“Oh.” I winked at him. “But imagine if you were a shirtless Cookie Monster. You know how many cookies would be thrown at you?” I paused and let him sort that out. “Lots and lots of cookies . . .”

He barked out a laugh. “Not the cookies I want, Sheldon, not at all.”

I sobered at that comment. Denton and I talked about Bryce and Corrigan. We had talked about Mena. His love life, his real love life, has never been a topic on the table. I asked now, “Whose cookies are you hoping for?”

“Hmm?” He had turned back, tapping his finger against the door as we waited for Bryce. He met my gaze again in the rearview mirror. “What do you mean?”

“Not the cookies you want, so,” I scooted to the edge of my seat and leaned forward. Bracing my elbow on the back of his seat, I asked, “You say that like you know whose cookies you want. Who is it?” I frowned. “Not mine. I have to pick between Bryce and Corrigan, and to tell the truth, I want to jump both of them. I can’t handle another guy in the mix.”

“Sheldon.” He pretended to groan, holding his hands over his ears. “No more talk about your sex life. I can’t handle hearing your constant rejection.”

I grabbed one of his hands and pulled it down. “Cut it out. Whose cookies?” We both knew our friendship was purely platonic, which felt good. “Please, Denton. Trust me. You’re doing me a favor. I’d love to hear about someone else’s problems. It’ll give me a short reprieve from my own.”

“It’s no one.”

“Come on, Denton. You know all of my problems. Spill, buddy. Give me some dirt.”

He started to shake his head, but I could tell it was there. He wanted to spill. He wanted to gossip about his love life with me. I opened my mouth, ready to deliver another plea when the door opened again, and an object from my own love life woes popped back inside. A secretive grin lingered over his face as he handed me a bag, then started the car back up.

Bryce said, “Open it up. Let me show you my genius.”

I pulled out a masquerade mask. One was black and lacy. A second was pink and glittery. The third was a simple mask that resembled something Zorro would wear. I had no idea what he had planned, but I kept the Zorro one for myself and handed the other two frilly ones forward to Denton.

He took them, and immediately started protesting. “No way. No, man. I’m not wearing this.”

Bryce started laughing. “Chill. It’s not exactly what you’re thinking.” As he turned into the right lane, heading for the freeway that would take us to the college campus, he met my eyes in the mirror briefly. “Corrigan texted me when we were changing to leave. He ran into your friend Carolina.”

I perked up. “Really?”

He nodded, throwing the left blinker on and merging with traffic. “He said the girls want to do something to help so they’re throwing a masquerade ball for you.”

“For me? As in I’d be the guest of honor?”

“No. They have no idea we’re coming, but the whole thing is to celebrate you or roast you. Corrigan’s words, that’s how he explained it.”

“What’s the point of the party?”

“It’s all about Sheldon. You might not realize the extent of it,” he told me, “but you’re both hated and loved on campus. Corrigan said news about the party is already spreading. It’s all over social media. The whole point of the party is to get together to talk about Sheldon.”

“If she’s guilty or not?”

Bryce gave Denton a half-grin. “Yeah, kinda. It’s just a big excuse to get together and drink, but I guess the campus is buzzing about Sheldon so it should be a big turnout. Hopefully, we can blend in and overhear something good.”

“I bet the real killer will be there.”

“Isn’t that what you did before? With the other stalker?” Denton was looking between both of us.

I wasn’t happy. Another party. Another stalker. Another killer, and a masquerade mask was the only way I could go. I wasn’t happy about any of this, but I couldn’t do anything else. “Yes,” I sighed, frowning to myself. “Another fucking party.”

I could feel Bryce watching me in the mirror, but I didn’t say anything.

I muttered under my breath, “We need new material. That’s it.” I announced it, “If I get out of this intact, I know what I’m majoring in.”

“What?”

“Criminal justice.” It was ironic in a way. “I’m going to be a damn cop, then I can figure out other ways to find my own damn stalkers.”

“Well, until then, we keep doing what we know.”

“You’re right.” I clipped my head forward. “Drinking and raising hell. That’s all I know. When does this party start?”

“Soon enough. We’re heading to pick up Corrigan. We’re going to sneak in with his fraternity. They have a plan figured out already.”

“So, they know we’re going?”

“Corrigan went to his fraternity, and they know who he is. Apparently, they refused to let him into the house until he could prove his identity.”

Score one for Denton’s makeup artist.

Bryce added, “And Carolina is the only one who knows you might come tonight, outside of Corrigan’s fraternity. I doubt the stalker is from his house, Sheldon.”

I pressed my lips together. Did I really have to remind him that we had hired Marcus to cater the food for our own party, the one we threw to draw out the stalker? It had worked like a charm, except someone died from that party. I didn’t want the same thing to happen with this one. Then again, it wasn’t my party, I picked up the Zorro mask, and I’d never used masks like this either.

I guess it was better than nothing, or better than hiding in Denton’s house. As I thought that, my eyes fell to Bryce’s shoulder and how his shirt moved over his muscles as he drove. I let out a silent sigh. Yes. Staying any longer in that house wouldn’t have been good. I would’ve done something I would’ve regretted.

Definitely.

I snuck another look at Bryce’s arms.

*

“Damn, Sheldon.” Michael Reveritt wolf-whistled as he opened the back door for us. He stopped, blocking our entrance, as he looked me up and down. Holding a red cup in one hand and his other arm leaning against the doorframe, Corrigan’s fraternity brother smirked down at me. “You’ve got to be the best-looking serial killer I’ve ever met.”