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

“What exactly do you want to hear, Emory?” I raise my voice, tension rolling up my spine. “You want a play-by-play? You want to hear about how I fingered her two weeks ago? You want to know when she sucked my dick? You want to know what we did in the Stairway for the fifth rite?”

Bad move.

Real bad move.

“I knew it!” He slams his fist into the locker beside my head. “And you stood here and made me feel like the bad guy for suspecting anything! What else, huh? How many times have you lied to my fucking face so you could get into her pants?”

I laugh bitterly. “You’re insane. You can’t handle the thought that Vandy has been out there making choices you don’t agree with, but instead of being angry at yourself, you’re just taking it out on me. News flash, Em! You have massively disturbing control issues! I can’t believe they have her in therapy and completely failed to realize that you’re fucked in the head.”

He pulls his fist back again, but I’m not going to just stand here, this time.

I square my shoulders. I’m taller than Em. Stronger. He’s a pussy quarterback, all protected and coddled. I’ve spent my life getting piled on. I can take him in a heartbeat.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” I hear Carlton coming down the row of lockers, but I don’t break Emory’s gaze.

“Why don’t you tell him?” Emory says, nostrils flaring. “Come on, Reyn, don’t be shy. Tell him how you almost killed my little sister, then came back three years later to take advantage of her like a fucking—”

I plant both my palms into his shoulders, shoving him with enough strength that he stumbles back into the lockers. “That’s not what fucking happened!” I can take a lot. If Emory wants to be pissed at me? Fine. I’d let him hit me, if that’s what he needed. But I can’t take this thing I have with Vandy being dragged through the mud like that—all twisted up into some ugly, hurtful, monstrous thing.

Emory gains his footing and is immediately flying toward me, but suddenly Carlton and Ben are there, separating us.

“What the hell, you guys?” Ben shouts. “This shit ain't buddies!”

Red-faced and irate, Emory thrusts a finger in my face. “This gutless asshole fucked my sister!”

Carlton lets out a slow, “Aw, shit,” and looks at me wide-eyed.

Ben winces. “Jesus Christ.”

“She’s seventeen!” I shove Carlton’s hands away. “If she wants to be with someone, that’s her

business! You’re not going to stop her.”

“Watch me.” His voice is low and deadly.

“You’re going away next year, genius!” I press my finger to my temple. “V and I are staying right fucking here.”

His eyes narrow. He knows it, which is why he adds, “I will tell my parents, your dad, and Headmaster Collins that you took advantage of her. I’ll tell them you broke into Thistle Cove. I’ll drive my fucking truck off a bridge and tell them you did it. Try me, motherfucker! I’ll have your ass tossed out so fast, you’ll wish you never stepped foot back here.”

“Whoa,” Ben says, arms extended between us. “Can’t we just talk this out? I mean, Reyn doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d—”

“What do you know?” Emory spits.

“I’m just saying,” Ben tries, voice calm. “Maybe we need to just cool off for a bit, let Vandy clear this up.”

“Shit is perfectly clear,” Emory replies, cutting his eyes at me. “You and me? We’re done. You’re never going near her again.”

I scoff. “You need to figure out how to tell your sister that, because I don’t think she’s going to take it very well.”

He shoves a finger at me. “You leave Vandy to me. She has never been, and will never be, any of your fucking concern. That ship sailed three years ago, when you almost killed her. Or have you forgotten that?”

He turns back toward his locker and grabs his stuff, carrying it past me toward the door. Carlton and Ben are looking between us, wary.

My nerves are still firing, and I’m pissed off, but beneath that is the same thing I’d seen in Emory’s eyes before. It’s hopeless and sharp and wants to strike back. There’s only one thing I know that’ll hurt him as much as I want to, so I call out, “I want my senior shirt back, asshole!”

Emory takes two steps and freezes, slowly turning to glare at me over his shoulder. “I don’t have anything of yours.”

“Yeah, you do.” I swear, Ben and Carl must sense that whatever’s about to come out of my mouth won’t be good, because they start inching between us. “You picked it up off her floor.”