Brandon's POV
I raced outside to the exit, lungs burning, my pulse hammering in my ears louder than the music that still throbbed inside the hall. The hot sun hit me like a slap, sharp and cool, but it didn't calm me—it only reminded me how late I was. I tore across the pavement toward Seth's SUV, shoving a hand into my pocket.
My phone was buzzing endlessly, like it wanted to crawl out of my jeans. I yanked it out, breath ragged, thumb slick with sweat. I already knew who it was. Pete.
I had promised to be there on time.
My stomach twisted. Promises. I'd made too many tonight and I was failing all of them. I was failing Seth by leaving. I was failing Pete by not showing. I was failing myself, too, but I didn't have time to sit and count the wreckage.
The screen lit again—Incoming Call: Pat.
Shit.
