Lost Girls by Merrie Destefano

Author:Merrie Destefano
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fight Club;We Were Liars;E. Lockhart;The Mara Dyer Trilogy;Michelle Hodkin;psychological thriller;memory loss
Publisher: Entangled: Teen
Published: 2016-09-16T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Three

The party changed then, all the colors turned gray and black, all the music downbeat and hollow. I knew that the girls and I should have left, but I couldn’t. Dylan sulked away from us, joining the beer pong game in the kitchen and slugging down one beer after another. Before long, all the girls out there started flirting with him, casting an occasional nervous glance back in my direction. My mood changed, sinking lower, deeper, darker.

I’d just had my first date with Dylan—at least the only one I really remembered all the way from beginning to end—and now we’d had a huge fight.

Had we just broken up?

I watched him from the shadows, how his face lit up as he joked with everyone, how he gave a sultry grin to some blond in heels and tight jeans, how Brett joined him and they now competed on opposite teams, laughing, shouting, cheering.

It felt like my mouth was full of dust. His words turned things to gold, mine destroyed them.

“Hey, girl, enough with the sad face.” Lauren took me by the hand and pulled me to my feet. “Don’t you hear the music? This is your song.”

Taylor Swift was singing, something about heartbreak and getting revenge. It felt like her song poured out of my soul. Stephanie and Zoe were already dancing, arms wrapped around boys I didn’t know, and I had a feeling they didn’t know these guys, either. Lauren cocked her head to the side, closed her eyes and started singing the words to the song, pretending she was strumming a banjo. I couldn’t help myself. I laughed.

And I joined the party.

One of the girls handed me another beer and I chugged it down, my dance turning into something more like ballet. I spun on my toes, my movements sensuous and graceful, despite the fast tempo of the music. I flowed from one song to the next—not paying attention to the rest of the crowd. I imagined I was playing the part of the Black Swan, dancing an adagio—slow, lyrical and seductive—waiting for my partner to join me, my steps including plié, arabesque and fouetté en tournant.

That was when I realized I was the only one dancing and everyone else was standing around, watching. The old me would have stopped or gotten embarrassed. But I didn’t. I flashed a big grin and kept going, doing a slow turn that ended when I faced the kitchen.

Dylan had stopped playing his game and now stood in the doorway, staring at me, his mouth slightly open. That blond chick stood at his side, trying to get his attention, but it wasn’t working.

I lifted an eyebrow, then stretched out an arm suggestively.

Wanna dance?

If he didn’t, I knew half the guys at the party would say yes.

I didn’t wait for his answer, instead I swirled back around, my eyes closed, still moving to the music, changing my style to something with more jazz in it, swaying my hips.

A moment passed before an arm slid around my waist.

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