Dante is here.
Dante, who couldn't be bothered to show up at his own damn party. This is who sneaked up behind me when I thought I'd finally found a moment of privacy. Immediately, rage boils up in me.
"What the hell are you doing out here?" I say, ignoring the jolt of pain in my ankle as I shift my weight. "You scared the crap out of me!"
"I'm sorry," he says, and there's a hint of wicked amusement in his voice. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"It's not polite to sneak up on people," I snap. Beneath the anger, I feel something else - a sudden panic that threatens to drown out everything else. I wasn't prepared to run into Dante out here. Without Jack. With my hair sopping wet and my dress sticking to my skin. My anger is all I have, so I cling to it.