Instead of trying to cover up her embarrassment or decipher him again, she stood quickly.  “I’m just, uh…going to go to the restroom,” she told Brennan.

A smile crossed his lips as he stared up at her.  “Alright.”

“If anyone asks, that’s where I’ll be,” she said as she backed away.

“Alright,” he repeated, his smile widening.

Devon darted for the restroom, her face flaming.  How was she such a mess?  Had she really said that?  Honestly, what was wrong with her?

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a conversation with someone who made her feel like that much of an idiot.  Normally, because Reid would always be at her side, she was never put in those kinds of situations.  What would Reid think now if he could see her rushing off to the restroom with her face redder than a tomato?  She didn’t even want to think about it.

Unsurprisingly, there was a line at the women’s restroom.  Devon stood just outside of the door, waiting for people to file out.  After a few women exited, she edged inside and stared at the large window before her eyes.  The entire outside wall was glass with quite literally the best view of Chicago she had seen.  It was way better than where they were sitting by the bar.  Why would this view be hidden in the women’s restroom?

Devon walked up to the glass as she waited for the stalls to empty out.  Her mind was all over the place, running between her dream, the shower, Brennan’s smile, and the sloshy feeling in her brain, and then back around and around again.

Soon, the restroom was quiet, and Devon entered a stall, hoping the room stayed silent.  She did her business and thumbed through her phone.  She had been glued to it even more so than normal because she couldn’t check in with anyone.  She had deactivated her Facebook and Twitter accounts, and she had chosen to permanently ignore the incoming emails.  Reid had sent another one, asking about her trip, but she would put off a reply as long as possible.  She could feign Internet complications or something.

It was a strange feeling to be completely alone in a world of activity.  No technological linkages were rooting her to the ground.  Thinking about that made her feel even worse, so she stuffed her phone back into her purse, preparing to leave.

Devon heard the restroom door swing open.  She slid her shoulder purse over her head as she listened to the girls on the other side of the wall.

“You want to?” one girl asked.

Devon scrunched her brows.  She wasn’t typically an eavesdropper, but they weren’t being secretive.

“Yeah, I only do it every once in a while,” a second girl responded.

That sounded even stranger.  Devon swung open her stall door and walked over to the sink to wash her hands.  The two girls were huddled in the corner with a third girl hidden behind them.  Devon washed and dried her hands, and then took one last glance at the odd group of girls loitering in the corner of the restroom.

She watched one girl bend over and sniff loudly, and then she straightened and brushed under her nose.  Devon froze.  Holy shit!  Were they seriously doing cocaine in the restroom?  Just out in the open like that?

Devon couldn’t believe it.  She stayed rooted to the ground, staring in shock at the girls in front of her.  Then, she paid more attention, something she hadn’t been doing since she had arrived in Chicago.  Those girls looked familiar.  The two with their backs to her had been sitting with Hadley.  They must have worked with her.

As her eyes shifted to the girl hidden behind the other two, she saw a rush of blonde hair nearly the same color as her own.  Devon’s mouth dropped open.  No way!

DEVON STUMBLED OUT of the restroom.  Her mouth was hanging on the floor as she rushed away from the scene behind her.  What the hell had just happened?

She was more in shock than surprised over the whole thing.  It had come out of nowhere.  Hadley had always been driven and ambitious, going after the things she wanted with zeal.  Couple that with her spontaneity and the enormity of a big city, and Devon was sure recreational drug use was more likely than unlikely.  Classmates who grew up here had told her that Chicago in particular was a cesspool for drug use.  Young professionals from all over the Midwest would flood the city and get caught up in a lifestyle befitting their wealth.  It was a status symbol, a social norm of sorts.

Devon found it disgusting.  She knew she wasn’t exactly one to talk about being an upstanding member of society, but she had grown up around musicians.  Devon knew all about the lifestyle.

How many parties had she come home to where things had gotten out of hand?  Her parents didn’t have to be in the spotlight, and it still affected them.  The industry was out of control, and anyone touched was sucked into it like a tornado.  Even Devon, as far on the outskirts as she could get, had smoked pot in high school.  She had given it up when she moved out, and she had become more vocal to her parents about her distaste.

But Hadley…

Oh, Hadley.

Hadley had never even smoked pot in college.  People had made fun of her for never trying anything.  She was so carefree.  She had said she didn’t need drugs to alter her mood because she was so awesome without them.

Now, she’s snorting coke in public?

Devon couldn’t fathom it.  How had she lost so much of her best friend in just one semester?  Then again, who was she to judge?  Devon had lost all of herself in that amount of time.  Or had it been happening longer, and she had just finally opened her eyes?

She sank down into her chair and stared out across the Chicago skyline.  She probably should have left right away.  She didn’t know how to deal, and the more she thought about it, the more pissed she became.  Hadley was just being irresponsible doing that shit somewhere she could get caught.  How often was she using?  Did Garrett know?  Was he also on drugs?

Devon had so many questions.  But if she asked Hadley to open up, would Hadley require her to do it in turn?

“Hey, Belle.  You alright?” Brennan asked, sliding back into the chair next to her.

“Stop calling me that,” she spat.

“Huh,” he said.

“Stop that, too!”

“Stop what?”  He stared at her blankly.

She looked away.  “Oh, nothing.”

“You need a shot?”  He offered her the tequila in his hand.

“No.  Shots don’t fix everything,” she said, turning to glare at him.

It was enough that her life was a mess.  Hadley wasn’t supposed to be fucked up, too.  Hadley was supposed to be the well-grounded, smart, and successful one.  She was supposed to have the world at her feet.

“Suit yourself.”  Brennan tipped back the drink.

“What’s your deal?” she asked, her despair getting the best of her.

Brennan shrugged.  “What’s your deal?”

He was looking directly into her eyes now.  It made her uncomfortable, so she looked away.  She really just wanted to say that she had asked first, but in the interest of not sounding like a toddler, she held it back.

“I just don’t get you.”

“Sorry,” he said unapologetically.

Sorry?  Like that explains everything away, she thought bitterly.

“Are you always this talkative?” she asked dryly.

“Well, I thought you were quiet,” he said with a shrug.

She was certain that he was purposely evading her questions now.  Considering how little she was telling anyone, his nonanswers were downright infuriating.