But when she opens the doors, I don’t know where I am anymore, let alone who.
The ballroom has been transformed to imitate the space theme of the Universe Escape. A hologram show beams brightly colored images of stars and planets overhead. They flash in synchronized patterns above the guests, who seem totally delighted by the scene that’s playing out on the cathedral-style ceiling.
I meander through the room, noticing the stage that’s erected at the far end, where enormous speakers blare hybrid classical-techno music while shirtless male models wearing the new Equip and purple lamé boxer-briefs strike statuesque poses on towering platforms. Tuxedo-clad men and ornately dressed women crowd the dance floor as silver-painted cocktail waitresses sporting Elusion visors weave among the masses, holding large trays filled with crystal glasses of champagne.
Clearly, this party isn’t just celebrating Cathryn’s fiftieth birthday.
I take a deep breath as my eyes scan the crowd, hoping to find Patrick’s friendly face. Instead they connect with someone else, someone totally unfamiliar. He’s standing only a few feet away and wearing a uniform—small bronze medals and pewter buttons are sewn onto his gray jacket, and his black pants have thin red stripes up the sides. His sandy-colored hair is cut close to his scalp, making his cheekbones stand out as much as his amber-tinted eyes.
Military academy. No doubt about it.
And from the small grin he’s giving me, there’s no doubt that he just caught me staring at him.
I blow out a sharp, nervous breath and glance to my right, praying that a champagne girl will be in reach all of a sudden so I can grab a glass of bubbly and wash the embarrassment away in one big gulp.
No such luck, though. Soldier Boy is now standing a few inches from me, rocking back on the heels of his spit-shined shoes and looking like he’s trying to think of something to say.
We’re both silent, and I’m thinking too—about who he is and why he’s here. I feel a stroke of heat spreading up the back of my neck, and then a loud voice slices through the music, catching me off guard.
“Regan!”
I spin around and see Patrick moving through the crowd. Even though he’s slowed down by the throng of admirers who want to shake his hand, he keeps his gaze fixed on me. He looks absolutely fantastic, dressed in a retro Edwardian-style tux, but his blue eyes appear a little bit bloodshot, which happens whenever he spends too much time working.
I hate to say it, but I kind of wish he’d find someone else to talk to right now. I’m on the verge of a conversation with Soldier Boy, after all.
But lo and behold, there is someone tagging along with Patrick, though he’s moving so erratically across the dance floor she can barely keep up—Zoe Morgan, the daughter of one Orexis’s biggest stockholders and one of the most popular seniors at my high school. Since she’s two years older than me and way above my popularity status, my only personal contact with her has been at corporate, family events. But it’s well acknowledged in school that every boy lusts after her great figure, flawless mocha-colored skin, and long, raven-black hair. And tonight, her ivory spaghetti-strap dress and elaborate updo make her look even more perfect than usual.
“You’re here!” Patrick says to me as he finishes saying hello to his mother’s friends and business partners. He wraps me up in one of his signature bear hugs, and the part of me that just wished he’d leave me alone clamps its mouth shut. “You look amazing,” he whispers in my ear.
“Thanks to Alessandra Cole.” I pull away and pick up the skirt of my dress, then playfully dip into a curtsy.
Patrick laughs. “Did you learn that from a princess or something?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
Patrick does the gentlemanly thing and nods at Zoe. “You two know each other, right?”
I extend my hand toward Zoe and she shakes it.
“Yeah, it’s good to see you, Zoe,” I say.
“You too,” she replies with a smile that’s nothing but genuine. “That dress is a knockout, by the way.”
“Oh, this?” I say. “I just . . . threw it on.”
Zoe laughs good-naturedly at my lame joke, but when Patrick puts his arm around me, her smile fades a little bit.
“I’m so glad you could come,” he says to me. “Is your mom—”
“She had to work tonight,” I blurt out.
I’m not proud of myself for lying just now, but the thought of Zoe Morgan knowing my personal business makes me queasy for some reason. Patrick gives me a quick squeeze, signaling that he understands, and graciously changes the subject.
“So did you scare Josh off or something?” he asks me.
“Who?”
“Mr. Buzz Cut,” Zoe adds, grinning. “You were standing next to him a minute ago.”
I peer over my shoulder and my stomach tightens. The boy I was staring at has completely disappeared.
“Oh, I didn’t notice,” I fib.
“How is that possible? That boy is one-hundred percent man candy,” Zoe says with an easygoing laugh.
“Man candy? I wouldn’t go that far,” Patrick says with a slight twinge of annoyance.
“Don’t worry, you’re still the most eligible bachelor in the country,” Zoe teases him.
I can’t help but smirk. I’m so used to girls fawning over Patrick that it’s nice to see him with someone who can hold her own.
“You saw the splash page on Celebrity.com, didn’t you, Regan?” she asks me.
“Of course. Patrick sent me the link the second it went live,” I joke.
“No, I didn’t,” he protests, as if embarrassed.
Zoe smiles and laughs flirtatiously, touching his elbow delicately with her well-manicured fingers. “I’m going to freshen up; try not to miss me,” she says, all elegance and sass.
When Zoe is out of range, I pull away from Patrick and gently nudge him in the ribs.
“She’s really nice, Pat.”
“She is nice. She’s just been following me around all night.”
I elbow him again. “Maybe she just wants to get to know you.”
“Yeah, well, there’s only one person who’ll ever really know me, and that’s all I need,” Patrick replies.
I know he means me, and it’s a sweet thing to say. But it leaves me feeling like a spotlight has just landed on me and everyone expects me to do something I can’t, like . . . sing the national anthem without sounding like a frog.
“Well, what about this friend of yours? Josh. How well does he know you?”
“Remember that sleepaway tech camp I went to?” he answers.