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

“Maybe we should get takeout,” she suggests, shifting in her seat. Her skirt rises, giving me a view of the edge of her tattoo, kick-starting my heart. I tamp it down, not wanting another demonic boner possession situation on my hands.

“Yeah, I think that’s a better idea.”

The food doesn’t take long, Vandy waiting in the car while I dip inside to order it. When I return to the Jeep and get back on the road, we’re both quiet. I know from the drive to Thistle Cove that she doesn’t like for the windows to be rolled down. She knows from the same trip that I don’t like music playing when I’m driving. In other words, by the time I park at the clearing overlooking the lake, the silence has grown into something charged and uncertain.

“Reyn?” she asks quietly, eyes looking over the lake. “What is this?”

I turn to look at her, the way the lights play against the soft curves of her face, the delicate bow of her lip, the fan of her lashes. I reach across the center of the car and gently cup my hand behind her neck. “That kiss wasn?

?t just to distract you,” I admit. “I want this.” Quieter, I add, “I want you.”

She swallows and eases the bag of greasy food onto the floorboard. “Wanting what isn’t yours is kind of your thing, Reynolds McAllister.” Her voice is soft. “Just promise you won’t toss me into a drawer or leave me on the side of the road when you’re done.”

I sigh, thumbing that patch of skin below her ear. “That’s the problem, Baby V, I haven’t been done with you a day in my life.” What she doesn’t understand is that it’s different with her. It’s easy to steal, but so much harder to take something willingly given, because those things are more than conquests or shiny trinkets. They’re precious, a responsibility.

“I’m not the kid I used to be, Reyn.” Her eyes flutter closed, and if I look hard enough, I can see the shadow of that girl who used to look at me like I hung the moon. But she’s right. She’s not that kid anymore.

“Neither am I.”

The kiss that follows is slow and quiet, like a secret.

19

Vandy

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Huh?”

Sydney points her fork at me and swirls it in front of my face. “You’ve been a space-cadet for two days.”

Well, she’s not wrong. I haven’t found myself alone with Reyn since that night in the Jeep, after the tattoo, so I keep running over the memory to sate my thirst. It’s not like it was anything earth-shattering. We kissed, we ate, we kissed some more, and then he drove me home.

Still, it was the perfect date.

And now I keep finding myself wondering if that’s what it even was—a date. There was kissing and food and scenery, and that all seems pretty date-like. There was also Reyn’s hand around my neck, thumb rubbing into the spot behind my ear as he licked lazily into my mouth. It’s like now that I know I can have it, it’s all I can think about. Reyn’s mouth. Reyn’s hands. Reyn’s rough fingertips skating across my jaw. The sound of his breath every time we pulled apart. The way his eyes looked, glazed and yet sharp, like he was drunk and sort of frustrated about it.

Of course, then we’d stepped out and meticulously cleaned out the Jeep to free it of any hamburger-related messes. This new Reyn, I’ve found, is a bit anal retentive, and if I didn’t know the source of it, it’d be painfully cute. As it stands, I could see the anxiety creasing his forehead as he picked a piece of lettuce from the console.

Sydney brings me crashing back to the present when she looks at me, eyes sharp and accusing. “Oh my god, are you high right now?”

I balk, casting furtive glances at the people around us. “Excuse me?”

“The way you’re acting today?” She raises her eyebrows. “That’s sure what it seems like.”

I grip my fork and want to tell her that the only thing I’m high on is the boy who just walked into the dining hall. Obviously, that’s not happening. “Well, I’m not,” I snap, face heating. “And maybe you can ask that a little louder next time. I don’t think they heard you over in Canada.”

She shrugs. “No one’s listening to us.”

I sigh, eyes moving back toward where Reyn is waiting in the lunch line. “You can’t ask me that every time you think my behavior is a little off.”

Before I can think to be more careful, her eyes are following mine. She looks at Reyn, then back at me, eyes full of pity. “Please don’t tell me your delusional crush on Reynolds McAllister somehow managed to survive despite everything.”

Now, I outright drop my fork. Delusional? “What are you talking about?” DELUSIONAL?

“Oh, come on. The way you’re looking at him right now?” She rolls her eyes, looking at him again. “Everyone always knew you were crazy for him, and it’s not like you were alone. None of us were being realistic back then, even when the competition was mediocre.” When she meets my gaze again, her face is full of sympathy. “Is that what has you so spacey this week? Because if it is, then we need to find you someone to shake it off. That way lies a path of rejection and relapse.”

Sydney Prescott has literally stunned me speechless, because I can’t even tell her how wrong she is. Instead I have to sit here and be told that I don’t have a chance with Reyn, despite having had his hand between my thighs two nights ago. The pressure inside my head rises until I can finally grind out a quiet, “Did it never occur to you that I might just have stuff going on?”