CHAPTER 37 | Libby
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Finn wasn’t kidding when he said the holiday party was seriously themed-out. The Ritz-Carlton’s ballroom has been redecorated to look like a vintage carnival. There are games and food carts lining the far walls, a violin quartet playing Fall Out Boy and U2 covers, and up above, the ballroom’s ceiling is covered in a million tiny white lights, like every star in the universe is twinkling down on us.
Honestly, I could stand here all night, enjoying them, but I’m on the move, looking for the girls and Finn.
And, well, avoiding the carnival clowns.
An orange-haired one starts to wander my way and I hold up one finger. “Ah ah,” I tell him and his wide, red mouth stretches into a crazy, creepy smile. “No hugs.”
The crazy smile turns upside down an
