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

She’s right by the door we enter through, eyes fixed to a plaque on the wall. Her blond hair is pulled up into a ponytail, sweater wrapped tight around her, and she looks almost as tired as I feel.

When she hears the door open, she whips around. Her eyes go alight when they land on me, and I’m not expecting it. I’m not expecting her to be here. I’m not expecting the way she looks at me, so full of fear and something soft and assured. She jumps to throw her arms around me, and I’m so stunned that I drop the bags to catch her, instinctively folding her into me.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, clutching my neck. Her cheek is smashed against my jaw, but she turns her face to press a quick kiss to it. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” She pulls back to take my face in her hands. “They kept telling us to wait and wait, and the guy who took our statement wouldn’t tell us anything, and Gwen’s mom—”

I cup the back of her head and haul her back into me, squeezing tight. Her hair smells clean and flowery and I bury my nose into it, breathing her in. “You shouldn’t have done that,” I whisper, voice hoarse. “You’re going to have a record now.”

I can’t stand the thought of her going through what I’ve had to. Everyone always watching you, waiting for you to fuck up. Watching other kids get away with shit that would send you packing. Knowing that the smallest infraction could topple your house of cards. Vandy doesn’t need it. She has enough to worry about.

She makes a confused sound into my neck. “What? I’m not going to have a record.”

Puzzled, I say, “But… you told them.”

“I did,” she confirms, squeezing me back. “I told them everything. I told them they were mine and why you took them, and I’m—I’m not in trouble, Reyn. At least,” She pulls away, giving me a look, “not the legal kind.”

It’s only now that I notice the other people in the room. Mr. and Mrs. Hall are rising from a pair of lobby chairs, watching us. I step back like I’ve been burned, banging my elbow on the door behind me in the process.

Vandy rolls her eyes, bending down to collect my bags. “Relax, they know.”

There is absolutely nothing relaxing about that statement, so it achieves the exact opposite.

Before I can properly indulge in the imminent freak out—her mom does not look pleased—Emory barges through the door of the station. He’s got a pair of shades perched on his nose and a tray of coffees in his hands. His jaw is a whole rainbow of blues and purples.

“Oh, they set you free,” he says, handing the coffees to his parents. “About time. We’ve been waiting here since the crack of Vandy’s phone alarm.” He whips off his shades and I suck in a hiss. His eye is seriously fucked up.

Wincing, I say, “Sorry.” I think he probably knows I’m apologizing more for the eye than the wait.

“All’s well that end well, or however that goes.” He punctuates this by pulling me into a one-armed hug that takes me by surprise. He mutters a quiet, “Thanks,” slaps me hard on the back, then flattens a sweaty palm to my face and shoves me away. “Idiot.”

I bat him away, dragging a hand down my cheek. “What’s everyone doing here?”

Vandy’s mom opens her mouth to speak, but Emory beats her to it.

“Oh, this one here,” he jabs a thumb in Vandy’s direction, “could not be contained. Mom wouldn’t let her come unless they came,” he jabs a thumb in their direction now, “and I’m here because this is all hilarious. Also because it gets me out of school.”

Vandy mutters, “Shut up, Em,” and laces her fingers in mine. “Maybe we can all get some breakfast. I know Reyn has to be hungry, and we didn’t eat before—”

“Before you dragged us all out the door,” their dad finishes dryly.

Their mom sees our clasped hands and looks like she wants to flay me with her eyes.

“That sounds like a nice idea, Vandy.” My dad looks at Mr. Hall and says a touch too cheerfully, “Wouldn’t that be nice, Rob?”

Rob says just as cheerfully, “Very nice,” but he’s looking at his wife in much the same way someone might approach a wild animal. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to get the vibe going on here. Everyone is either cool or, at the very least, down with faking it.

Except Denise Hall.

“So.” When I get into the car with my dad, he shoots me a long look. “Vandy, huh?”

I groan, thumping my head against the window. “Yes, okay? It was Vandy.” It was always Vandy.

He just shakes his head, pulling away from the station. “You don’t make things easy for yourself, do you?”

“No,” I agree. “I really don’t.”

We all meet at The Nerd.

To say shit is weird is an understatement of epic proportions.