Fall into Me - Mila Gray Page 0,2

sleeve away from Tristan and Zoey and over toward a striking-looking, elfin girl with blond hair, who stands in the center of a half dozen people, like a brilliant planet being orbited by lesser planetary bodies.

“This is Emma,” Dahlia announces. “And this is my friend Will,” she says, introducing me. I know this girl is Dahlia’s girlfriend and that she’s an actress. This is her house, so I’m guessing she’s a successful one.

“Hey,” I say, feeling incredibly awkward as all eyes land on me. “Happy birthday.”

“I used to have the biggest crush on him.” Dahlia laughs.

I glance sideways at her, bowled over by the news, and by the fact she’s announcing it to the world, including to her girlfriend.

“She’s only saying that to be nice. I was the weird kid on the block,” I mumble, already wondering how long I have to stay. It’s not that the party doesn’t seem fun and buzzy and all those other adjectives people use to describe parties, but it really isn’t my kind of thing. I prefer small groups—one-on-one conversations, and even those I find difficult most of the time. I’m also not good at chitchat, and that’s obvious after several strained minutes of standing like a lemon making small talk with Dahlia and her friends. I don’t feel out of my depth here, so much as in the wrong swimming pool.

Emma suddenly inches over to me. “You don’t like crowds, I can tell.”

I look at her, surprised. “I guess I’m just not used to them.”

“You’re an observer, like me.”

I nod. “Yeah.”

She sighs. “I’ve had to learn to play the role of an extrovert, but secretly I’m not one at all.”

“I hear you,” I say, smiling as my eyes roam the room. It’s another habit from the Marines. I’m used to always being on the lookout for threats coming my way, so even in a party in a fancy house owned by a film star, I’m behaving like a sentry on the base.

“Dahlia told me you were looking for a job,” Emma remarks.

I take a deep breath in. For crying out loud, does everyone know my business? “Yeah,” I grunt, before telling myself not to get so upset. It’s not like it’s a secret. I’m just sensitive to the idea of anyone worrying about me or taking pity on me. I can take care of myself.

“I think I can help,” Emma says. “I know someone who’s looking to hire someone in your”—her eyebrows lift—“area of expertise.”

What could that possibly mean? I squint at her. Then I realize that whatever friend she’s talking about is probably part of this celebrity world—a world I want nothing to do with. But before I can dismiss her, someone calls her name from across the room. Emma quickly squeezes my shoulder. “We’ll talk later, okay? It really is a great opportunity.”

“That would be great,” I murmur politely. “Thanks.”

Emma hurries off, darting through the crowd like a silver comet. And I stand in the corner, watching people talking and dancing and flirting. I feel like I’m on the outside of a galaxy, looking in, like some piece of floating space debris.

I watch Tristan and Zoey slow-dance but have to turn away when they start kissing. My gaze falls through open French doors that lead into the back garden. Outside I catch a glimmer of an azure swimming pool, and then a flash of neon purple streaks past. It’s a girl with dark hair pulled into a sleek topknot. She’s wearing a clinging purple dress that reveals slender arms and a tiny waist. I can feel myself automatically leaning closer to get a better look at her. There’s something about her that catches the eye, beyond the dress and the body. She’s talking to someone who I can’t see, but it looks like they’re having an argument.

I can only see her in profile, and I find myself wanting to see her face-on. She starts to walk off, out of sight, but a guy suddenly appears. He chases after her and yanks her by the arm, pulling her back around to face him. He’s yelling at her, saying something I can’t catch, and she’s trying to pull away, but he won’t let her go.

I’m moving before I can think about it, pushing past a couple of people making out by the window and walking out the French doors onto the terrace.

The guy, who is skinny and blond, with hair sprayed into some weird shape that looks like he walked backward through a