“How did you do it?” Jeremy said, setting out a pen and paper from his backpack as if to take notes.
“Turns out I’m an astral telepath,” she said. “Clint’s going to help me control it. Don’t worry, I won’t always be reading your thoughts.”
“Hold on,” Molly said. “You’re studying with Professor Corbett one-on-one?”
“He rarely takes on individual students,” Jeremy added.
Out of the corner of her eye, Teddy looked at Pyro, who had been silent since she sat down; she willed him to help her change the subject. Though he’d been the one to rescue her earlier, now he put his hands up as if to say “Don’t look at me.”
Fine. If that’s how he wants to play it.
Teddy turned back to her dinner tray. She was starving. She’d skipped lunch, but it was more than that—she felt drained.
“Anyway, Teddy’s a star, and we should celebrate,” Jillian said. “I’d like to toast with something shaken, stirred, or on the rocks.” She slid a glass of wheatgrass to the edge of her tray. “Let’s go to the Cantina.”
Dara laughed. “What do you say, Teddy? Are you game?”
She was exhausted, but she needed to take her mind off of walls and astral bodies, Liz Cook’s complaints, and Molly’s secrets. And the only way Teddy knew how to do that was via booze and boys. Teddy tried to catch Pyro’s eye again, but he was focused on his wheatgrass. “I’m in,” she said.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
IT WAS A BREEZY NIGHT. The wind blew off the bay as Teddy and her friends crowded around a table at the Cantina. The stars were bright, the margaritas were cold, her friends were loud. She felt like she could sit in this spot forever.
Since they weren’t supposed to mention Whitfield when they were off campus, Dara turned their conversations into a drinking game: anyone who let anything slip about their lessons had to take a shot. Even the most oblique reference was off limits, as there were civilians nearby. One man in particular caught Teddy’s attention. He was hanging out by a railing, but he was standing so close and so still that it seemed possible he was listening to their conversation.
“What about you, Teddy?” Dara asked.
“Me?” she said, only vaguely aware that they had been talking about boys. Or maybe not. The margaritas had made the conversations sound fuzzy and distant.
Dara tsked, impatient. “Have a crush on anyone?” she said.
Teddy looked at Pyro, beside her. She placed her hand on Pyro’s lower back, then felt him tense. She promptly removed her hand. They hadn’t exactly spoken about that night, but she assumed Pyro would welcome a friend with occasional benefits. Apparently, she’d misread things.
Teddy took a long sip of her margarita. “I’ll let you know when I do.”
Jillian laughed. “As if it wasn’t the two of you who set off the fire alarm in the dorm our first week.”
Pyro grabbed one of the shots lined up in the middle of the table and pushed it toward Jillian. “That counts.”
“I didn’t say the name of the dorm,” she protested. “We could go to any school.”
He nudged the shot a little closer. “Hey, I don’t make the rules.”
“Whatever,” she said.
“I’ll take one, too,” Teddy said. She downed the shot in a single gulp.
Teddy missed the table when she slammed her shot glass back down. It went tumbling onto the wooden floor, and then off it rolled as if on a mission. She rose, intending to chase it. But the glass came to a stop when it reached the polished dress shoe of the man she’d noticed earlier.
He bent to pick it up and handed it to Teddy. She opened her mouth to say thanks, but when she looked at his face, she stopped cold.
She knew this guy.
Teddy closed her eyes for a second, trying to place him. Athletic. But not in a vain gym-rat way. No, this guy was almost rugged. He wore a blue oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She glanced down at his hand, wrapped around the neck of a Dos Equis bottle. As she stared at the corded muscles of his arm, it came to her.
“Oh, God,” she said. “It’s you.”
He smiled. “Plain ol’ Nick.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked. She’d lost all her money to this guy that night back at the Bellagio. She assumed she’d never see him again. Yet here he was on Angel Island. Nothing about it made sense. Her mind swam from the alcohol. Had he been Sergei’s plant at the table months ago? Meant to push her to bet more? Was Sergei tracking her now? She suddenly wished she were sober enough to understand how a coincidence like this could happen.
He held up his bottle. “Having a beer.”
“You know what I mean,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I work nearby.”
Now, that was weird. Who worked on Angel Island? “What are you—a park ranger?”
He laughed. “Hardly.”
“You’re very . . . vague.”
“Am I?”
“There you go again.”
“Hey, Teddy!” Dara called.
“So it’s not TeAnne?” he said, his mouth serious but his eyes smiling.
“It’s actually Teddy,” she said, putting a hand on his chest to steady herself. “I’m usually not like this—” She stopped herself mid-thought. “You have a hell of a memory.”
“It’s part of my job,” he said, and she noticed that he didn’t back away, didn’t remove her hand. Not like Pyro. This was promising.
“Which is . . . ?” she prompted, and then stopped herself. “Never mind. Don’t tell me. I like the mystery.” She tried to take a step closer but lost her balance. He caught her with one arm, and their faces were so close she thought he was going to kiss her. She closed her eyes.
But then nothing. He removed his arm, set his beer on the railing, and used both hands to straighten her shoulders. “You okay?” he asked.
“Better than okay.”
“I think your friends are waiting for you.”
She glanced over her shoulder and saw Pyro glaring so hard that it seemed like he might set the whole
