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I avoided the kitchen at all costs, meaning I had to weave my way through the crowd of people that looked to have doubled since I first arrived. They hadn't, but it felt that way after growing accustomed to the privacy on the terrace.
Still, even after muttering excuse me what seemed like a hundred times, I didn't see anyone I knew. Well, I did glimpse Tommy Bracco talking to a flock of giggling girls and who I thought was Mike Ryan. But he disappeared just as soon as I had seen him. But it didn't really matter. Even if I had met him before, I wouldn't have the courage to strike up a conversation with him.
My mind was still fuming over the talk I'd had with Ethan. Maybe he was only teasing me and trying to stir up a reaction? That theory seemed highly unlikely, considering he didn't even know me. But honestly, after that interrogation, I was okay with that.
"Angelina!"
I stopped in my tracks, which was unfortunately right by the speakers. Did someone just call my name? It would've been useless to turn around, because the odds of me actually finding the caller would have been like trying to retrieve a needle in a haystack. Besides, there were probably a lot of Angelinas at this party. (Which I was secretly regretting ever coming to.)
"Angelina!"
I heard it again. I couldn't pin point the name because it was muffled by the music. It was almost like a whisper.
"Hey, Angelina!"
A feeling of dread surged through me as I imagined the worst possible scenario. Was it Sky? I closed my eyes and clenched my fists, praying it was anyone but him. Which was a very different attitude I had compared to when I first got here.
Then I felt someone touch my arm. I turned around and, much to my relief, was staring into a familiar pair of brown doe eyes. It was Josh.
"Hey, Angelina!" he shouted over "Easy Street".
"Oh, hi, Josh," I yelled back, plugging my ear with my one finger.
"There are some people I want to introduce you to."
I nodded and followed him into a different room in his apartment. It was more quiet and held less people than the living room, which I was grateful for.
"Hey, guys," Josh said as we entered into what I assumed to be an office of sorts. There were a couple of chairs and sturdy, wooden desks. Paintings in frames hung on the walls and plastic plants decorated the corners. It was unusually big for an office, but I didn't really pay much attention to it after I saw who occupied it.
Sitting down in one of the chairs, her gorgeous blonde hair twisted into a slick bun, was Stephanie Styles. Her lips were painted an attractive red and formed a pleasant smile. Though I thought it inhumanly possible, she was even prettier in person.
Her eyes were focused on a man conversing beside her, who I recognized as Zachary Sayle. His glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, which I noticed he constantly had to readjust, and sported a grey vest, white undershirt, and matching grey slacks.
