Epic Adventures of Lydia Bennet (9781476763248) (27 page)

“Not really,” Casey said, grimacing. “People sort of fall away, you know? It's why I was soooo glad you reached out on Facebook. There's a ton of people in New York, but so few of them seem worth knowing. So, tomorrow? There's this spoken-word poetry thing at the bar next door, it could be fun. . . .”

I wish I could tell you how the rest of the conversation went, but I was mostly zoning in and out after that, considering the possibility of a future featuring me, two rats, and spoken-word poetry. Oh, and no plan for my life beyond freelancing and lying on my résumé.

“I'll be right back,” I said, standing up suddenly and taking off for the restroom without waiting for a response.

If the restaurant was tiny, the bathroom was even more cramped,
featuring only one stall and a sink/counter combo that took up half the space on its own. The stall was occupado, but at least I had the sink area where I could shuffle/pace, wondering how my trip had become such a bust so quickly.

The way I see it, I have two options. I can suck it up and listen to Casey talk about trying to get a book deal from training rats to do tricks on camera while contemplating the likelihood of a depressing and unfulfilling future. Or I can come up with an “emergency” and go watch insect documentaries with Allison. While contemplating the likelihood of a depressing and unfulfilling future.

At least that one includes TV.

I heard the toilet flush and I turned toward the mirror, pretending to check my reflection so it didn't look like I was just casually hanging out in a bathroom. Which, of course, was exactly what I was doing.

A girl maybe a little bit younger than me with super on-point dark curly hair walked out, and I jumped back toward the wall to avoid getting hit by the stall door.

She moved to the sink, forcing me to squish up against the corner. When she saw I didn't move to take the stall, she glanced at my face and smirked.

“Avoiding someone?”

Guess I was pretty obvious.

“Old high school friend. Who I no longer have anything in common with. And who doesn't seem to realize that.”

“Sounds like a good time.”

“So good I could cry,” I monotoned. “Hey, how well do you think ‘Shit, I totally forgot I have this other random vague engagement right this second' holds up as an excuse to bail?”

She snorted and slowly shook her head. “That one's pretty hit-and-miss.”

I groaned.

“It really that bad?”

“Yes. No. This is just . . . not turning out to be the awesome first trip to New York I had hoped it would be. Sorry, I'm compounding various disappointments. And venting to a stranger in a tiny bathroom.”

“What are tiny bathrooms for?”

I tried half a smile, but it probably came out as more of a grimace.

“Guess I should go test my excuse in the real world,” I said, pushing myself off the wall. “Wish me luck.”

A minute later, I was back at the table with Casey, who immediately picked up her story where she left off.

“So, where was I? Oh, yeah, I had one audition for a commercial, and I thought, I don't want to be in commercials, I want to be on the stage. I walked out before I even read—”

“I'm so sorry,” I interrupted. “I totally forgot I'd made plans with a friend who's in town. She leaves first thing tomorrow, otherwise I'd reschedule, but . . .” I trailed off, hoping she got the point.

“Oh. What time are you meeting her?”

Dammit, I had no clue what time it was, and pulling out my phone to check would be too obvious. Let's see . . . I met Casey at seven thirty, it definitely has to have been almost two hours at this point, so maybe . . .

“Ten?”

Casey pressed a button on her phone and my heart sank as it lit up on the table in front of us.

“Perfect!” she said, smiling. “It's only eight fifteen. We've got time for at least another drink.”

“Actually—” I rushed, as she started to stand. “I'm meeting her back in Brooklyn.”
What parts of Brooklyn are far away? Think, Lydia! Stupid city I don't know well.
“Um, like pretty far away . . . in Brooklyn—”

“Sorry I'm late.” It took me a second to realize the voice that spoke was both nearby and connected to a body that had stopped right next to our table. And that it sounded familiar.

I looked up to find myself staring at the face of the guy from the park.

The one with the upside-down bridge.

He recognized me, but recovered more quickly than I did.

“I'm Milo,” he said, extending his hand toward Casey. “Lydia's boyfriend.”

Lydia's
what
?

“Um . . .” I started. “This is Casey, Milo.”

“I wanted to let you guys finish chatting,” Milo(?) said. “But Kat swears we'll be late if we don't leave now.” He jerked his head toward the bar, and I swiveled around in my chair to see the girl with the dark curly hair from the bathroom waving at us.

“Oh . . .” I said, finally catching on. “Right! She's right. We were just having such a good time, I was hoping we could get in just one more drink. But she's definitely right. Darn.”

I stood up, fishing my wallet out of my purse and pulling out enough money to cover my half.

“No, no, no,” Casey protested. “My treat. Or my parents'.”

“No, that's really—” I started.

“Nice of you,” Milo cut me off. “And it was very nice to meet you, Casey.” He slid his arm around my waist, barely touching, and started to guide me down the walkway away from the table.

“Okay?” Casey replied, a touch of confusion still lingering. “Maybe I'll see you again before you go home?”

“Yeah, I'm pretty busy with Jane, but we'll talk on Facebook!” I called back as I followed Milo's lead. I think she said something else, but we were already at the door.

Milo dropped his arm as Kat joined us.

“You looked like you needed some help with that,” she whispered to me.

“Thanks.”

I stepped out onto the sidewalk and paused, trying to reconcile my surroundings with my memory of getting here.

“You taking the subway?” Kat asked.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said.

“Lexington line is this way.” Milo nodded toward the direction I'm pretty sure I didn't come from, but the subway's all connected somehow, right?

“Do you just go around pretending to be random pseudo-strangers' boyfriend often?” I asked, quickening my pace to keep up with them.

“Yes, actually,” Milo said.

I opened my mouth to start to pry further, but changed direction. “Sorry, I forgot you don't like questions.”

“It's not that I don't like questions, just that I like bridges more,” he said.

“Am I missing something?” Kat asked, peering around Milo to glance back and forth between us.

“Your latest rescue was watching me sketch in the park the other day.”

“I wasn't
watching
you—you sat down right in front of me. I tried to be polite and make conversation.”

“Well, we're making conversation now, aren't we?”

“I didn't mean for you to track me down and pretend to be my boyfriend.”

“Hey, that was Kat's idea.”

“Not that I'm ungrateful for the out, but this is starting to feel more and more like some bizarre con-artist situation,” I pointed out, quietly feeling alongside the top of my bag to see if it was zipped.

“It's just something we do sometimes,” Kat said. “Usually on the subway or something, when a guy is clearly bothering some girl, you go act like you know her so he'll go away.”

“That's . . . cool of you,” I said, thinking back over all the times that would have come in handy at Carter's. Some drunk dudes cannot take disinterest at face value.

“There's a lot of shitty people around. Gotta watch out for each other.”

“Well, Casey's not shitty, just . . . boring.”

“I'm sorry, do you want to go back?” Milo teased, pointing back to where we came from.

“Only if you get me really drunk first,” I said, then realized how that sounded. “Not that I want you to get me drunk. Or that I want you to take me back. I'm good right here, and . . . sober.”

“If you say so,” Milo agreed.

We crossed the street and I realized we'd already made it to the subway station. I looked at the sign as I followed them down the steps.

“We're headed south. You?” Kat asked.

“North, I think,” I said, knowing that much even if I was a little iffy on the rest. I'd figure it out. Hopefully. “Thanks again for the save.”

“No problem,” she said.

“And good luck with your bridges,” I told Milo.

He nodded. “Tell Jane I said hello.” Wow, good memory for names.

“She had to go out of town for work,” I replied before wondering why I felt the need to tell him that.

“While you're visiting?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Yeah, spur-of-the-moment thing.”

We stood there for a second, and Kat's eyes moved from Milo to me.

“You know,” Kat started, “we're going to a party. Nothing crazy, but it sounds like your bar for fun in New York is pretty low right now. Wanna come?”

I know I kind of swore off partying for a while after the whole Cody thing, even if not in quite so many words. And running off with strangers while alone in a big city probably isn't the most advisable thing. Especially after that documentary. But my other options at the moment suck, and it's not like we're in the middle of a dark forest where it would be super easy to chop me up into little pieces and go all cannibal on me or anything. Right?

“Um, okay. Hold on.” I held my phone up and clicked a quick photo of them. “Collateral,” I explained, typing out my email address and sending a copy of the picture to myself. “If I go missing, the police will hack into my email and see that you guys were the last people to see me.”

Kat laughed. “Can't argue with that.”

“Well, there goes our brilliant kidnapping scheme,” Milo said, and Kat smacked him in the arm. He winked at me as he swiped his MetroCard and walked backward through the turnstile.

It took me the entire subway ride to remember I'm not supposed to like winky faces.

Not gonna lie, when they said we were going to a party, I expected somebody's dorm with frat boys doing Jell-O shots out of girls' belly buttons. Sure, I knew college had to be a little bit different here, but I just thought that meant maybe the frat boys would be wearing hipster glasses and doing Jell-O shots off other dudes rather than girls.

Instead, as we got to the eighth and top floor—via elevator, thank
God
—of a building on a quiet street in what Kat said was the financial district, I got a little nervous when I realized there was no music noticeably pumping out from behind any of the doors, signifying where the supposed party was happening.

Reassuring myself my photo-if-kidnapped plan was foolproof, I let them lead me to a door at the end of the hallway, where Milo paused.

“We should probably warn you, it's kind of a themed party.”

“Themed?” I asked, glancing over my clothes and then at theirs.
I certainly wasn't dressed appropriately for any kind of theme, and neither were they, as far as I could tell.

Before she could answer, the door swung open and a small brunette (also dressed in totally normal clothing, phew) appeared in the doorway.

“You made it!” she squealed, reaching forward to hug first Kat—“Well, you always do”—and then Milo—“but you haven't been around in ages.”

“You know how weekends are at work,” he said. “Yet somehow these things are always on Saturdays.”

“Oh, you mean when normal people have parties? Never mind, I'm glad we were able to do a last Monday hurrah before classes start back up.”

“Uh, some of us already had classes start, thank you?” Kat said, but the girl waved her off as she thrust her hand out at me.

“Hi! I'm Stephanie,” she said.

“This is Lydia,” Kat introduced me before I had the chance. “New friend.”

“Cool! Good to have new people for this.”

New people for this? Is this some sort of weird sex orgy party? Is it
really
a murder cult?
I tried to peer around Stephanie into the apartment to see if everyone else was naked or chanting in Latin or something.

But out loud I just said, “Hi.”

“Now . . .” Steph said, reaching into her back pocket and bringing out a notepad and pen. She ran the pen down the page slowly, glancing up at all of us critically every so often, finally making three quick strikes across the paper. “Mmkay.”

She moved to the side and Milo took one step into the apartment, leaning down for Stephanie to whisper something into his ear. He nodded and took another step forward so Kat could do the same. It came to be my turn and I hesitated.

“Have they told you the rules?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Kat said.

“They will,” Stephanie said. “Just remember the name I give you and don't say it to anyone.”

I crinkled my forehead as she whispered a name into my ear.

“The theme this time is Disney,” she said to all of us. “There's paper by the window. You guys know the way. And don't forget—phones off once you get to the roof.”

The apartment was mostly empty as we made our way down a narrow hallway (much the same as Jane's place) and into a huge living room (at least twice the size of Jane's place). We stopped in the kitchen.

“First of all, phones off,” Kat said, taking hers out and shutting it down. “Rule of the party is socializing, not social media. Asami—that's Steph's roommate—is really strict about it. Anyone using their phone up top gets put on immediate cleanup duty.”