Glass Heart Hero: A Dark High School Romance by Lindsey Iler (read with me .TXT) 📗

corner. Alcohol at the front. DJ on the side wall. Request a song for your demise, for all I care.”

The spotlight goes dark.

“Here you go,” Delaney whispers, placing a flashlight in my hand.

“Do you know what it is?” I whisper in her ear, completely free to behave as if no one is watching. We are cast in complete darkness. We may as well be alone.

“If I did, don’t you think I’d have warned you?” she sighs, holding onto my hand with the flashlight stuck between us. “I don’t like this as much as you don’t. I know you’re mad at me, but seriously, give me a little more credit than that.”

I place my hand on her arm, leaning in closer. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Yeah, and you could stop this, if you really wanted to, but here we are.” I break our touch first, hating not being able to see the look in her eyes when I do.

“I know I keep asking this, but what’s the plan?” Dixon says.

“There is no plan. He wants me to play his game, so I’ll play.”

“You have no idea what’s waiting for you in here,” Palmer states the obvious.

“You’re right, so I need you”—I look in Marek’s direction even though he can’t see me—“to keep her safe. I won’t be able to focus on whatever this is if she’s roaming around.”

“What about me?” Dixon questions.

“Be on standby. I may need you. I don’t know what I’m up against.” I pat him on the shoulder, knowing he’s to my right. “Tripp will try to outsmart me because he thinks he’s just that. Smarter. But he’s not. He’ll slip up along the way, and when he does, I’ll be able to keep my secret hidden.”

“I could kick some ass, so you know,” Palmer protests.

“We know, baby, but let’s respect Break’s wishes,” Marek says, hopefulness and love in his words as he speaks to her. I often wonder when that shifted into place for him. “We’ll be getting a drink to calm this one’s nerves. One shout and I’ll be wherever you need me.”

The music pumps through the speakers placed around the room, echoing off the walls, and the DJ announces for flashlights to be turned on.

As one, they flare to life, and the crowd starts to dance, jumping up and down to the beat. Their different colored beams light up the room like a laser show. Blues, greens, purples, and pinks bounce off each other, making a spectacle for the party goers. Have they been practicing this?

I move through the crowd, unsure of what I’m searching for. Is it a piece of paper, folded up somewhere? Will it be in someone’s pocket? I’m lost in a room of people too consumed with a party to care that a guy is fighting to keep a secret under wraps.

Tripp DuPont isn’t someone to be messed with. I know firsthand of his violent outbursts, witnessed the other side of his perfect and pressed shirts. He’s grimy, and I wouldn’t put anything past him. If he claims to know something, then I have to believe him. It’s the only way this works. His use of Madison is a nice touch. He knows me seeing her would throw me off.

The bobbing lights make moving through the room easier. Being on borrowed time, I shuffle between dancing couples and stop at the alcohol first. I search the table high and low but come up empty-handed. Fuck.

“We already checked. There’s nothing!” Palmer yells. She’s tucked between Marek’s legs in the corner, hidden away where I need her to be. If she’s out in this mess, I won’t be able to concentrate. Being associated with me puts an instant target on her. I’d be worried for her best friend if she didn’t have a fast track to the one causing the chaos.

Between flashlights flipping on and off, I search the other tables. Nothing would be easier than putting it in plain sight. Tripp is smarter than that. A burst of light floods the room, and I see him grinning at me from across the makeshift dance floor. He raises his hand, signaling the DJ to have everyone cut the lights.

As I make my way around, I talk to anyone and everyone. No one has what I’m looking for. Frustrated with myself for not knowing what to do, I crouch down and stop to think.

When the flashlights come on again, my low position conceals me but gives me a perfect view of everyone else. I push to my feet, facing away from Tripp, hoping he sees me walking in the opposite direction.

“Why does she have my jacket?” I ask Palmer.

“She came over to talk to us and said she was cold. I gave it to her. Sorry, Break. She’s my best friend. I don’t know why I did it,” Palmer explains, but none is needed. I’d give Delaney the shirt straight off my back if she asked.

“He must think I’m so stupid,” I mutter to myself. “Call Dixon. Tell him I need him, and I’m at the front, partaking in the extras.”

I walk away from them, a sudden sense of calm taking over as I make my way to the table in the corner. Only kids from Hollow Hill could set up a table full of drugs inside their school and get away with it. At Glass Heart, our illegal activity is done in the quiet. We prefer to be less like a shiny piece of metal, drawing attention to us, and more like a black stone at the bottom of a quarry. Not Hollow Hill students. It’s like they’re wanting to be caught.

Taking advantage of a temporary burst of light, I make a show of grabbing a pre-rolled joint and lighting it. I lean against the brick wall, kicking up one of my feet as I inhale the shittiest weed I’ve ever smoked, while having too much fun figuring out Tripp DuPont’s game.

“Enjoying yourself?” Dixon snatches the joint from between my