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

The thought is still pinging angrily around in my head when Carlton offers me the joint, and yeah. I’m pissed about this, too. “Can’t,” I say, jaw clenching. “Got a piss test next week.”

Carlton just says, “Bummer,” and lights it up for himself.

The fire, coupled with this sudden hurricane of impulses I can’t cave to, has me tense and all coiled up, and there’s nowhere to put it. So when Emory drops down next to me, giving a quiet, “Sup,” it’s all I can do to not reach over and bust him in the face.

I give a tight nod instead, emptying my beer.

At least Carlton can read the room. He instantly hands me another.

Emory says, “Sorry for that shit with Heston. Told that asshole to lose my number.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” I say, nodding over the fire. “Apologize to Vandy for letting him get in your head.” Another addition to the long list of things I’m pissed about is Emory ever being friends with tools like him in the first place. I know it’s not fair. If things had been different, I probably would have been part of the same crowd.

“I did,” he says. “V and I are cool. Thanks for having her back.”

I close my eyes, rubbing my fingertips roughly into them. “I can’t be her babysitter, Em.” It stings to say, because I know how it sounds. Like she’s a burden. Like I don’t want to protect her. Like I’d rather do anything else than be at her side. Even if all those things aren’t true, the words are. “If I’d decked that prick, I’d be sitting in county right now. I don’t know what you expect me to do.” I take a long drag from my beer.

“I don’t expect you to do anything,” he says, sounding incredulous. “I just asked you to look out for her. I never meant you had to throw fists to do it.”

“Yeah,” Carlton adds, passing the joint over my lap to Emory, “we already have a fighter.

It all worked out.”

I scowl across the distance, to where Sebastian is now teaching them something with their knees. Vandy’s edging back, looking awkward about it, but Aubrey threads their arms together.

“Sebastian makes a lot more sense now,” Carlton says, nodding in his direction. “Can you imagine growing up with an ass like that? I didn’t even know Heston had a younger brother until junior year. Guy’s got ‘single golden child’ written all over him.”

Just then, a loud peal of laughter rings out, drawing our eyes to Vandy. The fire is playing sharply against her face and it makes something inside me thrash instinctually at the contrasting sight of wrong and right. She presses a hand to her mouth, like she’s embarrassed about being so loud, but then ducks in close and says something that makes Aubrey giggle back.

It’s weird how easily something loosens within me at the sight of her smile, bright and happy.

Still in my jacket.

“She looks like she’s having fun.” Emory sounds glad. “That’s really all I wanted. I mean, if you want, I can pair her with someone else for the rites.”

“What?” I say, whipping my head around. “Why?”

Emory gives me a look. “You said you didn’t want to be her babysitter anymore.”

“No, I didn’t.” Only I can’t exactly explain the difference between ‘don’t want to’ and ‘can’t’. Instead, I just say, “That’s not what I meant. It’s fine. We’re fine.” Without the rites, we’d hardly have any Emory-approved reasons to hang out anymore. I know she’s not over there all laughing and happy because of me. But I had to have contributed to some of it.

Didn’t I?

He looks confused, but he takes a drag from the joint and passes it back to Carlton. “You don’t seem fine. You look pissed.”

“Not about Vandy,” I insist. I look into the fire, the cinder and sparks, and distract myself with catching the panic. Gathering it up and packing it away, bit by bit. I tell him, “I could have kicked his ass,” and tip the bottle to my lips.

“That’s what you’re so pissed about?” The tone of surprise in Emory’s voice is jarring. It’s getting really weird that I can feel something so enormous, and no one can just look at me and somehow know. “Of course, you could kick his ass. Georgia could probably kick his ass. Heston isn’t the physical kind of guy, you know that. He’s all about fucking mind games.”

“I should have,” I say, finally looking my friend in the eye. “If you heard some of the shit he was saying about her, you’d wish I did.”

Emory jabs a playful elbow into my side. “Look at you, getting all big brotherly. Now you’re getting a taste of how I feel all the time.”

Big brotherly is not the way I’d describe it. I give him a tight smile, elbowing back. “You know V’s my girl.” I say it just like Sebastian did—totally casual—but it rings too true in my own ears.

Emory just looks pleased.

We both look in her direction, toward where Sebastian is assessing her. “This is your dominant leg, isn’t it?” I track him carefully as he bends down to tap her bare knee. “What’s the deal with this thing? What’s your range of motion?” It’s her bad leg, and I’m not sure what makes me tense more; the question itself or the easy way he just touched her leg.