Page 60 of Flickerstate

“I’m going to go wish Vik happy birthday,” I say.

“Oh,” Bree smirks knowingly. “Okay.”

Before I can snap defensively, Candace hooks an arm around Bree and steers her toward the door.Well played, Candace.

Jacqueline smiles as I edge into the corner she, Antoine, and Vik have claimed. “Cool eye shadow. Where’d you get it?”

“My blockmate’s bag,” I say.

To kill time while we waited to be late, Candace insisted on dolling up me and Bree. She brushed a lot of shimmery bronze powder on my eyelids—more makeup than I’ve worn since my eighth-grade goth phase.

Jacqueline laughs. “Best place to shop.”

“You look nice,” Vik says, sounding like he’s remarking on the weather.

“I always look nice,” I say, aiming for confident banter and hittingpuppy’s squeak toyinstead. “That’s my face.”

“True,” he says, again like he’s agreeing it’s sunny outside.

We need to talk about something else before I combust from pleased embarrassment. “Vik and I were planning to discuss books,but I don’t want to derail your conversation. What were you guys talking about?”

Jacqueline rolls her eyes. “The trials. Like anyone talks about anything else.”

Antoine smiles at her. “You talked about makeup.”

“For one whole second. What books were you going to talk about, Vik?”

“The ones about which we feel complex, cerebral ambivalence.” He keeps a straight face, but his eyes crinkle at the edges.

“Pretentious. I love it,” she says. “Can I start?”

One by one, we share our hot takes. As the party gets louder, we huddle closer. My shoulder ends up pressed against the hard muscle of Vik’s arm. I force my eyes not to widen and pretend his surprisingly encyclopedic knowledge of literary horror has my whole attention.

“To recap,” I say, “you think any difference between high and low culture vanished before we were born. But I’m wondering—one of your favorite books is calledMy Heart Is a Chainsaw. Should we be worried?”

He locks eyes with me and deadpans, “Very.”

My entire body blushes.

Someone taps my shoulder. I whip around like I’m guilty of something.

It’s Griffin, looking expectant. “Thought you weren’t coming. Want to dance?”

“Uh,” I say. “Mirabel was right about that one. I do not dance.”

“Want to go laugh at other people’s dancing?”

I’d rather stay in this warm circle of conversation, pressed against Vik’s arm. But Griffin asked me nicely enough. “I’ve got no leg to stand on when it comes to laughing at other people’s dancing. But I’ll check it out with you.”

“Excellent.”

When I glance back at Vik, his eyes are still on me. “Happy birthday,” I say.

“Bye,” he says quietly.

I wave to Jacqueline and Antoine and head off. As Griffin and I walk through the door, he places a hand on my back. I’m not sure how to react. Is this a thing rich boys from Connecticut do? His hand slips away after a second, so I let it go without comment.

“I’ve got no leg to stand on either.” Griffin raises his voice over the music. “I laugh anyway.”