KENNEDY

"Where's Rebecca?"

Kennedy wasn't sure how much she trusted her Instagram co-manager when it came to parties. The girl was relatively new to drinking and was also known to shoot off at the mouth when it came to things she wasn't supposed to talk about. And since this was their first major party since Tampa, she wanted to make sure nothing was being said that should have been kept under wraps.

"I don't know." Lyla shrugged, "But can I ask you something?"

Kennedy rolled her eyes to herself. Lyla had become more clingy in the past few weeks, forcing Kennedy to hang out with her when Doug was out doing other things. Which made it difficult for Kennedy to escape the apartment and be those other things.

"Sure." She shrugged. The edges of her vision were starting to get fuzzy, but she was largely ignoring it.

"Do you think Doug is cheating on me?"

Kennedy almost spat out her drink.

"What?"

Lyla raised her eyebrows slightly.

"Do you think Doug is cheating on me?" She repeated, "He's been distant lately...and I don't know why."

Kennedy took a second. She usually couldn't take a second to think when she was buzzed or drunk or anywhere on the spectrum of not being completely 'there.' But she managed in that moment. She took a second and thought about how to react. Because if there was one thing Kennedy Abrams was, in any state of mind, it was a skilled liar.

"Isn't he in that one class? The one that Donaldson teaches?"

Lyla thought for a moment before nodding slowly.

"Yeah, I think so."

"He's probably just stressed out about that." Kennedy shrugged, taking another sip of her drink, "That class sucks."

Lyla was quiet, her gaze directed at the ground as Kennedy tried to slow down her heartrate. She was fine. She was an excellent liar. She was fine. She was fine.

"Nice party."

Kennedy felt someone tap her shoulder and turned around, leaving Lyla to go and find her boyfriend—her definitely completely faithful boyfriend—by herself. As Lyla walked away, Kennedy found herself face-to-face with a disturbingly realistic werewolf mask. She looked the body attached to the mask up and down swiftly, making her initial impressions of the person before they could say another word: easily 6'2", male, dressed completely in black with the exception of the mask. The black made it difficult to determine his build, but that could be discovered in other ways.

"Thanks." Kennedy grinned, tilting her head to the side slightly as the werewolf stood still. "And you are?"

"Connor." He replied, still not moving. "I'm here with Claire."

'Claire' seemed like a pretty stereotypical name that could be absolutely anyone, but Kennedy resisted the urge to ask for the last names of either Connor or Claire.

"Well, glad you could make it." Kennedy nodded, starting to lose interest in speaking to the guy, "Let me know if you need to find the bathroom."

She turned to leave before the werewolf reached out and grabbed her arm. Even his hands were cloaked in black gloves.

Kennedy raised her eyebrows and turned around again.

"Yes?"

The werewolf let go of her arm and took a small step backwards.

"I just wanted to know if you were friends with the Brittney Spears girl?" He nodded towards the kitchen, where an already-drunk Rebecca was talking to someone dressed as a...tree. Kennedy was pretty sure it was a tree.

"I'm not, actually." She said, shaking her head, "I don't know her that well."

The werewolf nodded.

"Alright." He replied, backing away from Kennedy. "Cool party."

Kennedy didn't bother replying before turning around and looking for someone else—anyone else—to talk to.

She didn't know why she had lied about being friends with Rebecca. But something about the werewolf and the fact that that had been his first question to her didn't sit right.

"You took a second, you know."

Kennedy looked to her left to see that Lyla had reappeared.

"What?"

"When I asked you if you thought Doug was cheating on me." Lyla explained, looking over at Kennedy with tired disappointment on her face, "You took a second."

Kennedy swallowed her fear, refusing to look at her friend.

"I don't know—"

"I'm not accusing you of anything." Lyla sighed, "I'm just letting you know. You took a second."

Kennedy nodded once. Just up and down. One time. Her heart was beating faster than it had been thirty seconds earlier, but she wasn't exactly sure why. Lyla was right. She had taken a second. She always took a second when she needed to make up a story without much time to actually think up said story.

"Kennedy?"

"I know." Kennedy said quietly, staring at the people at the party. At the people enjoying themselves without having to deal with anything Kennedy Abrams had ever dealt with. "I took a second."

Lyla sighed again. Loudly. A sigh that said she was hoping Kennedy would have denied it.

"So that's that."