“Was it that bad?” Serena asked.

Russell gave her a deadpan stare. “What do you think?”

She turned away, biting her lip as she tried to keep herself from laughing.

He grunted and looked elsewhere. They had taken a break next to a white column, yet he felt trapped in place with his arm still wrapped around hers. How long had it been since she forced him to undergo this torture?

He examined the new venue she had brought him into. The lounge bar doubled as a restaurant, and it looked even cozier than the clubhouse lobby. The space was tight. The dining tables, chairs, and lounge seats all appeared occupied. He watched the crowd around him as they drank and dined, the attendees of the reunion having filled the room to capacity.

Serena had acted as a gracious hostess, his personal escort in the sea of strangers. Old friends had greeted her with warmth, welcoming her with smiles and hugs as they made their rounds. She was the town royalty, and everyone else simply acted their part as the common folk. Just a normal night for a Solace.

But what must had been only a couple of minutes for her had felt like hours for him. There had been too many people to meet, too many names to remember. After the first handful of awkward encounters, he had difficulty remembering who was who. He had quickly lost track of people's names and the faces that go with them.

He had still managed to keep the fake smile on his face, which was all that mattered. And it wasn't as if he had been the only one pretending. The sudden frowns and awkward pauses after Serena introduced him to others had been too hard to ignore, even for Serena. Though he had expected no less.

He licked his dry lips as more people surrounded the two of them. They all waited for their chance to greet Serena—even if it meant having to exchange pleasantries with the infamous guy standing next to her. It would’ve been fine if the room didn’t start to feel claustrophobic. Staying so close to everyone had forced him to endure the constant chatter around him, to breathe in the warring scents of different colognes and perfumes. And it didn’t take long before it had all became too much.

Russell leaned his back against the column and shifted his attention beyond the immediate crowd in their midst. To calm his growing anxiety, he pulled his mind away from his surroundings and focused his gaze somewhere far away. By the bar, a female serving staff hauled a tray of topped-up refreshments and appetizers from the serving hatch, leaving behind the bartender all alone to handle a party of boisterous women. The tall counter shielded the poor guy from the bustle of the crowd, and Russell found himself badly wanting to trade places with the bartender.

Perhaps Russell could stay behind the bar by pretending that he worked here. The bartender might not notice anything amiss. But the customers will start asking questions once they realize he had no idea what he was doing, and things would get awkward fast, so he scrapped his foolish idea.

Coincidentally, the same waitress from the bar headed where he and Serena stood. As the server passed by, Russell reached his hand out and swiped a glass from of the tray. He took a deep swig, relishing the same champagne he had enjoyed earlier.

Not long after, he spied a second waiter with another tray of beverages approaching their area. Russell performed another magic trick, swapping his empty glass for a new one, keeping the server unaware of the switch. Smacking his lips, he reveled in his small victory—only for a hand to snatch the flute away from his fingers.

He eyed his companion with a raised eyebrow. Serena sipped from the glass she had stolen, listening to two other women talk, pretending she had done nothing wrong.

Letting out a short sigh, he let his eyes resume their wandering to pass the time, his stomach queasy from both alcohol and worry.

“Looking for a lady by the name of Harper, by any chance?” his lovely thief asked once they were alone.

“I’m looking for Jude, remember?” Russell said, refusing to rise to her bait.

“Sure, sure.” Serena took a sip of her drink as she observed the mass of people. “But weren't you teammates back then?”

“We even played the same position,” he said. It was the reason why he could still remember Jude out of the dozens of teammates he had back then. He only hoped he’d be able to recognize the guy once he found him. If he ever found him.

“Then you of all people should know that he's probably with the rest of the jocks right about now,” she said. “You’ve seen the way they hung out as a group when Brad arrived earlier.”

“Well, that’s great news.”

Serena smiled and nudged him on the shoulder. “Try not to be too excited about it.”

Russell grumbled. He only needed to speak with Jude. Getting reacquainted with the rest wasn't on his bucket list for tonight.

“Speaking of good news, Rosie must’ve forgotten to mention your promotion,” he said, remembering how everyone they met had kept congratulating Serena about it. She basically had her name tag inches from his face only minutes ago, and yet he had failed to put two and two together.

Serena flashed him a grin. “Because I haven’t told her yet. I was planning on surprising her tonight. Guess I’ll just have to settle on telling her all about it tomorrow.”

Before he could congratulate Serena as well, another person approached them. But to his dismay, it wasn't a server this time but a fellow guest, dressed in a simple gray suit and black tie.

Performing her same routine, Serena welcomed him with smiles and salutations, but the guy simply met her with a stern expression. As the stiff suit reached them, he didn’t bother with the pleasantries, leaning in to whisper something in her ear. The smile on her face slowly disappeared. She listened in silence, nodding her head every once in a while in reply.

Russell did not mind being snubbed. Even with Serena by his side, he had lost count of the number of times strangers had treated him with a cold shoulder. He tilted his head, recalling not every person they met was a fellow guest. Half of those she had to talk to were employees needing her for one thing or another. A Friday night meant a busy night for the club, yet Serena had been spending precious minutes from her tight schedule just to escort him around. Did Rosalyn beg her to do this? Did his sister not understand how big of a favor she was asking from her friend?

Russell scratched his cheek. Maybe he could humor Serena for a bit longer.

Serena released a long, suffering sigh as the suit finally left. She turned her attention back to Russell, her smile half-hearted. “Duty calls. Some guests apparently got lost on their way here, and apparently, they're in dire need of saving.”

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“Okay…?” he said, feeling a bit disappointed. “What am I supposed to do now?”

The guy from earlier checked to see if Serena was following behind him, and he shot Russell a frown.

“Up to you, Russ,” Serena said as she walked away. “But try not to get into any trouble while I'm away, you hear?”

“You too?” Russell groaned. “If my sister asks, can you let her know that I didn’t even need a babysitter for tonight?”

Serena swam past enthusiastic guests trying to intercept her left and right. Taking a final look back over her shoulder, she gave him a playful wink before she completed her disappearing act, leaving him alone to fend for himself.

He would be lying if he said he hadn’t appreciated her company. She had gone out of her way to help him reconnect with their fellow alumni. It had been a hopeless cause—he could tell even she had known that from the start—but he couldn't blame her for trying. She had tried really hard, after all.

And you didn't even bother to thank her, Russell admonished himself. You jackass.

But now with Serena gone, he felt it again. The difference. The distance. The subtle glances sent his way began to get on his nerves. He was an island here in a sea of strangers, a pariah in what was supposed to be a social gathering, the only outcast in this entire town.

He tugged at his left sleeve, checking the time on his trusty G-Shock. The digital display indicated it was a few minutes past midnight, causing him to furrow his brows. That couldn’t be right. Had it been that long since he last checked the time? They had spent quite a while socializing with other guests, and he felt as if hours had passed. Of course, he had only meant it in a figurative sense.

The digits on his watch flashed, and the time reset back to midnight.

“Great,” he muttered to himself, slapping his palm against his ‘trusty’ watch a few times. He was going to have to add this as well to his long list of unaffordable spending. Just like that, his already crappy night had gotten even worse.

And still no Jude.

Russell leaned his head back on the pillar and took another look around him. In the distance, a different kind of crowd hung out by the bar. The group comprised of handsome and beautiful individuals, people wearing their wealth like an everyday outfit. And they commanded the attention of everyone in the room like lead actors in a play.

He easily spotted Bradford, his elbows leaning against the countertop. Surrounded by his entourage, the guy let out one big belly laugh after another. He appeared to be having the time of his life, yet Harper wasn’t there with them, his partner for tonight noticeably absent from his side.

But that was none of Russell’s business. He pushed off against the column and left the no man's land he inadvertently found himself in, making sure to steer clear away from the bar. The last thing he needed was to bump into one of the players from the team, or worse, one of his former coaches.

He wove his way through the throng of strangers, imagining Coach Anderson having a stroke if he ever saw Russell in the same room as him. Russell looked left and right, feeling lost in the middle of the packed room. Where the hell was Jude?

Soon, Russell found himself closer to the outer edge of the crowd. He observed the area around him as he gathered his bearings, but the endless sea of heads obstructed his view. Long hair. Short hair. Black hair. Blonde hair. Even one with a bleached-white platinum hair.

He ruffled his hair in annoyance, mentally apologizing to Serena right after doing so. Too many people had gathered in the lounge bar, and the place was too chaotic. All the while, weak rumblings of thunder resounded from beyond the windows. It was hopeless.

Did he show up here tonight in vain? Did he drive all the way back to his hometown for nothing?

He clicked his tongue. It was time to call it a night. He stood at the tip of his toes, giving the room another scan. Instead of finding the nearest exit, he spotted a mop of brown hair jutting above the rest.

He made a beeline for the tall guy without hesitation, easing his way between small groups of attendees, pushing past those who refused to make way. After wading through what felt like a marshy swamp, he finally reached his quarry.

And the guy was all alone.

“Jude?” Russell called out. “Jude Escobar?”

The man spun to face him, and the small silver stud pierced into his right ear was the next thing that caught Russell’s attention. The small accessory resembled what Jude had worn in school—whenever he could get away with it, anyway—and Russell let out a sigh of relief. It was Jude.

His former teammate stared back, taking his time to scrutinize him. Jude's eyebrows knitted tighter, and he looked to be deciding whether he knew Russell or not.

The wait quickly became awkward until the guy finally shifted his attention to Russell's hair—his ginger hair. It was a rare enough color in their small town. Rare, memorable, but most importantly, recognizable.

The man’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Flynn?”

“Man, it's great to see you again,” Russell said, glad the uncomfortable pause was over. He closed the last few feet between them, and with a smile, reached his hand out for a handshake. “Been looking for you since I got here.”

“Well, it’s good to see you too,” Jude said, shaking Russell's hand in a flaccid, clammy grip, while his other hand held a slice of half-eaten cake.

“Honestly, you’re the reason I even went to this shindig,” Russell said. “Forgot to ask you which night you'd be here, but I guess I got lucky.”

“Oh, for real?” Jude bobbed his head, looking over Russel's shoulder. Jude had his hair cropped short. The orange checkered shirt and charcoal suit he was wearing both hung on his tall, wiry frame. The man didn't change much in the past decade aside from looking a little thick around the waist.

The guy didn't look like he was about to say anything further, so Russell continued the conversation. “I see construction's been good for you as well.” He gave him another quick appraisal. “You still play football, or has all the physical work kept you in shape?”

Jude chuckled half-heartedly. “C’mon, what are you even talking about?” he asked, tapping a hand on his stomach. “You know I barely had any playing time even in our senior year.”

“That’s absurd,” Russell said. “You were more than good enough as a starter and you know it.”

Unlike him, Jude looked more of the prototypical wide receiver—tall and lean, with long reach and large hands. He may have always been a second or third-string in their lineup, but the guy had his moments. The schools they faced had always taken his teammate as a serious threat based on his physical attributes alone. It had made Jude another solid option in pass plays, and his presence in turn had made Russel's life easier on the field.

“Nah.” Jude denied with a shake of his head. “I only joined the team for the fun of it, you know? But you? You were the star back then, Flynn!”

Russell snorted.

“It's true, it’s true,” Jude said. “You were simply untouchable on the field, man! Always a second quicker, always a step ahead.” The guy snapped his fingers as excitement filled his voice. “Man, every touchdown catch of yours is the stuff of legend! Even in our very last game when…uhm…”

“When things fell apart?” Russell finished for him, feeling his jaw tighten. “Yeah, I remember. But hey, that was a long time ago, right?“

“Right. Right.” Jude dipped his head in understanding, taking another glance behind Russell.

“You looking for someone?” Russell asked as he took a glance over his shoulder, but no one stood nearby.

“Me? Nah. I just like to watch people,” Jude placed his unfinished cake on the cocktail table beside him and wiped his hands together. “Yeah. People watching. It's not every day everyone from our school returns to town, am I right? Good times, man. Good times.”

“I guess it's about time we get straight to the point, then?” Russell said.

“About what?” Jude asked back, sounding genuinely curious.

“About why I'm here. About the job you’re offering,” Russell clarified. “You know, the same one you mentioned over your surprise call last week?”

Was the guy drunk? High? Or was he just playing with him?

“Oh, yeah, that.” Jude pulled some napkins from a holder on the tall table behind him. After wiping his hands clean, he crumpled the used napkins into a ball and dabbed it all over his face, giving Russell a timid smile as perspiration beaded on his forehead. “The thing is…”

Russell scrunched his eyebrows. “Is something wrong? Is this a bad time? Should we head somewhere private to talk or something?” he asked, trying to understand what was up.

Jude started rolling the soiled ball of napkin between his hands, his eyes looking everywhere but Russel's. “Look, Flynn, I don't really know how to tell you this…”

“Tell me what?” Russell asked, his patience was wearing thin.

Jude held his breath as if he was trying to steel himself. After a tense moment, he let out a deep sigh, still refusing to look Russell in the eye.

“That job you mentioned?” Jude said.

"Yeah?"

“It's gone, man.”