The Year I Became Isabella Anders (Sunnyvale, #1)(49)

He rolls his eyes at me, but a smile plays at the corners of his lips. “We can do whatever you want within the realm of reality.”

“Reality’s no fun, though.” I pout.

“That’s not true,” he says, his gaze drifting across the room. “I bet you’ve had fun in reality before.”

“Yeah, I guess.” I sip my beer, remembering the time I probably had the most fun. “I did have a lot of fun on my trip.”

“Okay, that’s a starting point.” He swishes around his cup. “What did you do on the trip that was so fun?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I saw a ton of cool stuff and did a crap load of crazy things. You saw the pics on my blog, right?”

“I saw the pics,” he says. “But I want to know about these so-called crazy things you did. Because a lot of those photos were of places. Not you.”

“We did a lot of stuff, but I guess one of my favorite things was when we went clubbing.”

His brows shoot up. “You went clubbing?”

“You don’t have to sound so shocked about it.” I chug down half my beer as my social anxiety jumps onstage and takes me over like a puppet. I know it’s insane, but it feels like his surprise screams, ‘You don’t belong here!’

“I’m sorry,” he tells me sincerely. “You just threw me off. I mean, the Isa I knew didn’t dance.”

“Well, she can dance now.” I straighten my shoulders as the beer swims through my veins. “And let me tell you, she’s awesome.”

“Is that so?” he remarks, rubbing his jawline.

I cringe, seeing where he’s heading with this. “Yeah, but only when I’m in clubs.”

He nods his head at the living room where people are packed together like sardines, grinding together like they’ve been drinking liquid hormones. “This place is kind of club-ish.”

“Not really.” I fight back the panic strangling my throat. “Kai, please don’t make me dance in front of all these people. I know some of them.”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll even dance with you.” He guzzles down a huge mouthful of his drink, tosses the cup into the garbage, threads his fingers through mine, and then hauls me toward the living room.

Before we dive head-on into the dancing orgy, Kai lets go of me and walks over to the stereo system in the corner of the room. Bradon is sitting near it, sipping on a drink. When Kai approaches him and says something, Bradon makes a face and promptly shakes his head.

“No way!” Bradon shouts, standing to his feet and placing himself in front of the stereo. “That’ll never happen, dude.”

“Oh, come on!” Kai begs, reaching for the stereo. “Just let me do it.”

Bradon swats his hand away. “You know I don’t take request like that unless it’s from a hot chick.”

Kai throws a quick glance at me then leans in and says something to Bradon. I don’t know what he’s saying, but I have a feeling he might be using me to get his song request past Bradon.

Bradon frowns but reclines back over the table and presses a few buttons before he sits up. The room grows quiet and people immediately start complaining.

“Turn the fucking music on!” A lanky guy not too far away from me hollers.

“Bradon, quit begin a dick!” a girl wearing a flowing floral dress shouts, red-faced and pissed as hell.

“You owe me, dude,” Bradon grumbles as Kai struts back toward me.

He gives him a thumbs up without turning around, walking right for me. “All right, it’s dancing time,” he says, rubbing his hands together.

“What’d you get him to turn on?” I ask, but then a song clicks on and I have my answer. I giggle. “You picked a Katy Perry song?”

“What? She rocks!” he replies, owning his song choice. He snatches hold of my hand and drags me through the people who’ve started dancing again. “Now come on. You owe me a dance.”

“How do you figure I owe you a dance?” I stumble after him as he shoves his way to the center of the room.

He elbows people out of the way to clear some space then his fingertips press down on my wrist and he spins me around so my back is aligned with his chest. “Because you never gave me the wand you promised me.”

I start to laugh, then stop myself. “You never gave me a chance to give you the wand. Three days after I promised you I’d make you one, you decided you were too cool to walk home with me anymore.”

“I came to your house after that happened,” he says. “You could’ve given it to me then.”

I tip my chin up to look at him. “When did you come to my house?”

“After I told my friend you were stalking me.” Remorse fills his eyes. “I wanted to say sorry. I know it wouldn’t have meant much, since I wasn’t planning on telling people the truth, but I felt bad.”

“Why didn’t I know that you stopped by my house?”

“Probably because Hannah answered the door and I chickened out.”

The mention of Hannah painfully reminds me of the birth certificate and how she put it on my bed for me to find. If she’s trying to get rid of me then that’s probably the tip of the iceberg. Who knows what other kinds of mean games are waiting for me at home?