Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

" P lease, please, please come with us." Meagan widens her eyes, pushing her bottom lip out. All she would needs to do is clasp her hands together beneath her chin and bat her eyelashes for the image of Puss in Boots from that Shrek movie to flash in my mind.

I snort out a laugh before I lean away from my desk with a sigh. "You know I have to get this assignment done in the next two weeks, right?"

Meagan glances down at the complex spell work on my desk and makes a face. "Yeah, but you're a whiz with that sort of thing. You'll get it done before next week even gets here." Charlie comes up behind Meagan, nodding along with what she is saying as he wraps an arm around Meagan's waist and gives a quick kiss to her temple.

I roll my eyes at her confidence in my skill. Ok, yes, I'm one of only five students at Blackstar Academy currently enrolled in the Advanced Summoning class, but the spellwork isn't easy. In fact, it's one of the hardest classes I've ever been in. Mostly, because each spell incorporates no less than four different disciplines for the spell to work.

But I do need a break. I've been staring at the assignment for days now, and I'm starting to dream in spellwork. "Fine. I'll go. Wait, where are we going?"

"No fun if we tell you," Charlie informs me with a smirk and I roll my eyes. Why do I even ask? He always refuses to tell me where we plan to go.

I lean back in my chair and peer around their bodies until I see Ben in the kitchen. "Where you guys going?" I holler over to him.

He looks up from whatever healthy shake he's making and gives me a smile

My stomach flips and fills with butterflies. Yes, I have a huge crush on my best friend, who is also totally straight.

And yes , I know how stupid that is, but it is what it is.

"Missie B's." He laughs when I grimace. I'm not a fan of clubs or large groups of people. Ben knows this. Hell, they all know this. And they still manage to drag me out to them.

"You have to come," Meagan begs. "Tell him, Astrid."

Arms the color of deep walnut snake around my shoulders, the subtle citrus smell that is Astrid enveloping me right before their frizzy Afro tickles the side of my face. "Don't make me get out my handcuffs and commit kidnapping, Issac," Astrid teases, tone sultry.

"Fine," I huff out. I pat their arms, pecking a kiss on their cheek, and they reward me with a dazzling smile. Out of my four friends, I've known Astrid the least amount of time, but I can't see my life without them in it. They are quickly becoming one of my best friends, and thankfully, they get along great with Ben, so there's no awkwardness.

Astrid's arms tighten around me in a quick hug before they pull away and skip into the kitchen to hassle Ben on what he's making. Astrid has no interest in Ben's shakes, but they love to pepper Ben with questions about what he's preparing and why, making Ben launch into a lecture about the health benefits of whatever drink he's creating.

Groaning, I get to my feet, then straighten my desk and put away my project for my final. I'm in my last semester before becoming a registered Summoner, and the final project is crazy complex. I have to not only complete a functional summoning spell but also correct and incorporate spellwork the instructor has put together.

"You need a break, so go change and then we'll head out," Meagan says, shooing me towards my bedroom.

"I'm already dressed," I complain, letting her herd me into my room, Astrid follows close behind.

"You're not going anywhere in baggy sweats and a stained shirt." Astrid snorts, shaking her head. "Besides Missie B's changed their dress code. No way you're getting into any club looking like this."

I stand in the middle of my bedroom, not really knowing what to do as Meagan and Astrid start going through my closet discussing outfit ideas.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I watch them in amusement as they pull out random shirts and pants before tossing them to the side. After several minutes of debate, they finally agree on an outfit and come bouncing back toward me with their arms full of clothing. Why are there so many clothes? Seems a bit excessive.

In the end, I'm wearing a tight pair of silver jeans with black leather bands randomly sewn here and there. The pants are so tight they leave nothing to the imagination, and I'm afraid that if I pop a boner, my dick will get strangled. The top is a sheer metallic black that fits me like a second skin. Way too tight for someone who has a slight pooch like me. Black combat boots and fingerless fishnet gloves that reach nearly to my pits completes the look.

I don't even remember buying half these clothes and I have the sinking suspicion that one or both of them snuck clothes into my closet for just this occasion.

I blink owlishly at the stranger in the mirror before shaking my head. "Nope, not going into public like this. You can see the outline of my dick!"

"Which is exactly why you're wearing it," Astrid says silkily, taking me firmly by the shoulders and steering me away from the mirror.

"But—"

"No buts," Meagan interrupts, sliding in front of me with a comb and four different bottles of hair products. I roll my eyes at her and make myself comfortable on my desk chair. It's no use trying to talk her out of doing my hair once she's set her mind to it. I'm just happy she's not insisting on makeup.

Don't get me wrong, I will wear some eyeliner and maybe a little lip gloss now and then, but I know my anxiety won't let me leave the room if I put on anything eye-catching with this getup on. So, I sit and let Meagan give me a hair makeover while Astrid picks out accessories that I know I don't own. Finally, after a million years, three complete accessory redos, and a ton of tweaking they clap their hands and exclaim that I'm presentable.

I stare at myself in the mirror, trying to decide if I even like the look. My usually boring brown hair is in a messy, spiky style that looks both professionally done and like I just woke up and scrubbed my head with a staticky towel. It looks…good.

And even my black-rimmed glasses don't detract from it.

"We finally ready?" Charlie asks as I step out of my room, bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

I glance down at myself, equal parts delighted and nervous. I look amazing, but I never would have put this outfit together on my own.

"Good, about time we. . . " Ben's voice stops.

I look up and spot him frozen in the living room, staring at me with wide eyes. I swallow, the nervousness of wearing these clothes coming back full force as he takes me in. I want to run into my bedroom and cover up, but I can't move.

He blinks his brown eyes and physically shakes himself out of his trance before his gaze comes up to meet mine. "You look good," he says softly before he clears his throat and looks away.

Warmth floods my body, my cheeks heating up with a blush as I look down at my shoes.

I don't get much of a chance to say anything to him as Astrid pushes me out the door, the others following closely behind. Fifteen minutes later we're stepping out of our Uber at Midtown-Westport, the two-story brick building that houses Missie B's in front of us. The sidewalk separating us from the club is teeming with people, either milling around or passing by on their way to their destinations.

Taking a deep breath, I grit my teeth and follow behind the group as we thread our way inside. Tonight, there's no cover charge, which I'm thankful for. The music thumps from the speakers, the vocals of the song sounding off until I realize it's karaoke night. The crowd is going wild, encouraging the singer as he does a questionable rendition of Billy Idol's "White Wedding."

A headache is already beginning to form, but I force a smile when Ben grins over his shoulder at me. In an unspoken discussion, we head upstairs. Ben and I take a detour to one of the bars while the others aim for the dance floor.

Waiting for our drinks, Ben leans against me. His breath hits the back of my neck. "You aren't going to dance—" He shouts into my ear. — "are you?"

I shake my head emphatically, almost slinging my glasses off my face. No way am I dancing in public. I'm a white boy with white boy dance skills. That means absolutely no rhythm and a very real possibility of someone mistaking my dancing for an epileptic seizure.

Laughing, he hooks an arm around my shoulders and I have to fight down a shudder, mentally telling my dick not to get excited at the contact. He leans in again, his chin resting on my shoulder as we watch the other three sway together on the dance floor. Charlie is firmly between Meagan and Astrid.

My mood is damped a bit when I spot Jacob on the side lines, but that can't be right. He'd never be caught dead in a club like this. But it's definitely him and he's looking in our direction with a scowl on his face.

Creepy!

"What if I asked you to dance?" I go still, my heart racing as I turn my head just enough to look at him. His brown eyes are watching the dancers, but there's a tightening at the corners of his lips. Is he nervous for my answer or is he regretting asking at all? Is he just being nice and trying to get me out of my shell or does he really want to dance with me?

Why?

He's straight, at least, that's the vibe he always gives off. And the string of women with broken hearts he's left in his wake definitely confirms he's straight.

So why is he asking to dance?

Before I can bombard him with questions, the bartender is back with our beers. Ben leans away from me, snagging one of the bottles, then takes a drink. I can't help but stare as he drinks, his Adam's apple bobbing the length of that long throat. I just want to nibble on it.

Nope. Not going there, though it's too late for my dick. Just the idea of doing that has already got the damn thing chubbing up and my pants are so tight that not only can I not hide my growing erection, but I can't adjust, either.

Ugh, I'm going to end up a eunuch after tonight.

I grab my beer and chug half of it with one breath. When I finally lower the glass, Ben is watching me, a smirk on his lips. "You sure about that dance?"

My heart starts pounding again, but damn it, why can't I dance with him if he's offering? "Um. . . just let me use the bathroom really quick," I manage to squeak out before I turn and bolt away.

The hallway is empty, and I take a deep breath. Is the near panic attack because of the possibility of dancing in public or because it's Ben asking? Either way, I need to get out there before Ben decides to come back here to check on me. Talk about a mood killer to find your love interest in the midst of a panic attack in a hallway.

Decision made, I turn to make my way back to Ben. A thump behind me gets my attention but before I can look, darkness envelops me.