by Angel Lawson
She looks over the railing and waves down at a group of cheerleaders, wide smile tugging at her lips.
I decide to take a shot. “Did she ever cross those boundaries with you?”
The smile fades and she looks at me, hair tumbling over her shoulder. “What are you asking me, Kenley Keene?”
I swallow. “Did Rose ever…you know, hook up with your dad?”
I wait for the meltdown. The defense. Maybe a slap across the face. Instead, her standard, all the time, queen of all bitchfaces falls and she whispers, “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t put it past her. And I definitely wouldn’t put it past him.”
Her reply hits like a punch in the gut—the answer to a question I’d been dying to ask but ultimately didn’t want to know the truth. I fumble for words but land on, “I’m really sorry.”
A fat tear falls down her cheek, dirty with mascara. “I don’t have proof, but I saw the way they acted together, and how sometimes when she spent the night, I’d wake up and her bed would be empty—for hours. I never went looking for her, and I never asked. When I found out about the SugarBabies account, I was glad. She could move onto someone new and leave my family alone.”
“Have you said anything? Don’t you want to do something about it?”
Juliette takes a deep breath and wipes her face. “What would I do? My dad may just be a coach, but he’s a powerful figure in the community. I have no proof. Rose is gone—her suicide proving her to be an unreliable, troubled person. There’s no way I’d embarrass my mother like that, and I’m certainly not putting myself through the public humiliation. Rose is gone and hopefully he’s learned his lesson.”
She looks down at the party, at the pretty, popular girls, Kayla James included. I have no doubt she’s aware this reaches further than one girl.
She struggles to her feet, taking the bottle with her. “Keep your mouth shut about this, Kenley. My family’s reputation isn’t the only one at stake. Brice Waller would cut a bitch before he lets this type of information out into the world.”
I scramble up. “And you’re okay with that?”
“I told you, all of this is dangerous and dirty. Mired in politics and ego. We’re talking about men, Kenley. Filthy, privileged, horny, controlling men. The last thing you want is for them to think that you may be a threat.”
A flash pops in my head. “Is that what Rose became? A threat?”
Her chin trembles but she clamps her mouth shut. “I’m not talking about Rose anymore, ever. She wouldn’t have wanted me to talk to anyone about her—especially you.”
She stumbles off, swaying on her feet. She catches the railing and slowly clomps down the stairs. I lean over the rail and watch her meet up with her friends below, waving the almost empty bottle in the air, like she has zero fucks to give about anything.
Ezra catches my eye and holds it—like he knows what just happened. He’s also told me about the risk of dangerous men. Maybe I’m like Rose, I can’t stay away from trouble, but I don’t think that’s what it really is; I just want to make sure no other girls get hurt.
25
Finn
It’s eight a.m., and I’m standing outside Kenley’s window like a stalker. To be honest, I thought the sound of me landing on her roof and stumbling would have woken her up, but when I looked in she’s curled up in her bed, fast asleep.
I push at the jamb and the widow rises. A few seconds later I climb in, managing to avoid knocking anything over, and step over to her bedside. I kneel to wake her but stop, needing a second to take her in. I’d assume my heart was racing from the acrobatics it took me to get in here, but that’s not it. It’s what happens every time I’m near her.
I know Kenley doesn’t completely trust me. Why should she? I didn’t man up the way I should have years ago. I hurt her, and I let immaturity, ego, and a bunch of other petty bullshit rule my actions. I could have handled everything differently, including telling everyone Rose and I’d broken up before she went missing, but I sure as hell didn’t know she wasn’t going to be at school that day. I wanted to let her decide how to handle the breakup at school. That never happened, and now, I’ve got a flock of girls following me around, hopeful to be my next girl.
That’s not going to happen.
I have a girl.
And I don’t care if I have to share her with two other guys.
All I want is her in my life.
On my knees, I lean over and bush aside a few pieces of hair sticking to her cheek. She shifts and blinks with her big, blue eyes, first still asleep, then confused.
“Finn?”
“Hey,” I say, clenching the object in my hand, while my heart beats like hummingbird wings. “Good morning.”
She rises to her elbows, giving me another view of that thin cotton shirt she sleeps in. This time she’s not cold though, her skin pink and warm. Her breasts strain against the tight, thin fabric, and my body reacts accordingly.
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s homecoming,” I say, suddenly feeling foolish. “And I couldn’t do one of those big public proposals, like writing your name in cupcakes on the football field, and I couldn’t go grab you after the big win last night and kiss you under the goalposts.” I lift up the flower, a big, fat, orange Gerber daisy I bought down at the market that morning on my run. Her eyes soften when she sees it. “I can’t give you a corsage tonight, or walk in with you on my arm, the kind of thing that lets everyone know that you’re taken, that I’m taken, but I want you to know that you’re mine. And I’m yours, even if only four people know it.”
She lifts a hand out from under her blanket, revealing the pale skin of her stomach and tiny shorts low on her hips. Her hand slides down my cheek and across the back of my neck. I swallow, letting her make the move, pulling me forward, and when our lips meet, it’s like a dam breaks.
Her mouth is as warm as her body, her lips soft. My body hums being close to her. It’s all I want, all day, every night, but I’m playing it as cool as I fucking can to earn her trust. Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer—to her bed.
“Lie next to me?” she asks.
I hesitate, because that’s not why I came here, but I’m eighteen and my body pumps more blood down than up. I kick off my shoes and climb in, engulfed by her warmth. Immediately I sense a difference in the way she touches me, the way her body responds. Her hands, her hips, her mouth. It’s more forward, more engaged, less timid.
I suspect it has something to do with the matching shit-eating grins she and Ozzy wore all last night.
Something’s changed.
“There were a lot of years I thought about you coming in that window. First as a friend, then different—more like a fantasy. I don’t think I ever really thought it would happen.” Her hand presses against my lower belly, and I lean my head back into the pillow, willing self-control.
Fuck it.
I roll into her, ready to respond with my mouth, my hands, my body.
Fate has other ideas.
Both our phones vibrate at the same time, chirping identically. We both freeze—accustomed to this kind of warning—the alert to something bad. The last thing I want to do is stop, but our eyes lock, and we know there’s no putting off reality.
She reaches to her bedside table for her still-charging phone. I pull mine out of my hoodie pocket and read the message.
Ozzy: Just posted on Janice Hill’s ChattySnap feed.
A link follows.
We shift to a sitting position, bodies side by side, and I open the app and click on the link. It’s a new report, Janice Hill standing in front of the Thistle Cove Stadium. Bright lights and purple and gold marking homecoming celebrations.
Janice holds the microphone close as she speaks to the camera. “Friday night proved that traditions, not tragedy, rule the small town of Thistle Cove. The undefeated varsity football team easily won their game, taking them one step closer to securing a region win and moving on to the state finals. But floats,
parades, and touchdowns can’t mask the grief that’s consumed the community for the past month. Reminders of what—and who--they’ve lost with the disappearance of Thistle Cove Sweetheart Rose Waller hit especially hard on a night like tonight.”
The camera cuts to the fifty-yard line, where I’m forced to see an image of myself next to Mr. and Mrs. Waller. The whole thing was a blur—I’d hardly been paying attention. Mr. Waller spoke about community strength and Mrs. Waller, Regina, linked her arm with mine, holding on like I was a life preserver. In her free hand is a bouquet of pale pink roses, in honor of her daughter. I know Kenley left during the halftime program, so she watches it now with narrowed, studious eyes.
“You’re kidding,” she says, mostly to herself as the camera pans to a makeshift shrine down on the track. Rose’s megaphone and pom-poms, complete with picture. Mrs. Waller leans the bouquet against the megaphone. “God, that’s…”
“Too fucking much.”
She nods. “No wonder Juliette was wasted last night."
The camera shifts to Mr. Baxter. “When Rose went missing, I offered a reward for information in helping find her. I’m now changing that reward of ten thousand dollars into a scholarship fund for troubled young women in the Thistle Cove community.”
“Ezra Baxter’s generous contribution is just one of the things that makes Thistle Cove an amazing town.” Janice says, comes back on screen. “The past and present continue to meld in this thriving community. Football victories, a centennial celebration that’s bringing alumni back into focus.”
A flash of Waller, Chandler, and Baxter standing by the endzone, hands fisted, showing off their state rings.
“But events like this remind us that Rose isn’t the only teenager that’s suffered a terrible fate in this town. We’ve been reminded of Jacqueline Cates, another young woman that went missing one fateful night. She was found days later, strangled and beaten, left for dead by the side of water’s edge.” Janice turns her camera on Chief McMichael. “Chief, what can you tell us about this nearly thirty-year-old cold case?”
He looks her in the eye. “Not much, but if anyone has any information about a crime, we’re always open to hearing about it.”
Janice’s face fills the screen, her eyes filled with a spark of light. “You heard the Chief, if you know anything, please come forward. Until then, keep your thoughts and prayers on the citizens of Thistle Cove as they fight for better days.”
The video stops. Kenley is frozen next to me. Finally she says, “Holy shit.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I wonder where she got all that information about Jacqueline Cates?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know, but it’s about time someone started paying attention around here.”
“Kenley? You up?” Her mom calls.
“Yeah mom! Give me a minute!”
“Shit,” I mutter, jolting at the sound of her mom’s voice, half falling out of the bed. I reach for my shoes and phone.
She hops out of bed while I cram my feet into my sneakers.
“See you tonight?” she asks.
“Yep.” I grin. “Tonight.”
I climb over the desk and out the window, where I look back one last time. She’s picked up the flower and has it held to her nose, a small smile playing at her lips.
Tonight, I think, readying myself for the leap back to my house, no matter what, needs to be perfect. Drama and Rose free.
To make that happen, I already know that I can’t do it alone.
26
Kenley
“Honey, you look amazing,” my dad says as I walk down the stairs.
My skirts swish with each step, the layers of crinoline bouncing against my thighs. My mother snaps three pictures before I even get to the landing.
“Mom.”
“I’m sorry, but you look gorgeous and I’m taking as many pictures as I want.” There are tears in her eyes, and I know some of this is the stress and strain of losing Rose. Because of that, I relent.
“What time are you meeting Alice?” my mom asks, reaching out to fuss with my hair. I have it back in an artfully messy bun that took me two hours to get exactly right. I won’t deny that I spent extra time getting ready. I want to look good for the guys. Good for myself. The dress I bought three months ago at a vintage store is killer, and my mom is right. I look pretty freaking hot.
“Um, I think we’re going to just meet there.”
Yeah, I haven’t told my parents about the break Alice and I are currently taking. It just seemed too much and honestly, would make them start asking a lot of questions about where I’ve been, who I’ve been spending time with…things I’m not ready to start answering.
My plan is to drive to the school, buy my ticket and walk in stag. I can handle that.
But as I pick up my keys and walk to the door a long, sleek, black car pulls up to the curb.
“Who is that?” Dad asks, pushing aside the curtain.
“I don’t know.”
The driver gets out and walks around to the back door, opening it. A dark head of hair pokes out, followed by tan skin and a brilliant toothy smile. Ezra hops out, pats the driver on the shoulder and walks up the front path.
“Is that Ezra Baxter?” Mom’s voice is instantly curious.
I get it. Ezra on a typical day is good looking. Ezra in a perfectly cut suit and tie? Yowza. My knees buckle.
I fumble with the door and open it, looking between him and the car.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was picking up a few people. Thought you may need a ride.”
My heart beats erratically.
Mom replies for me. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Ezra. I’d feel much more comfortable if Kenley didn’t have to go alone.”
“Mrs. Keene, nice to see you.” He reaches out and shakes Dad’s hand. There’s no doubt they’ve heard the rumors—know the gossip about Ezra and his troubled past. It’s evidence of how much they trust me that they don’t think twice about him offering me a ride. “I’m happy to offer KK a ride to and from the dance. Make sure she gets there and back safely.”
God, what a kiss-ass. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately? I’m not any more immune to his charm than anyone else.
“Ken,” Dad says, holding my eye. Okay, my dad may be less charmed. “Are you okay with that?”
“Yeah, Ezra and I have class together, and we’ve been hanging out some. It should be fun.”
He nods his approval. “Be home by one. Call if you go anywhere after the dance and don’t get in trouble.”
“When do I get in trouble?”
His eyes flick to the boy and fancy car behind him. “It’s my job to say it.”
“Gotcha.” I walk over and kiss him on the cheek, then give my mom a hug.
Ezra smiles and offers me his arm, and I hook mine to it; we walk toward the car.
“You look fantastic,” he whispers.
“You look pretty good yourself.”
The driver opens the door and I climb inside. Four legs sprawl across the spacious inside. Ozzy, looking handsome in a button down and blue tie that matches his eyes. It’s not the lack of T-shirt or grubby jeans that has my attention.
“You took off your hat!”
He runs his hair through his shaggy, wavy hair. “I feel naked.”
I laugh, then look at Finn. He’s in a dark blue suit with a small plaid weave. He’s wearing a bowtie in a similar blue. He hands me a second flower. “You look gorgeous.”
I smooth out the chiffon of my dress. It’s actually also a dark blue, not that different from Finn’s. I narrow my eyes. “Did you match my dress intentionally?”
“Today may not have been the first day I’ve sneaked into your room.”
My cheeks heat, remembering what it was like seeing him first thing in the morning. It was a sight I could get used to.
Ezra climbs in last, taking the seat next to me. The driver slams the door, and I shake my head. “What is all this?”
&nbs
p; “That,” he says, pointing to the driver getting into the front seat, “is Robert. My dad uses him when he travels to and from the city and doesn’t want to worry about his car.” He opens a small door, revealing a small refrigerator. He pulls out a bottle of champagne and four glasses. “This is us having an amazing night together to celebrate our senior year.”
“Isn’t this a bit much?” Ozzy asks, watching Ezra peel off the foil and carefully uncork the bottle.
“I feel like our first real outing together deserves some recognition.” He pours the bubbling liquid into each glass. Finn passes them around.
“You want us to all go in together?” I ask. My gaze lands on Finn.
He nods. “I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not. And one thing I know for certain, is that while I’m not tied to Rose Waller, I’m also not single.”
I look at the three of them. “So we’re making a statement?”
“Babe,” Ezra says, scooting next to me. His arm snakes over my shoulder, and his cologne smells like heaven. “It’s a statement that we don’t give a fuck, not about labels, not about status, not about what people think.”
“And definitely,” Ozzy adds, “not about Rose. She got last night. You get tonight. I don’t want to hear a goddammed word about her, got it?"
There’s a fire in his eye. I like it. I hold up my glass, gesturing for them to do the same. We clink them together and I reply, “Got it.”
The champagne bubbles tickle my throat while it goes down, filling my stomach with excitement. The guys are right, tonight is about the living, not the dead. We’re going to keep it that way.
It’s obvious right off the spot that we’re not the only ones ready to let go of ghosts for the night. The whole gym vibrates, and not just from the DJ’s thumping bass. The energy of the students is palpable. The girls look amazing, decked out in their best shimmery dresses, hair curled, nails manicured. The boys are caught somewhere between surprisingly handsome or awkwardly uncomfortable.