Elusion(16)

I shift my gaze back to Josh, shaking my head in denial. “No, I’m fine. I just needed to cool off.”

“That’s why I came out here too,” he replies.

I smile, adjusting the top of my dress and hoping that I don’t smell like garlic when I talk.

“So you’re a friend of Patrick’s. Tech camp, right?”

“Yeah. A long time ago.” He puts down his plate of food on an end table and extends his hand toward me. “I’m Josh Heywood.”

Taking his hand in mine, I smile yet again. “I’m Regan Welch. Nice to meet you.”

Just as our fingers slip apart, I hear the sound of footsteps coming fast and hard along the veranda’s black laminate flooring. I crane my head toward the automatic sliding doors and see Patrick walking straight at us, still radiant with pride.

“There you are,” he says brightly. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Josh takes a few steps back and gives me some room. Maybe he noticed how my stance changed from relaxed to rigid in no more than a heartbeat. Unfortunately, Patrick doesn’t seem to pick up on it at all. I nod in Josh’s direction and Patrick turns, facing him.

“You enjoying yourself?” he asks Josh, swatting him hard on the back.

Josh shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

“Good,” Patrick says. “Let me know if you need anything.”

But even though his words are kind, the light in his eyes has dimmed, and he’s clenching his jaw like he always does when he’s worried.

“What’s wrong?” Patrick whispers to me. “Did I do something to piss you off?”

The minute I see his brow crease with concern, I start to doubt my emotions. This is Patrick. My best friend. He’d never do anything to hurt me. Not intentionally, anyway. Still, I feel the need to tell him how disturbing it was to see him stealing some of my dad’s thunder. It may be unreasonable of me, and a bitchy thing to do, considering how sensitive he is. But I can’t hold it in. I just can’t.

“What was that in there?” I say, gesturing to the grand ballroom.

“What was what?” Patrick’s light blue eyes flicker with confusion.

“Your mom, saying that you made Elusion possible.” The words are coming out all accusatory, so I take a deep breath and try to steady myself by putting my hands on my hips. “It just didn’t feel right.”

Patrick shoves his hands in his pockets and glances at Josh, who has turned his back to us a little.

“Regan, there are a lot of investors at this party. My mom is only trying to remind them that we’ve got Elusion under control. You know, since the original creator isn’t in the picture anymore,” he explains, looking at me again, his voice almost pleading. “Your dad would understand.”

What Patrick says is perfectly rational, and I know it should comfort me, but the tone he takes really gets under my skin. Your dad would understand. It sounds like he’s insinuating he knew my dad better than I did.

“Maybe he would, but I don’t,” I say.

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t walked out, you would have,” Patrick snaps. He’s clearly not happy with how this conversation is going. “I just made a little speech in there, and all I did was talk about David, how much he did for Orexis and for me. Give me some credit. Don’t you think I miss him too?”

Patrick and I hardly ever fight, but if we keep going like this, one of us is bound to take us into a battle.

“I think I should go home, Pat.”

“You don’t have to leave,” he says with a deep sigh, like he’s trying to surrender. “Stay. After everyone goes home, we can go to Elusion together. It’s been so long since we’ve done that.”

It’s true, but that’s no accident. I haven’t told him that I’ve only used my Equip once since my dad died.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” I say. “We’ll talk later. Just go back inside and enjoy the rest of the party.”

“At least let me call you a car. It’s getting late.”

“I can take her home,” Josh pipes up.

Patrick and I look at him, surprised. I think we both forgot he was standing a few feet away.

“Are you sure?” Patrick asks. “She lives in the Historic Sector, so it’s a long drive.”

“I don’t mind,” Josh replies, walking toward Patrick and giving him a nod of reassurance. Then he glances at me with a small smile. “It’s a beautiful night.”





FOUR


MY HEART RACES AS JOSH’S HIGH-SPEED electric motorcycle weaves between oversize sedans and double trailer trucks, the headlight carving a path through the dark night. The skyscrapers that surround Jefferson Highway—the six-lane main drag that leads to the Historic Sector and continues on into the city—are zooming by us so fast they form a long, gray haze along the side of the road. If my mom ever knew I was on one of these “donor cycles” (that’s what people at her hospital call them), she would definitely have a stroke. But Josh and I are wearing helmets with built-in O2 filters, so we’ve taken that precaution, at least.

Most of my dress is bunched up around my thighs, but part of the hem is trailing above the back wheel like an emerald-colored plume. My hands are placed on either side of Josh’s waist, and my chest is pressed up against his back. I can’t help but feel what life at the academy has done to his body, and suddenly I’m able to forget the harsh chill of the wind and what feels like a coat of frost on my skin.