he’s so…” Domineering. Overbearing. Infuriatingly handsome. “It’s like he gets off on pushing people away, but then he also volunteers to teach students. In his spare time. For free.”

“Oh,” Baz said. “So we are talking about it.”

She rounded on her brother. “Why did Hastings even come to the academy in the first place?”

“Search me,” Cap muttered. “Probably just fancied the free coffee.”

Her brother pried the dart from the board with slightly too much force. Cap looked irritated, although that was pretty much how he always looked these days. Even as a child, he’d abhorred when school let out for summer holidays; he was the sort of person that would have been happiest running a marathon while simultaneously solving the quantum theory of gravity. Idleness was a foreign concept to him. He simply didn’t believe in it.

“I should go,” Juliette said. “I need to pack before we leave tomorrow.”

Baz frowned. “But it’s only”—he glanced at his watch—“six o’clock.”

“Exactly.” She hated to think of the state of her kitchen. She’d spent the last four weeks meal-prepping chicken, and the dirty dishes in her sink reflected it. Plus, she could squeeze in a second workout if she left now. Win-win.

“Come to the next pub.” Baz bumped her shoulder. “We can play another round.”

Juliette gathered her purse. “You’re bad influences. Both of you.” She rose. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Baz ruffled her hair. “Leaves quite a broad spectrum.”

The boys said their goodbyes before disappearing down the street. The August heat lingered in the air like a summer melody, although storm clouds gathered overhead, threatening to break the blistering heat. A gaggle of young men eating cake outside a pub quieted as she passed. The tallest man muttered something before hurrying into the street.

“Hey! Hey, stop.”

Juliette paused, her hand tightening instinctively on her purse. “Yes?”

“I…” The man squinted. “Can we get a picture?”

“Oh.” Relief filled her. Right. They were clearly celebrating something. “Of course. Where’s your phone?”

The man held out a phone. Sleek and expensive-looking. Businessmen, presumably, so perhaps a promotion? She gestured for the men to cluster closer together, and the tall man gave her an odd look.

“No, I mean with you.” He paused. “You are Juliette Marchmont, right?”

A man pointed his fork. “I loved that overtake in Australia.”

“And that start in Miami?” Another shook his head. “Legendary.”

Juliette stared. The phone felt slick in her hands. It was strange, she thought, to be recognized. Not unpleasant, exactly, but definitely…odd. She managed to say something—what, she didn’t know—and the men laughed. She snapped a selfie, then handed the phone back, promising to look out for it, even though she was back to avoiding social media after the Dominic-on-a-yacht incident.

Not that she cared.

She was just trying to stay focused. That was all.

She continued toward the Thames, lingering by the bank; white birds drifted across the river, leaving ripples in their wake. Swans mated for life, she recalled; she’d learned about it during year-four trip to the zoo. It had struck her as extremely romantic at the time, although now she couldn’t imagine anything worse. What could hurt more than outliving the one thing you were living for?

A thought occurred to her.

Juliette paused.

She dug through her purse. Tissues, wallet, a random grocery store voucher…no keys. Shit. Fat drops of rain fell, accompanied by a growl of thunder. Juliette glanced toward the pub. Did Baz say where they were going next? She couldn’t recall. There was a spare key at her sister’s place, but Rosaline was out on a date, and Juliette didn’t want to give her sister any excuse to leave. Rosaline hadn’t dated seriously in years.

The skies opened, raining sheets of icy water. People shrieked, scattering toward the nearest tube station, jackets and purses held aloft like umbrellas. Juliette swore under her breath, fumbling through her contacts. Where the hell was Baz’s number? If she could just call him—

A red bus whizzed by.

Water smacked her in the face. Her phone slipped from her hand, landing with a crack. Cold damp seeped through her bra and underwear. Juliette closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath as she crouched down. Her phone screen was black.