I roll my eyes and ignore their handsy, drunken PDA. “Kalindi is here too. Where can we get something to drink?”
Margot hiccups. “Can someone please give them some punch?”
Just like that, we are each handed a plastic cup filled with a dark red punch. Kalindi looks into her cup with a frown. But I’m not put off by the alcohol and fruit scents floating up off of the cup’s contents.
“To Stellan and Margot!” I cry, lifting my cup.
Everyone cheers. I take a sip, wincing a little bit. It tastes just like it smells, a ton of fruit flavors layered with a lot of aquavit.
Kalindi tries some and coughs a little, her free hand moving up to cover her mouth. “What is in this?!”
I grin at her. “Bottoms up?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Fine. But only because I’m just catching up…”
I’m already tipping the cup up and letting the alcohol pour down my throat. After a couple more drinks, I’m loose and warm and ready to dance. I lead the way to the dance floor, which was at some earlier point a dining room slash living room.
The hardwood table and matching chairs have been pushed against one wall; the other walls have the white plush couches and chairs seated by them. People are dancing and making out on the couches as I tug Kalindi into the dark space.
We start to dance, feeling the beat of the baseline. I shoot Kalindi a grin. “Keep your eyes peeled for hot guys, okay?”
She laughs. “Hot guys for you. I’m not kissing a stranger tonight.”
“Oh, we’ll see about that!” I yell.
She pulls a face. “I have to find the bathroom. Will you be okay here by yourself?”
I stick my tongue out at her. “I’m obviously completely fine.”
She heads off the dance floor, weaving around a group of particularly exuberant dancers. I watch her go, realizing only after she’s been gone for a minute that I don’t feel like dancing without a partner.
Swiveling my head around, I look for a replacement. What I find though…
A tall, broadly shaped man in the corner is looking right at me. I take a step closer and a grin spreads across my face.
Blond hair, green-brown eyes, tanned skin, and more muscles than he even knows what to do with. It’s none other than Erik, my brother’s stoic best friend. He is still wearing his tux, but he’s ditched the jacket and rolled up his sleeves to reveal his hot as fuck forearms. His gaze is fixed on me, his expression unreadable.
In the nine months that I have been back in Copenhagen, being able to torment Erik is really one of the only bright spots. I mean, I’m glad to have Kal, but she’s so busy with university stuff.
Erik is always around, perpetually insanely handsome, and always so freaking stiff when I talk to him. It’s impossible not to rib him a little.
Or a lot, as the case may be.
I sway my hips as I saunter right up to him. “I didn’t expect to see you here. How have you not turned into a pumpkin, Cinderella?”
His handsome face twitches for just a moment, then he sighs. “I was just about to ask you the same thing, little girl.”
My mouth makes a moue of displeasure. “Don’t hate me for my youth and beauty, you joy kill.”
He scans the room casually, shrugging. “One man’s joy kill is another man’s savior from the brink.”
I roll my eyes. He’s so starched and polished, even here in this room full of drunk idiots making out. “Do you tell yourself that when you go to bed alone every night?”
His greenish-brown eyes rake over me. “Don’t you have a boy your age to torture?”
A sharp laugh is pulled from my lips. “Why would I do that when you’re so much more fun? Taking the starch out of you is so much more… pleasurable.”
He shakes his head at me, turning to move away. It’s instinct to reach out and catch his wrist.
But when he rounds on me, his eyes snapping and crackling with an unexpectedly fierce energy, I gulp. He shakes off my touch like one would a burning brand, glaring at me.
I see his hand flex, tightening to a fist and then relaxing. How he had such an emotional reaction to something so simple as a touch astounds me.
He growls at me. “What are you doing, Annika?”
I pout. “I wasn’t done talking to you.”
He steps up to me, leaning down and getting in my face. “I don’t think that I left it up to you, princess.”
My eyes widen. I’m pretty tall for a girl, almost five foot eight. But he dwarfs my size, his muscular body much more immense than mine could ever be. It’s kind of nice to feel like the fragile one for just a second, even though I’m definitely playing with fire.
My heart starts pounding. If Erik could wound me with those fiery eyes of his, I’d be skewered through.
When I finally find the words, they leave me in a mere whisper. “Now who’s the killer of joy?”
He snorts angrily, turning and storming off. I am left with a frantically beating heart and trembling hands. A few moments later Kalindi returns, looking over her shoulder.
“The bathroom line is so long that I can’t stand in it anymore.” She looks back, then senses my mood. “What? Did I miss something?”
My lips twist sourly. “Not really, no. You just missed The Ghost of Christmas Past, stirring up trouble.”
Kalindi looks puzzled. “I’m sorry, what?”
I pull a face. “I’m talking about Erik.”
“Erik… Erik Moen?”
“The very one.”
Kalindi cocks her head. “Why isn’t he in bed already?”
I burst out laughing. “I said as much to him and he did not take it very well.”
She shrugs. “He is tall and blond and unbelievably handsome… but he has a steel beam lodged up his you know what.”
I grin, rolling my eyes. “Kalindi, you are old enough to say ass.”
I hear a shrill scream from a nearby room. Everybody seems to freeze up, turning toward the sound. Then a loud male voice booms out.
“Politibetjente!”
“Shit,” I mutter. I’m drunk, too drunk to deal with any police.
Without really thinking it through, I grab Kalindi’s hand and start running. Everybody else has the same idea, running out of the house and into the manicured back yard.
What I did not anticipate was the flash of cameras as soon as I step out onto the lawn. I’m blind for a moment as I throw up an arm to guard my eyes.
“What the fuck?” I say, blinking rapidly. When I can see again, I see several paparazzi there about twenty yards away, going crazy taking pictures of me while I’m disoriented. “Fuck!” I shout, trying to shield my face from the paparazzi as best as I can. Kalindi is right there, shielding my face from their view with her tweed jacket.
“Come on,” she cries, tugging me toward the front yard. “Let’s get out of here.”
We run across the spongey green grass to the smoothly paved driveway. My mind is all over the place, mostly focusing on what just happened.
I don’t see any police cars… which means that this was just a paparazzi ploy.
Oh, god. They must have gotten some good pictures of me, standing there with my mouth hanging open, looking totally dazed.
As we climb into the first car we see, I sink down in my seat. Because already, I can hear Stellan’s voice.