Set on getting this task done and then getting home after two dances, I weave my way around the edges of the crowd and slip into the hallway. The line for the restroom is super freaking long. I tap my foot at the end and then pull out my phone and search Google for a certain name. I'm becoming a stalker, but it brings me joy every time I find no new hits. Nothing has been written on him for the entire week—no words or pictures with hot women.
He'd left his calendar for tonight suspiciously blank, but I find it hard to believe Vincent Valiant will spend a Friday evening locked away in his castle. It's only a matter of time before he moves on completely.
Then what will I do?
The line gets shorter until I've almost reached the doors, my time alone ending when a door further down the hall o
