The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys 1)

“Jesus, stop,” I told the runaway train of shit talk as I pocketed my phone. “Can I have a little hope for one fucking minute?”

“Talking to yourself again, Stratton?”

I looked up to see Frankie Dowd standing a few feet away,

“What do you want, Dowd?”

“Who me? I got nothing to say to Evelyn’s bitch.”

I snorted a laugh. If only he knew. I started to push past him, but he stepped in front of me.

“Where you going?”

“None of your fucking business.” I balled my hands into fists. “You going to move, or I do I have to move you?”

“How? You gonna sic your rabid dog on me?” He grinned like a loon. “Oh, that’s right. Wentz isn’t around, is he?”

Something in his knowing tone dripped down my spine like ice. I gripped Frankie by the collar and yanked him to me. “What do you know about it?”

He tore out of my grip and walked backward, hands outstretched. I wanted to punch the shit-eating grin off his face. “Don’t know a thing. See you around, bitch.”

When he was gone, I pulled out my phone again and shot a text to Ronan as I walked out of the school. Fuck going to gym.

Where U at?

I’d walked halfway home when the reply came.

City Hall picking up my citizenship award.

I gave a short laugh. Ronan was so much fucking smarter than anyone knew. Street smart and a smartass. But I recognized his deflections.

For real. U OK?

It was risky, prodding him even that much. He might go radio silent on me as a signal to mind my own business.

Stay out of my shit, Stratton.

Case in point.

But Ronan was being Ronan. I sighed with relief that he was okay, but I needed more assurances, and Evelyn’s news was like an electric current, zipping around my nerves and balling in my stomach. I needed to talk it out before I puked. I wanted to sit around a fire at the Shack with my friends. Ronan would give me no end of shit, while Holden would want to throw a party. And both reactions would mean everything to me.

And Violet…Violet would cry and tell me she’d known it all along. Because she’d believed in me since the beginning. I blinked hard until the phone came back into focus.

Shack 2nite? I texted.

I walked another block before the reply came.

Busy. Can you tell Lord P to put the fucking weights back when he’s done?

Another deflection. Ronan would never ask for a favor. Ever. Even one disguised as a gripe. I tried another tack.

Haven’t heard from H. U?

But I already knew Ronan was done talking.

“Fuck.” My concern for him ratcheted back up. I texted Holden, but there was no answer with him either. There wasn’t anything to do. My friends would talk when they wanted to talk. I had to respect that; I demanded the same from them.