by Angel Lawson
“So, it’s going to be like that?”
“Yes,” I answer simply. “It’s going to be exactly like that.”
I hear his glass of orange juice slam down harshly on the counter. “Well, tough shit, V. You can act like a baby about it, but—.”
“Oh, that’s rich.” I laugh darkly, finally turning to look at him. “You want me to stop acting like a baby? Maybe you should try not treating me like one for once.”
“You want to do this here, fine. You and Reyn? Not happening.” Whatever’s in my eyes makes him toss the bagel aside. He dusts his palms off with two pointed whacks against one another. “I’m doing this for your own good.”
I tilt my head, watching him. “Maybe that’s how it started. Maybe there was a time this was all about what was best for me. But now?” My smile feels tight and wrong. “Now, it’s something else, and you know it.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Emory,” I start, staring calmly into his eyes. “You have two girlfriends.” I hold up two fingers. “Two of them. I never said a word when Campbell dragged you around school by your balls. I kept my mouth shut when she kept you chained to your phone. I didn’t say a thing when I watched her tell you how to dress, how to talk, how to exist. You know why? Because for some crazy reason, being with her made you happy. If I want a boyfriend—”
He cuts in with a clipped, “Not him.”
“Then who?” I wonder, lifting my chin. “Not Reyn. Definitely not Sebastian, or Tyson, or Carlton, or Ben. Go on, then. Tell me who meets your standards. Give me a list of names, Emory.”
Instead, he just grits out. “You’re not seeing him again, and that’s final.”
Right.
Here’s the anger.
Despite feeling like I’m shaking with the force of it, I keep my voice low and controlled. “I’m only going to say this once, so you’d better listen. You’re not my father. Even if you were, you’d still have no say over what I do with my time, my feelings, or my body.”
“Oh, I’d love to see what Mom and Dad would say about this.” He crosses his arms, eyes shrewd. “You think this is a bad reaction? Wait until they get wind of it.”
“You’re threatening to tell them?” Having seen this coming miles away, I just shrug. “Go ahead. I don’t give a single solitary fuck.”
Pure disbelief fills his eyes. “Jesus, he really got into your head, didn’t he?”
“You still don’t get it!” My toast pops and I completely ignore it. “This is me, Em! This is who I am, without the pills, without feeling like I’m some defective loser, without my family constantly breathing down my neck and telling me how to feel. This is the real me. Get used to it.”
“Oh, he’s good.” His laugh is completely without humor. “So that’s how he’s playing it, huh? Got you going on some little independence kick? Open your eyes, V, this is what he does. He manipulates situations for—”
“Give me a break.” I roll my eyes so aggressively, I might have pulled something. “Look at his life, Emory. Who exactly is he manipulating with these superpowers of his? He can’t even leave the house without getting frisked. He has to go through three layers of procedure just to have me in his kitchen for an hour. He couldn’t even eat at my table until Mom and Dad un-manipulated their own situation.”
“Poor Reyn,” Emory sneers, nostrils flaring. “He’s such a victim for committing a felony and almost killing you in the process. We should throw him a pity party. In fact, you know what? I’ll design the banner myself.” He sweeps his hand high. “It’ll say ‘that’s what you get, asshole’!”
I push off the counter, feeling my eyes flash red. “Don’t even act like you haven’t been worried about him all this time.”
“That was before he fucked my sister!”
“I know you. If you really thought Reyn was everything you’re saying, he never would have been your best friend.”
He scoffs derisively. “Please. Hamilton Bates was one of my best friends for three years.”
“And look at him now.” I pull out my phone, swiftly navigating to his ChattySnap. I angrily swipe through, shoving the phone in his face. “Building homes in other countries, working at the soup kitchen with Gwen, teaching cello to disadvantaged youth.” Emory just snorts, pushing the phone away. I continue, “Because deep down, you knew Hamilton was a good guy.” I can’t even say that with a straight face. “Okay, he’s an alright guy.” That doesn’t quite feel right, either. “Well, he’s not evil!” Yeah, that’s about as good as I can do.
“This has nothing to do with Hamilton.”
“You’re right,” I agree, stuffing my phone back into my pocket. “This is about you being a complete coward.”
He stares at me unblinkingly, voice low and deadly. “Excuse me?”
“If you weren’t,” I explain, snatching my toast, “then maybe you could face the truth.”
“And what truth is that?” His voice turns mocking. “That you’re in stupid, schoolgirl puppy-love with Reyn?”
I’m not expecting the way the words fall like lead in the bottom of my stomach. It momentarily takes my voice away, trapping it into a lump at the back of my throat. He doesn’t even know it, but hearing it said like that—having these colossal, exhilarating, once-in-a-lifetime feelings diminished so callously—is probably the most hurtful thing he’s ever said to me.
I’m still caught in the trap of it when a rumble echoes off the pavement, followed by a solitary blare of the horn. I grab my stuff while Em’s eyebrows draw angrily together. We both look out the window. Sebastian’s shiny blue muscle car sits in the driveway, engine purring like Firefly on my lap.
“Is that Sebastian?” I move toward the door, but he blocks my way. “What the hell is he doing here?”
Finally finding my voice, I flatly explain, “He’s giving me a ride.”
Emory balks. “Like fucking hell he is. First of all, this conversation isn’t over, and secondly, there’s no way in hell you’re getting into a car with a Wilcox.”
I glare at him. “Get out of my way, Em.”
“Jesus Christ, V.” He looks at me like it’s dawning on him that he doesn’t even know who’s standing in front of him. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I know you’re going to get hurt.”
I swallow hard, hand flexing around the strap of my bag. “The truth I was talking about before? The one you’re afraid of facing? It’s that you’re so worried about some guy manipulating my life to fit his own pleasure, taking away my happiness and hurting me, that you’re missing a very essential point.” I look him in the eye and feel the steel in my veins. “It’s you, Emory. You’re the guy.”
I barely watch the words land, using the opportunity to skirt past him. I walk to the car, wrenching open the heavy door and sliding inside. Sebastian looks over at me. He’s wearing dark sunglasses, hair a mess, and sporting a thick layer of stubble over his jaw. I don’t know how I look, but it must be pretty bad, too, because he says, “You okay? Someone’s ass need kicking? Reyn?” He turns to look at the house next door, forehead puckering pensively. “Yeah, he’s strong and fast, but I can take him.”
I sigh and sink down into the leather seat. “Just drive, Bass. Just drive.”
Becoming the master of Ignoring Things, I brush off the stares as Sebastian and I walk into the bunker together. Reyn stands quietly in the back and my eyes instantly search him out. The cup of coffee in his hand is about the only put-together thing about him. He looks terrible—dark marks under his eyes, rumpled shirt, unshaven like Sebastian. His green eyes track me closely as I come in, like maybe he’s assessing me the same way.
I take a seat between Georgia and Ben. Emory rushes in last, flustered. Annoyed. But my brother is an old school Devil, through and through. They rarely, if ever, show the weakness of emotion. It almost makes me feel a little better that I’ve been able to crack his armor. Almost.
He doesn’t waste time, jumping into the last-minute assignments for the prank.
Admittedly, with everything going on, I haven’t been totally plugged in to the details. “This is all about coordination and timing,” he says, eyes skimming over his notes. “Everything has to be done with surgical precision. It’s not just one prank. It’s two, set to go off like simultaneous bombs at the dance and the alumni meeting.”
I know that last twist had been Carlton’s idea. Why waste a good prank on the adults?
“Everything a go with the screens?”
“Yep,” Carlton says, kicking back. “Luckily, yearbook had this whole montage they wanted to play. Some lame-ass throwback to past homecomings. It’s perfect for both events.”
“What if we can’t get in the tech room? Or even the building?” Caroline speaks up. “It’s always locked up tight on the weekends.”
Reyn’s smooth voice cuts in, “That’s not a problem.”
“The biggest issue is linking the feeds and turning off all the security cameras,” Ben says. “I don’t know how difficult it’ll be to get into the network.”
“Wait, you tested it right?” Emory asks.
“Yeah.” Caroline glares at Ben like he just insulted her mother. “It’s not even over the network, it’s through a third-party streaming platform that’s about as secure as a wet paper bag.” She jerks her chin at Reyn. “If he gets us in, we’ll get it hooked up.”
“Good, good.” Emory rakes his hair back, a sign that he’s a little nervous. “Afton and Elana, you’re on the decorating committee, early access. Do you need anything?”
“We’re ready,” Afton says. “All the supplies have been ordered. The board gave us such a killer budget that I managed to insert our stuff in with theirs. They’ll never notice a thing.”
“And you’ll have everything at the ticket table?”
“Yep,” Elana says. “At both events. Whoever is working the tables will have everything at their fingertips.”
Having several of us working the welcome tables is part of the plan. It makes us noticeable and we’ll definitely need to be seen.
“Georgia and Tyson will work the table at the school. Vandy and I will be at Preston hall.” Emory nods to the boxes stacked by the door, the logo of a company on the side. “Every guest will get a sticker when they enter, and I do mean everyone.”
He continues, clarifying that Carlton and Sebastian will keep Dewey and the rest of the security team distracted, but I’m hung up on the fact Emory and I are assigned to work with one another. Last I heard, I was helping Reyn. I look at him now and he somehow knows, instantly meeting my gaze. We watch each other for an extended moment, something sure and firm passing between us.
“Are there any questions? Concerns? Confusions. Now is the time to ask.” He looks around the room, although notably, his gaze skips right over me.
I raise my hand. “I do.”
His shoulders tense. “What?”
“I’d like a reassignment.”
Tyson shifts next to me and Elana’s eyes flick in my direction, curious.
“Sorry, but no.” He shakes his head, turning away. “It’s already set.”
I give a big, fake smile. “I thought it was all set the other day when you assigned me to help break into the building.”
He shoots me a look that’s full of warning. “Well, I was wrong. Things change. Roll with it.”
“Jesus,” Sebastian mutters from his seat. “Does it really matter?”
“Yeah, let her swap out.” Ben’s dark eyes dart between us. “Who cares, right?”
“I do.” My brother’s eyes are as sharp as his voice, and when they jerk toward Reyn, his face just hardens further. “The answer is no.”
“Em,” Aubrey says quietly, but he moves right along.
Or, he tries to.
Voice hard, I interject, “We all need to be focused and on our game tonight. I’m telling you right now, if I have to spend an hour alone with you, I won’t be either of those things.”
Emory looks at me and everything goes quiet. I know the others are uncomfortably watching our standoff. Among those stares, I feel only the heat of Reyn’s eyes settled on me.
“Fine,” he relents through clenched teeth. “But I need you on the welcoming committee. Georgia, you’re with me. V can go with Tyson.” I’m not sure if Tyson feels the threat under the directive, but I know I do. “Now, enough of this. Everyone huddle up.”
Huddle up? Like a game?
There’s a shift of confusion where we all look at one another quizzically, but when Emory sticks his arm out in the middle of our circle, everyone reluctantly stretches their hands out to meet it. It’s a cluster of shoulders and arms, and I’ve never done a huddle before, but when I feel a familiar warm hand settling against mine, I lift my eyes, locking with Reyn’s.
“Hail to the Devils!” Emory says, ever the captain.
“Hail to the Devils!” Ben barks.
“Devils!” we respond as a group. It’s so stupidly silly that I almost screw my face up distastefully. But Emory is a captain, and he must know how it feels to share one voice as a unit, because as embarrassing as it is, I feel it.
We’re one. And we have an epic prank to pull off.
If I thought my drama and the looming event would get me out of going to Aubrey’s house to pick out a dress, I was wrong. She waits patiently for me in the parking lot by her dark gray BMW. I only get in because she pushes Emory away when he tries to approach us.
“Girl time is for girls only,” she explains primly, opening her car door.
I watch her curiously when I settle into my seat. The way she holds herself. How she manages to ignore my brother, who’s glaring at us as we exit the parking lot. “You’re different,” I observe. “From his other girlfriends.”
“You mean Campbell?” She raises an eyebrow, nose scrunching up. “God, I hope so.”
My laugh sounds lighter than I feel. “Not a fan, huh?”
“She’s a fucking tyrant. Made everyone’s life miserable.” She adjusts the heat and points to the seat warmers. I flip mine on. “I don’t hold her against him, though. Emory’s spent the last few years trying to find his footing in a world of assholes. I mean, I guess we all have been, right?” She snorts. “Living in the shadow of Hamilton Bates and Campbell Clark isn’t easy. For the first time in years, I feel like I can breathe.”
I’m surprised. I didn’t know the popular kids resented them so much.
“You may not know this,” she goes on, “but most of your brother’s bad decisions have been made under the influence of impressing those people.”
“I do know. That’s why…” I run my hands nervously down my thighs, “it’s why he and Reyn stole the car that night. It’s probably what gave him the guts to do what he did with Skylar,” God, I’m still reconciling that one, “and the prank with Micha.”
“Trust me, we’ve talked about that, particularly Skylar. It’s just…” her nose wrinkles, “gross. Repulsive. And I want you to know I wouldn’t be with him if I didn’t believe he was truly sorry for it.” She glances over. “I’m sure he hasn’t told you this, but he did contact her to apologize directly.”
I gape at her, stunned. “No, I didn’t.” Wow.
She nods. “It’s almost as if being part of that toxic group was like being under the influence of a drug.”
Well.
That I get.
“But they’re gone and he’s really determined to run the new Devils in a different direction. Less asshole-ish. More tradition.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure he regrets inviting me to join.” It’s not like I wasn’t already aware that he didn’t want me to in the first place. That was all Reyn, and only because I’d blackmailed him.
“I disagree,” she says, turning into one of the more expensive neighborhoods in our area. The security guard at the gate waves us in. “Honestly, he’s liked having you involved in this. He told me himself that it was cool to have you around this year. He just worries so much.” She cuts her eyes to me. “I don’t think
you know just how much.”
“I have an idea,” I mutter. “Did he tell you that he saw me and Reyn together?”
“Yeah.” She nods, squinting. “Look, I don’t care about you and Reyn. Actually, in a way, it makes total sense to me. Only the two of you know what it’s like to have gone through what you did.” She turns and heads the car up a long, twisting driveway. “And any idiot could see why you’re into him. He’s all sexy and cool and strong. A little mysterious. Very good at what he does.”
My cheeks heat. “Yeah, there’s all that.”
“I’m just telling you all that so you know,” she says, parking in front of a massive brick house, “you can talk to me, okay? I know I’m Emory’s girlfriend, but I can be your friend, too.” She cuts the car and looks at me, waiting for a response.
“Thanks,” I say, feeling awkward. Despite the fact I know she likes my brother and probably wants to get in good with him, the sentiment sounds sincere.
Later, when we’re in her room, I’m thinking that giving me this—a friend who doesn’t mind me being with Reyn—would probably accomplish the opposite of impressing my brother. She’s likely taking a risk here.
“Red would look stunning on you,” she’s saying, leading me into her closet. Although, to call this a closet would be like calling Lake Superior a pond. It’s furnished, for god’s sake. “But I’m thinking… red for a Preston girl is so pedestrian, right?”
I perch on one of the wingback chairs overlooking a massive shoe collection. “Uh, yeah. Pedestrian.”
If she hears the doubt in my voice, she ignores it, flipping through the dresses. “Black would be nice, but…” She gives me a look. “Too boring.”
I blurt, “I had sex with Reyn.”
She pauses, eyebrows rising. “Well, yeah, I figured.” There must be something on my face that signals this is more delicate than her usual ‘I had sex’ discussions, because she abandons the dresses, sitting in the chair beside me. “First time, huh?”