Devil May Care (Boys of Preston Prep 1)

“You worry too much about what other people think,” he kicks back on his bed, scrolling through his phone again. “You think those people target you because you’re strong, but you’re wrong.” He says this matter-of-factly, nodding his head. “It’s because they know you care. It makes it easy for them.”

I give him a weary look. “Are you saying I should just stop caring when the people I love get hurt?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m saying that it’s not your baggage. You don’t have to burn and salt the earth for us. You hold grudges like it’s your job.”

“So, what?” I scoff. “I should just go and be friends with the people who bully you?”

He gives me a look like he knows exactly how stupid I’m being. “I might be twelve—almost thirteen, thank you very much—but even I know there’s a difference between being friends with assholes and not being friends with anyone, ever.”

“I do have a—" I start, but stop when he gives me a glare. I exhale. “When I drop my guard, people get hurt.” I get hurt.

“When you drop your guard, you let people see the real you, and I think that scares you—just like it scares you to see the real them.” He sighs, those big eyes boring into mine. “People are flawed, Gwen. Sometimes they need to be forgiven for the stupid stuff they’ve done. But the way you hold grudges... you never want to listen to the apology. It just makes it hard, you know?”

I stare at my twelve-year-old brother and wonder how he got to be the mature one. He’s right, I don’t want to listen to apologies. They’ve always sounded like excuses to me. I don’t think people deserve a second chance. Should a mother get a second opportunity to hurt a child? Should a boy get another shot at breaking a girl’s heart? Do they even want to?

I give Micha a tight smile. “I’m really glad you’re doing okay.” I pull him into a hug, smiling when he tolerates it with a roll of his eyes. “I’m so proud that you’re my brother.”

“I know,” he says, giving me a grin. “That’s one of the reasons I’m able to be this strong. You’re a badass, Gwen, but you can still be a badass and live your life. Don’t let it isolate you.”

“I won’t,” I tell him, but I don’t add that I’m pretty sure it’s probably too late.

Tyson whines pathetically, “Gwen, I need your help.”

I pu

rse my lips, looking at him skeptically. “I’m really not sure I’m the one you should ask.”

“You’re a girl.” He gestures to me, expression befuddled. “Presley is a girl. You have the golden ticket. You have the inside scoop.”

I flip through the hangers, looking for the right size. Tyson and I are at the mall. I’m here to get an Atlanta United soccer jersey as Brayden’s Christmas gift. Tyson apparently has no idea what to get Presley, and assumes that simply having a vagina somehow makes me an expert on her tastes.

“I barely know Presley. How in the world would I know what she wants?”

He groans. “But you must have the general gist! Come on, you know how it is. Jewelry seems like it’s too much for where we are, status-wise. Clothing is tricky. Trinkets seem lame.”

“Well, what does she like?” I find the right size and pull it free from the rack. “Food? Experiences? Sentimentality? Something practical?”

He rubs his chin, expression thoughtful. He’s let his beard grow out since school began winter break a week ago. It’s depressingly thin. “She likes stuffed animals.”

I raise a dubious eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Those really soft ones. She has, like, this whole collection.” He frowns. “There’s a pretty alarming amount of penguins.”

“Well, there you go.” I carry the shirt over to the checkout counter. “There’s a shop downstairs the twins used to love. I bet they’ll have something she’d like.”

We get in the long line and I idly check my phone, curious if I have any messages. Skylar’s coming home today for the first time since she left for the program. It’s just a visit, but it’s a big step. It’s also the first thing I’ve felt excited about in a long time.

“Hey, guys.”

I turn and see Xavier is standing behind us, a bundle of sweatshirts in his arms.

Tyson grins and they bump fists, which, in my opinion, seems a little friendly for their relationship. “Hey man, what’s up?”

“Christmas shopping.”

“Same,” Tyson says miserably.

Xavier’s gaze flits to me. “Hey, Gwen. How are you doing?”