Somewhere Only We Know(50)

“Lucky!” someone cried into my ear. “Can I get a hug?” My head whipped toward the voice. It was a man, his arms reached out for me.

Every part of me recoiled, and when I spun around to get away from him, my hat tumbled off and I could only watch as it rolled away—trampled immediately.

I closed my eyes and yelled out one more time.

“JACK!”





CHAPTER FORTY


JACK


I ran to her. Pushing through the bodies. Unthinking, staying focused on her voice.

“Jack!” I heard her yell again.

I couldn’t find her; I couldn’t reach her. Adrenaline pumped through me as I shoved people aside. It wasn’t only the group of teenagers anymore—it was dozens of people. People who had heard her name and come running. I could almost feel her terror, the panic woven through the chaos of the crowd, reaching out to me.

Nothing mattered anymore except getting to her.

“Move!” I yelled. “Out of my way!”

“Jack!” Her voice was so close. I stepped on something and when I looked down, I saw that it was her hat. A panicked energy coursed through me from seeing the familiar green object trampled, propelling me forward, moving people effortlessly.

Finally, my eyes found hers and I saw the fear pulsing in them. “Lucky!” I yelled, going to her, not thinking about using her real name. I saw the fear transform instantly into shock.

But her hands still reached out to me and I grabbed them, swiftly and tightly. I pulled her to my chest and she tucked herself into me, popping her jacket collar up toward her face.

The light show started, the music soaring into the night air, but the crowd still followed us. The neon beams tore through the fog of the harbor, the buildings taking turns dancing with every color of the rainbow.

Her entire body was rigid against mine, her breath hot against my shirt. My arms kept her close and I whispered into her hair, “I got you.”

Now I had to get us out.





CHAPTER FORTY-ONE


LUCKY


He called me Lucky.

He knew.

He knew the entire time?

Or was it only this moment, when the fans found me?

The need to get out of here, to escape this, was stronger than any of my questions. I kept my eyes on my feet, the usual shuffle-o-concentration to get through the crowds. This time, Ren wasn’t here with his team to threaten people.

But I did have Jack.

We were still surrounded by fans screaming and chasing us, and I was about to lose it when Jack said, “Ready?” I lifted my gaze from my feet to what was directly in front of us—a row of electric scooters with restaurant logos on them. Delivery scooters.

Before I could say anything, he was pulling me toward one and I climbed on it, glancing back at the group of people taking photos and reaching out for us. Jack yelled at them to back off and then jumped on in front of me. “Hold tight,” he said.

If I wasn’t so terrified I would find this over-the-top. Like, a scooter ride through a foreign city—are you serious? Was Jack Tom Cruise? Also, were we stealing?

With a sudden jerk, we were riding away from the crowds and I gasped, grabbing him around the waist before I could go flying off the scooter.

We wound through the narrow street, the fans growing smaller behind me along with the flashing of the light show, and it was so, so exhilarating. Without my hat, my hair was whipping everywhere, and I saw Jack bat it away from his face.

“Do you know how to drive one of these things?” I yelled.

“Sure!” he yelled back. “Well, kind of!”

We swerved around a couple crossing the street and they screamed as we drove by. Oh, God.

“I know how to drive a scooter!” I yelled. “Pull over!”

“What?”

“PULL OVER.”

I felt his hesitation and I pinched him, hard. He finally parked on a side street. I slid off and motioned for him to scoot back. He grinned, his hair sweaty and stuck to his face, and then he did as he was told.

I sat in front and grasped the handles. “Hold tight,” I said in a low growl, mimicking him. He laughed and did just that, his arms wrapped around my waist, his hands holding his elbows so that he was folded around me like an animal plushie with Velcro paws.

We pulled into the main road again, and I was careful to stay with traffic, following behind a particularly confident and competent taxi. “Where are we going?” I hollered.

“I’ll navigate!” he yelled back.

So I followed Jack’s directions, turning right here, left there, shooting down an alley. Colorful neon storefronts blurred by in a dizzying rainbow streak, and the delicious smells of food wafted over us in quick bursts. One second you’d get a whiff of salty grilled meats and then suddenly it was the sugar-laced scent of egg waffles.

Through it all, Jack’s arms stayed hooked firmly around my waist, steady and strong. He leaned into me, pressed against my back. He surrounded me with warmth and a sense of security, even as I wondered if he had been lying to me the entire day.

Riding through the city like this, the wind in my face, the sound of the motor buzzing—I was able to focus on the acute feelings of this very second. Not thinking back and not thinking ahead.

“Let’s pull over here,” Jack finally said, his voice close to my ear. We were in front of a vintage shop lit up with small twinkle lights.