Reyn casts a furtive glance around before cupping my face in his hands. “Hey, they said you were crying.”
I reach up to touch his wrists, hypnotized by the way he’s looking at me. “Who said?”
“Everyone is.” His jaw ticks. “Apparently some dick hit you in the hall? Your brother is on a fucking rampage.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. Sebastian really had it right before. So much bullshit goes around this place. “He knocked my books out of my hands, and yeah, he was a jerk to me. But it really wasn’t as violent as all that.”
Reyn’s hands slide away. I tangle our fingers together as they drop. “Sebastian Wilcox to the rescue again?” He looks away, scowling, but I strain up on my tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.
“I didn’t need to be rescued.” Even Dr. Ross was right there. “But yeah, he put th
e fear of god into him, I think. It didn’t mean anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. We’re just—”
“Devils, friends,” he says, meeting my gaze. “I know. And I know you don’t need to be rescued. It’d just be nice to be the one who gets to do it every now and then.” Despite knowing that, he probably also heard about us disappearing into the bathroom together, he doesn’t look worried. He just looks pissed off.
Because I promised.
And he trusts me.
Suddenly, I feel so stupid. “No one rescues me as much as you do, Reyn.” He rolls his eyes, but I can see some of that tight tension leeching away from his eyes. “Also, it was nice of you to give Sydney a ride home yesterday.” I’m not even digging. Not prodding. I already know in my bones that there’s nothing to find.
His face screws up. “Yeah, I probably won’t do it again. I know she’s your friend, but honestly?” He gives me a vaguely questioning look. “I’m not entirely sure why.”
Instead of answering, I give him a kiss of my own. This one is slow and sweet—an apology for letting her get into my head.
“Think you can get away after school?” he asks. His fingers are playing at the hem of my skirt again. It always drives me crazy. “I got all that stuff we talked about.” He smiles at me so softly when we’re close like this, faces tipped together, that it’s a physical impossibility to not smile back.
“I’ll be there at five sharp.”
28
Reyn
“What’s all this?” my dad asks, walking into the kitchen. I can tell from the way he’s dressed, pulling on a jacket, that he’s about to leave for the night. It used to annoy me, but now it just makes me feel grateful. I’ll be able to sneak over to Vandy’s tonight.
I roll my eyes. “Remember? You talked to Mrs. Hall?” It’s ridiculous all the shit we had to go through to get a single parent-approved evening hanging out together. There were, in fact, three phone calls, a stern talking-to from my dad, and an email from Vandy’s mom containing her contact info ‘just in case’. Just in case what? Who fucking knows.
Comprehension dawns over his features. “Oh, that’s today?” He looks around at all the shit I’ve dragged onto the counter. “Should I stay?”
I shoot him a narrow-eyed glance over my shoulder. “I think I can manage to not almost kill her for a couple hours.”
My dad does not look impressed. “You know how the Halls are about that girl. I’ll just push my meeting a little later.” He takes off his jacket and I determinedly do not think of the way he skittered out the word ‘meeting.’ As if whatever booty call he’s putting on hold is some sort of business symposium.
It doesn’t matter, though. Vandy and I had already agreed that a successful parent-approved hang-out could only open up the possibility for future… meetings.
I watch from my periphery as he takes out his phone, thumbs tapping over the screen. Apparently, dad is in the stage in his life where he can postpone booty calls by text alone. Classy fella, my old man.
Out of nowhere, he lets out this long sigh. “I hope you’re using rubbers.”
I think a drop of saliva becomes permanently lodged in my windpipe. “What?”
He looks up at me, gesturing to my neck. “Rubbers. Wrap it up, Reyn, or so help me god…”
The hickey, I realize. I resist the urge to press my fingers into the mark Vandy made beneath my ear. I mutter, “I think I’m a little old for the rubber talk, so why don’t you just cross that off your list and pretend we did.”
“God damn it.” He slams his hand down on the counter, almost startling me. “I mean it, Reyn! The last thing you need is to knock up some idiot girl—and a Preston girl, at that. Your life is going to be hard enough. You want to be saddled with some princess’s snot-nosed brat for the next eighteen years?”
It takes me a long moment to form words, but when I do, gripping the counter at my back, all I can manage is an awed, “Wow.”