A Deal With the Devil (Boys of Preston Prep 2)

“What is it to me?” I feel my eyes flashing in resentment. “It’s my best friend willing to risk my second chance here because he refuses to let his sister out of his sight for ten minutes. It’s superfucked, Em.”

Emory rears back, face falling. “It’s not like that.”

“Yes, it is.” I lean forward, as though getting closer could will him to understand. “And you know what the worst part is? I’d do it, just because you asked, even though it’s a shitty plan with no guarantee to work. You think the next group of Devils are going to protect her, based on what, exactly? You think a Wilcox—” I press two fingers to my temple, incredulous, “—a Wilcox, of all motherfuckers, is going to stand between her and the assholes of this school? Fuck’s sake, Em, we are the assholes of this school.” I shake my head, falling back into my chair. “There’s only one way she becomes untouchable, and that’s to make her one of us, too. And if you were thinking straight, you’d see that.”

I can see the moment he realizes I’m right. The tight pucker of his brows slowly eases into something slack and disappointed. He takes a deep breath and looks away. “The last time I got her involved in one of my schemes…” He rubs his hands nervously over his knees, head shaking. “I can’t go through that again.”

“So don’t. But I’m out, too.” I shrug, feeling weirdly empty. “I’m willing to do this if it’s for Vandy, because I owe her that much. But anything else isn’t worth it.”

“This is all moot.” Emory leans back in his own chair, arms crossing. “She’d never go for it, anyway.”

I roll my eyes. “Dude, trust me. She’ll go for it.”

He challenges, “How can you be so sure?” and I feel my lips pull up into a hard smirk.

“I happen to know a thing or two about being locked up and never allowed to have any fun.” I push an annoyed exhale through my teeth. “Em, the girl’s bored out of her damn mind. You said it yourself, she feels stifled. If someone asked her to McDonald’s, she’d probably break out into a Disney song.”

Emory scoffs. “This is different. This is some serious rule-breaking shit. You know Vandy, she’s a saint.”

Because that’s all you ever allow her to be.

“Just ask her,” I say instead. “If she says no, then we can have a backup.”

“You realize that some of this shit is going to pair us off—Devils and Playthings. Are you really telling me the thought of Ben or Carl or a Wilcox doing stuff with Vandy doesn’t make you want to barf?”

Oh, it does more than make me want to barf. What it does it make me want to hit something, preferably a face, and preferably with my boot.

My hands are still reflexively fisted when I toss out, “So if that happens, I’ll be her partner.”

Emory seems to be mulling this over. “So you’ll put on a show, if necessary, to make it legit as possible.”

“Exactly.”

“I can’t believe I’m—” Emory rakes a hand through his hair before rising to his feet. “If I approve this, she’s off limits to everyone in the club. That has to be a rule.”

Part of me kind of balks at this on Vandy’s behalf. Sure, she might be a bit naïve and goody-goody, but she’s capable of making her own choices. Instead of saying this, I simply agree, “Fine by me.”

As he begins pacing around the space, he adds, “And she has to agree to be okay with this. She may not even want to be near you, and I’m going to need your eyes on her. I don’t trust the vultures around here, bro. I know my sister is pretty, and I know a few of them would love to sink their claws into her. That shit is not going to happen, you get me? She’s immature, and has very little social experience. We’ll have to keep tabs on her.”

I feel my mouth slant, but still give a slow nod. “Yeah, that’s…understandable.” What it is, is pretty annoying. I don’t want to be a babysitter, standing between Vandy and four other guys. The only thing I want between are this Afton chick’s thighs. But I know I have to do it, to keep her mouth shut. At least for a little while. “You know me, dude. I’ll look after Vandy like one of my own.”

His pacing slows to pensive shuffling. “Since all of this is on the down-low and no one knows about it, you two being in the same group shouldn’t be a problem, right? Like, the administrators won’t find out. No one will find out.”

I agree, “That’s the idea.”

Emory finally falls back into his chair, most of that crazy energy having drained out of him. “So, we can make this work.” He sounds skeptical, but accepting.

“Yeah,” I agree, refusing to meet his eye. When all this blows up—and it will, once Vandy gets the Chronicle to publish her paper—Emory is going to kill me. If she keeps her word, we’ll both be long gone before that happens.

She corners me the same as last time, a quick exchange in the breezeway.

“What’s going on? It’s been three days.” Her eyes are all shifty and annoyed, arms crossed over her chest. She’s wearing her hair differently today, all tied up in a knot at the top of her head. A wayward lock keeps fluttering over her forehead, and she swats it away. Her eyes look tired, strained. “I’ll go to Dewey.”

Like usual, I can’t tell if she’s trying to be genuinely threatening. Honestly, I doubt her going to the dean with such limited information would do much harm, not when someone at the school wants the Devils active again.

But it’s a risk I can’t take.

“Calm your—” I swallow the word ‘tits’ before it slips out of my mouth. “Everything is good, but you’re going to have to wait a little longer for details.”