In Peace Lies Havoc (Midnight Mayhem #1)(24)

I ignore him and the other three who make themselves comfortable around the fire. King sits on the grass opposite me, bringing the glass to his mouth while keeping his eyes on mine. I watch as he slowly tilts my margarita up and swallows it in one gulp. I expected something. Maybe some disgust. Since when could guys stomach a margarita?

Killian pulls over a chair and takes a seat beside Val, propping a boombox on the ground. He flicks through his phone and hits play on an R&B song I recognize. “Antisocial” by Ed Sheeran and a rapper. The beat kicks in, and Killian winks at Maya. “Your song, aye, boo?”

Maya flips him off, blazing up another joint. “Be nice, or you can get your own ganja.”

I’m a big people-watcher. I’ve never been a talker, and a lot of people have said that they assumed I was a snob. I’m not. I’m just quiet. Too many people are quick to spew words and don’t take enough time to think before doing it. I’d rather watch people. How they speak, hold themselves, and what they say and the manner in which they say it. I guess some think that’s creepy. Maya and Killian, though, I could cut their sexual connection with a blunt knife. They’re saying a lot, by not saying anything at all.

My fingers flex on my lap, and now I wish I had something to at least take the edge off. I’m not a big drinker. I drink when I feel like it, and it just so happens that I don’t feel like it often. I’m also not a very nice drunk. I get sloppy, weird, and say things I don’t mean--the exact reason why I people watch, so I try to avoid it or keep it to minimal sips at best.

“And why don’t you drink, Dove?” Val further asks, studying me. Why does she keep looking at me like I’ve kicked her puppy?

I shrug. “It’s not that I don’t.” My eyes flick to King briefly, who is still watching me. Did he realize that I didn’t touch my drink during our game of sixers? No. Surely not. That would mean that he was paying close enough attention to me. “It’s just that I don’t often.”

Val seems to think over her next words, but when our little party turns into a rager, with more people piling in, she yanks her eyes away from me and zones in on Kingston. She pushes up from her chair, and even though there’s a swarm of people walking around and grabbing drinks now, I can’t help but force myself to watch her climb onto King’s lap as if she belongs there. My throat goes dry, so I look away quickly, not wanting to get caught stalking. I never would have thought they were something. King seems so unattainable. He’s like top shelf alcohol, nice to look at and dream about, but you just know that one taste will knock you on your ass. I find Rose watching me. She offers a soft smile, and then passes me her cup, moving her chair directly beside mine, on the other side of Maya.

“If I’m right,” Rose says, pointing to the glass, “you need that.”

I raise the glass and take a small sip. The beer rests on my lips before I swallow it.

“Actually, I might go take a walk. I’ll see you a bit later?” I say to Rose, who is now taking the joint off Maya.

“Do you want me to come with you?” She wraps her lips around the end and inhales.

I shake my head. “No. I just need some air.”

I look to Maya, who’s ignoring me. “Bye, Maya.”

Her eyes come lazily to mine. She has the worst resting bitch face I think I’ve ever seen. “Bye,” she answers flatly, before looking out into the distance. As I turn on my steps and make my way to God knows where, I try to figure out whether Maya is weird, disturbed, or just a recluse. I had a plan to walk around until I ended up back at our RV, but the tent is already set up, and it instantly catches my eye.

Neon lilacs, obscure blacks, and dusty greys illuminate the dark night, like a warning on what’s to come. Midnight Mayhem is an evident reminder that the myths were true. Monsters really do come out at night.

“Little Bird, are you lost?” Delila interrupts my stalking.

I spin around to face her and watch as she puts the end of a cigarette into her mouth. She inhales and then exhales softly.

“No. I was heading back to my—the RV.”

Delila comes forward, taking my hand in hers. “Follow me, lost one.”

I don’t have a chance to refuse because she’s dragging me toward the opening of the tent. It’s much larger than the one that was set up at her house and bigger than the average circus style one. Instead of red and white stripes, it’s lilac and black, and there are little fairy lights embedded into the material. A big sign hangs over the entrance, and in messy black writing outlined in lilac reads Midnight Mayhem.

Delila pauses at the threshold, waving her hand inside. “Come on. It’s not all set up yet, but the floor is open.”

I am about to say that I’m impressed with the fact that this monstrous tent is already set up so quickly when I realize what she had just said.

“What do you mean ‘the floor is open’” I ask, falling into step behind her. As soon as I enter, I almost trip on my own feet. There are no chairs right now, but the floor is set up. There’s a makeshift stage that sits behind one large circus patch, which lies empty.

“I mean,” Delila stomps on her smoke, putting it out, “I want to see you lose yourself.” Her eyes drop to my feet. “Let me guess, ballet?”

My eyes snap to hers after hungrily eating up the space. “Yes. How’d you know?”