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Twenty-One

More than any other time in my life, I can say with certainty that I have no fucking idea what in the world I’m doing. Which, so far, seems to be the theme of my day. “What are you doing, Saylor?” I mutter, throwing myself back against my seat. I’ve been at the restaurant now for a solid ten minutes, and the whole time I’ve been here hiding in my car, I’ve made sure no one walking in could see me.

Hopefully.

I could still run away, after all. There’s a tiny part of me screaming about the fact I’m going to dinner withserial killers. Plus, the one I care about the most has a penchant for horror history’s goriest, nastiest weapon.

I’m probably insane, if I had to guess. Maybe I hit my head between the night at the preserve and now, because this is possibly the worst decision I’ve ever made. By far.

On the bright side, I look better now than I did at the preserve, or at Jed’s house. My hair is brushed and back in a half-up ponytail. Thanks to having my bathroom at my disposal, I’d been able to even curl it some and put on eyeliner. Any moremakeup than that would’ve been too much, and disingenuous to what I normally have the motivation for on a daily basis.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I mutter to the backs of my eyelids. Even in clothes that make me look less like a traveling hobo, I still have absolutely no confidence in what I’m about to do. Dressed in a short black skirt, black boots, a tucked in black shirt, and my favorite jacket, I should feel at least okay about myself.

Instead, I feel like I’m dressed in a paper bag.

On the other hand, I’ve made it this far. And I know for certain that if I go home now without even going inside, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

Even if the guy I’ve dressed up for is a serial killer. That part will never not bother me, I’ve decided. But something about his face, and the way Jed had treated me, makes my heart ache to get over the small, itty bitty sticking point of him murdering the shit out of people with a chainsaw.

Either way, I need to make a decision now. Because there won’t be any going back, no matter what I choose.

You’re a safe option person,my brain tells me comfortingly. And…she’s right. I’ve always picked the safer option, from clothing to my job. Never having the guts to take the risky path. I like to know that my path is as secure as I can make it, and that there’s very little risk involved. Maybe it’s boring and a little disappointing, but at least I’ve never been in a situation I couldn’t get myself through. Not to mention, I’ve never been low on money when rent time rolled around, or when I needed to go grocery shopping.

Safe is…well,safe. It’s an attractive option for a reason.

But going in there right now and confronting Jed is the absolute opposite of safe. It’s dangerous and risky, for all the reasons that parade through my head to the tune of “Night On Bald Mountain.”Hell, I’m even sure the devil is dancing in hismountain somewhere inside my skull, egging on the fears and worries of my choice.

I should go home. Live safely. Coerce my plants to come back to life and wait for my step-mother to call.

But instead of turning the key in the ignition, I yank it out and stuff my keys in the pocket of my jacket. Next I pocket my phone, and before I know it, I’m kicking open my door and all but slamming it shut. Then, after a quick apology to Miss Roxie Hart for my rough treatment of her, I walk toward the door like I’m James Bond on a mission to rescue his love interest in that particular movie.

I don’t expect the restaurant to be so nice. Not even when I’d been staring at The Cascades’ exterior and patio for the past ten minutes from the safety of my Jeep. A chandelier in the small entryway catches my attention, and soon my eyes are drawn to the glass-walled wine room not too far away and the dark, sultry interior of the place.

Yeah, I’ve definitely never been anywhere as nice as here. Except maybe for the one dinner I joined my Dad and step-mom for one of their anniversary celebrations.

“Can I help you?” The hostess is polite, and beams at me from the stand. Dressed in black and white with a tidily knotted tie that sits perfectly at her throat, she’s every bit as polished as the restaurant itself.

“I’m…meeting some people here,” I murmur, giving her a wide-eyed, nervous look.

Her confusion lasts only a moment, before her smile widens. “You’re with Wren’s party, right?” she asks, a small chuckle in her voice. “He said he might have someone else coming. And that she might be a little nervous.”

“Nervous is probably just him being nice,” I mutter, pulling on the edges of my skirt and suddenly feeling simultaneously over and under-dressed. Butterflies take flight in my stomach,but it’s not a cute or comforting feeling. In fact, it makes me nauseous.

“You’ll be fine,” she assures me, coming around the hostess stand. “Come on. I’ll take you to their table.” Breezing through the restaurant in between the bar and booths, she takes me in an L-shape until we’re in another room, only filled by four bigger tables that each have their own corner of the room.

Immediately, my eyes lock on Wren’s table. It’s a large booth, with half of the seats facing my way and another bench facing the other. It looks like it could easily fit eight, but tonight, there are only four people there.

Wren sees me first. He and the girl, a blonde-haired woman who looks about my age, are the two people facing me, while the other two face them. Wren grins, and nudges the girl, who glances up at me with some surprise. Within seconds, though, she smiles and says something to Wren, nudging him back the same way he had her.

“I know I said I brought you here for your pity party, Jed,” Wren begins, when I’m close enough to hear. “But I really hope you’re okay with me inviting someone else to join us.”

Jed.I should’ve realized the tousled blond hair facing away from me was his. But I’d been too focused on being nervous and counting my heartbeats to make sure I’m not about to stroke out.

“Who…” Jed trails off when he turns to look at me, and for the first time in the week I’ve known him, he looks absolutely lost for words. It does nothing for my nerves, and I can feel my fingers twisting in my skirt as the waitress says something and walks away. “Saylor,” he murmurs finally, still with that unreadable gaze.

“Hi.” I don’t know what else to say. My heart pounds in my throat as I stare down at him, unsure he even wants me here. Glancing at Wren for help, I see that he’s beaming, and his eyes flick between us. “I don’t…if you would rather that I leave?—”

“No.” Jed is quick to cut me off before I can finish. He surges to his feet, ending up right in front of me without much space between us. “No, I…” It’s like he can’t believe I’m here. Which I’m sure of in the next moment when he reaches out to brush his fingers along my arm as if he needs reassurance I’m not a hallucination. “You came,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving mine.