1 2 : 2 1  A M

     Just breathe, Sydney.

     That was all I kept telling myself as Wyatt drove us farther away. We couldn't hear the sirens anymore, but that was a far cry from the real reason why I was freaking out.

     Dreams couldn't be real. They couldn't come true.

     (Can they?)

    "So," Wyatt cleared his throat. "Now that we barely escaped, where to next?"

     I blinked, coming back to reality. My phone should turn on any minute, but in the mean time, I was stuck in this car until God knows when. Time to get my bearings straight, then.

     Starting with the boy next to me.

     Fuck. He was right there. How was he not internally hyperventilating right now? Knowing that If I reached out just slightly, I would be touching him. And whenever he'd turn my way to check the mirror...

    "Sydney?" Wyatt glanced worriedly over me before going back to the road. "You okay? What's wrong?"

    "I — " The words halted in my throat. "What's his name?" I blurted out, pointing to the guy in the back who was currently passed out.

     He stared at me a little longer. "I don't know. Chris, a little help here?"

     Chris shook the guy roughly. "Yo, budddy, what's your name?"

     He muttered gibberish. Chris tried again.

    "Check his wallet or something," I insisted, biting my fingers. Come on, there's gotta be a name somewhere!

     The curly blond raised his eyebrows. "Persistent." Nevertheless, he rummaged through the guy's jacket and pants for some kind of identification, all as I turned around and anxiously watched. I didn't miss the way Wyatt kept glancing at me more often than he should.

    "Aha! Found it." Chris whipped it open. "Landon. His name's Landon."

     I let out a deep breath I didn't know I was holding.

     I knew my logic sounded batshit crazy, but I was desperate. Now that I knew everyone's names—Wyatt, Chris and Landon—none of them were considered strangers anymore, right? And with that being said, it automatically ruled out Chris and Landon being Prince Charming One and Two. I couldn't do anything about Wyatt—the dream made sure of that, as Dream Sydney had known his identity already—but the least I could do was to prevent anything else from becoming a reality.

     (Oh, who was I kidding.)

     I sounded like a madwoman.

     My phone screen turned on.

    "Praise Jesus," I let out, grabbing it and quickly scrolling through my contacts. I clicked Jess's number.

     Hello, you have reached the number of Jess Harden. You are either here for one of two reasons: one, you're one of my best friends, and in that case this means I'm basically A-wall. Two, you're one of many guys that want me as your booty call. Well guess what motherfuc—

     Over and over again, the voicemail played.

    "You've got to be kidding me."

    "Is your friend still open for business?" Chris teased behind me. I jumped and he cackled, clapping to himself as he settled back.

    "What's going on?" Wyatt's tone was sharper. 

     He didn't like being out of the loop.

    "Jess isn't answering," I explained, fidgeting. "I've called her a million times. No texts either. It's not like her. She usually has her phone attached to her hipbone."

     Don't panic, don't panic.

     (I'M PANICKING.)

    "Have you tried contacting your other friends who might be with her?"

    "I... I don't know," I said quietly. "We didn't really know anyone there. It was just us." This plan was so, so stupid. "She's my best friend and I can't just leave her—" It's my fault that we're here.

    "Syd, breathe," Wyatt cut off, his tone gentle. Even his voice managed to calm me.

    "Was this before or after the kitchen?"

     I looked back surprisingly at Chris, who was frowning to connect the dots. I didn't really expect that he was willing to help. "Before. You didn't happen to see a tall Asian girl with long black hair, did you? Her name's Jess?"

    "Jess."

     Landon groaned her name. Startled, Chris and I both gaped at him, while Wyatt was trying really hard to concentrate on the road ahead.

    "You know Jess?" I asked incredulously.

    "Jess," he slurred, eyes drooping again, "I'm sorry..."

     Then he was back to being unconscious again.

     Chris blinked. "What the fuck."

    "There must be something you know," Wyatt pushed, looking back at me again, his light eyes always hopeful. "Maybe somewhere she could've gone?"

     I frowned. That could be anywhere. Jess was a social butterfly, always going from one place to another, but never leaving me without a message. I was her designated driver, ready to pick her up or get her out of trouble when she needed to.

    "There's one place," I murmured.

    "Well, that's settled then," Chris quipped from the back. "Let's go."

     I whipped my head. "What? You guys don't have to—"

    "Hey, I came here for an adventure," he splayed his arms on the seat. "What better way to start than a search party? That's dope as fuck."

     I raised my eyebrows. Wyatt, to my surprise, laughed.

    "And you?" I bit my lip.

     Wyatt shrugged. "I don't mind. It's still twelve-thirty."

     I wanted to retort something back, but Chris beat me. "Come on, Melbourne, it's fine. I'm cool with it, Harrington over there looks like he'd do anything for you, and Landon's completely ecstatic." He waved Landon's limp hand around, his face grinning with mischief as the guy was still clearly knocked out.

     I was out of time and out of options.

     So my next decision was crystal clear.

    "Sydney?" Wyatt stayed on me this time, with that cute little dimple smile like don't worry, we're in this together. Despite what went down between us. Despite everything.

     My chest fluttered. 

    "What's our first destination?"

 1 2 : 5 2  A M

     The Red Room was one of Jess's favourite clubs.

     It was situated in one of the more shady parts of town, where people gave you long side glances—not in a good way—and had the stench of alcohol, weed and, well, other unmentionable things. Point was, it would be wiser if you didn't venture in this side of the neighbourhood alone. Or not at all.

    "What is that?" Chris let out. "Some Fifty Shades type of shit?"

    "I've never been there!" I let out, keeping my blushing to a minimum, because somehow talking about Fifty Shades when Wyatt was in touching distance made me so fucking nervous. "But it's her favourite club. It's my best guess."

    "We're going club-hopping then? Hell yeah, baby!"

    "You're all pitching in for gas, by the way," Wyatt warned. Then he looked at me briefly, his neck heating. "Sorry. You get a discount."

     I bit my lip so hard from smiling.

    "Chill, Harrington. Chivalry isn't dead." Chris paused, and even though my back was to him, I could almost sense his smirk as he pressed himself against our seats. "So what's going on with you two, anyway?"

     Damn it, Chris!

    "What's it to you?" Wyatt scoffed.

    "The fact that you're so touchy on the subject is why it's to me," he clicked his tongue. "Also explains why Melbourne here is all burned up."

    "I am not," I defended.

    "Lying is bad for your health, darling."

     Wyatt's hands gripped harder on the stirring wheel.

    "So," Chris continued, that motherfucker, leaning forward and taking space between the two front seats. "What was it? A bad break-up? A fall-out friendship? A one-night sta—"

     The car screeched into a stop.

    "We're here," Wyatt said, deadpanned.

     On big, block red letters, THE RED ROOM was engraved in a neon sign, flickering about the night. People were already flooding the entrance, with music booming from inside and the bouncers standing on the side completely unfazed and seemingly careless.

     Suddenly, in the back of the car, Landon started singing.

    "Apple bottom jeans, looks with the feeerg—"

     The three of us shared a look, then at Landon, then at each other.

    "I thought he was passed out," I hissed.

    "He was," Chris grumbled. "Do you want me to knock him out?"

    "No!" Wyatt and I both shouted.

    "Okay!"

    " —the whole town looking at huuur—"

    "We can't bring him in with us," Wyatt muttered. "He'll just be dead weight. He'll have to stay in the car."

     I pursed my lips, knowing my next move. "Okay, you guys stay. I'll go."

    "What?" Wyatt's head whipped so fast to my direction I would've thought he'd sprained his neck. "The hell you're going alone. I'm coming with you."

     For a while we kept staring at each other, his honey shaded eyes determined as if to say fucking try me. I almost forgot that we both have the same fire inside of us. Quiet, but resilient. And when one opened fire, the other always shot back. It was our dynamic. 

     Maybe it always will be.

     I sighed.

    "Fine." I turned to Chris and gave him a pity smile. "Guess you're stuck on guard duty."

     With that Wyatt and I bounced off the car, leaving the keys to Chris. We looked at the club for a moment, at its bright red lights and people filtering in and out with no attention. It felt different than entering the Blacklist Party. There was an older crowd, and a feeling that whatever happened in there, stayed there.

     It felt dangerous.

    "You sure about this?" Wyatt whispered, feeling the same hesitation.

     I took a deep breath. "Let's go find this bitch."

Y'all are not ready for the Red Room.