Jordan throws his head back laughing at something the girl in front of him says but then his eyes collide with mine and all signs of humour are leeched out of his face as he straightens up from where he had been leaning against the car.
"Mrs. Mikhailov?" He stutters out as I come to stand in front of him in all my disheveled glory as he takes in the sight of my messed up hair, my puffy face, and the way my dress is still ruffled in places where it got wet.
"Can we go back to Mr. Mikhailov's house please?" I ask him, making sure to keep my voice from trembling, knowing well enough that there is a stranger standing privy to this conversation.
Jordan looks confused out of his mind but before he can find something to say, he looks at something behind me and his eyed widen.
Fear strikes
