Nightfallen

The Hunting Grounds

"Weird being in a bar without a drink," the college guy said, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd and music.

I batted my lashes, gave him a smile. "Are you offering?"

"Not yet, though the Southern accent makes it tempting," he said between sips of his beer.

"That's all right. Would you believe me if I said I wasn't really thirsty?" I said, which was a lie.

He was handsome, and knew it, so he had no problem taking a petite thing like me in stride. "I don't believe you're old enough to be in here legally. How'd you get past the bouncer?"

"My eyes," I said, which was true.

A sideways glance from him. "Sure."

"I suppose it could have been my body, though. What do you think?" I leaned into him. At six three, he towered over me. My breasts were probably pushing into his belly button. He didn't seem to mind.

I didn't either. He was thick and muscular, the way only juniors and seniors seem to manage. Less boy-like than underclassmen. His warmth I could feel even through my leather jacket, like the memory of a setting autumn sun.

I loved anything warm. It was why I came to bars like the Grogg. Cramped with a fire hazard's worth of people, it was practically a sauna.

He gave me a gentle push. "What, are you fishing for compliments?"

Oh, he was good at this. "I could get that from others if I'm making you uncomfortable. Your friends maybe," I said.

He turned and looked at some guys by the bar. I'd seen him detach from the four of them as he'd approached me. They were built as well, most sporting varsity wrestling T-shirts or sweatshirts. They were staring at us, laughing, waiting to see if their friend crashed and burned or left here with me.

"You look really young, but you don't seem clueless as a high school kid or freshman."

"What do you mean?" I asked, definitely fishing for compliments this time.

"Theway you're talking to me. The way you carry yourself, even though you're herealone. You seem older. So tell me, are you a Ramsgate undergrad or what?"

"Any woman that's worthwhile ought to be a mystery." It was something my mother once told me.

"Yeah, well, some girls that are mysterious about their age can get a guy arrested."

"Poor thing. Would you be more confident if I told you I was at least eighteen?"

"Nah. I think you're lying," he said.

"I'll show you my license." I handed it to him.

"You look pale in your photo. Tanning much these days?"

"More iron in my diet."

Still scanning the license, he rolled his eyes. "It's a learner's permit."

"Check the DOB."

He did. "So you're telling me the truth. But that thing expired a year ago. Your parents give you a lift, or did you take a school bus?" he said, handing the license back.

I didn't ruin our playful banter by mentioning that my parents were dead. "There's no school bus on Saturdays, silly."

"I'm Dave, by the way."

I hadn't wanted to know his name, but smiled anyway. "Nice to meet you."

He killed his beer. "So. Should I get another, or is there something at your place?"

"My place," I said. "I'm kind of over this crowd."

Dave placed his arm around me, all protective-like, and we were walking out when I saw him.

From the corner of my eye, a man in a black overcoat. His baseball cap was black as well, pulled low over his eyes, ARMY stitched in gold on it. But I knew he wasn't any ROTC.

He stood looking at me. I saw him as he must have seen me: a black, empty space against the backdrop of life surrounding us.

Dave noticed my gaze. "Someone you know?" he asked.

"Come on," I said, grabbing Dave's arm tighter as we left the bar.