A Deal With the Devil (Boys of Preston Prep 2)
The rain comes in a sudden, rippling blanket of downfall. Everyone in the quad instantly scampers for cover, fanning out every which way. I don’t bother trying to run like that—couldn’t even if I wanted to—so instead I walk toward the closest awning, in front of the arts building.
It’s there that I see him.
He’s standing alone in the narrow, covered path that connects the old academic building to the athletic fields. I watch as his gaze slides down to his wet arms. He gives them two feeble shakes.
I walk toward him without giving myself a moment to think about it, shoes squelching in the wet grass as rain pelts my head and shoulders. Every step that brings me closer to him makes my heartbeat quicken, until it’s a sharp, rapid percussion in my chest. When I reach him, he’s turned away, and I spend a prolonged moment staring at the shell of his ear, stomach churning.
“I need to talk to you.”
Reynolds tenses, shoulders hitching up just enough to be noticeable. He turns to peer at me over one of his wet shoulders, those green eyes tightening. “We’re not supposed to be together.”
I’d suspected as much. Not that anyone told me. “That’s why I waited until I could catch you alone.”
“Christ,” he mutters, head shaking. “I’m not doing this.” He moves to continue down the corridor and I reach out, grabbing him by the bicep. It’s rock hard and bigger than my fist. He easily jerks away, eyes flashing as he turns to me. “Are you deaf?”
I swallow, and my voice isn’t anywhere near as hard and sharp as I’d like it to be. “I just want you to answer one thing for me.”
He chews out a terse, “What?”
“What is this secret thing you and Emory are planning?”
He snorts a humorless laugh, gaze jumping to a group of students in the distance. “So you were eavesdropping.”
“No,” I insist, grasping the straps of my bag in a tight, frustrated grip. “I was saving a chipmunk while you guys were loudly discussing something nefarious.”
“Nefarious?” He rolls his eyes, the muscle in the back of his jaw going rigid. “Just leave it alone. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“No,” I say, and there it is. The sharpness. The determination. Finally. “The last time I left something alone with you two, I regretted it.”
His eyes finally land on mine, something dark and full of warning within his gaze. “Drop it, Baby V.”
The nickname clings to the air like a memory of something painfully personal. He’s the only one who ever called me Baby V. I see it now for what it always was; a way of putting me in my place. It’s how he got me in that car. It’s how he manipulated me.
Not anymore.
“If it’s not a big deal,” I say, raising myself to my full height, “then tell me what you were talking about.”
His shoulder jerks up in a stiff shrug. “Can’t.”
“Why not?”
The curve of his brows pucker in annoyance. “Because, I promised your brother I wouldn’t.”
Great. Because stupid teenage boy loyalty always works out so well. “Tell me one thing,” I demand, not flinching at the darkness in his eyes. “Is this going to get the two of you into trouble?”
His eyes hold mine. “Not if I can help it.”
A flare of irritation runs through me and I hold up my hands. “God, why are you doing this? You just came back home! Emory is so excited that you’re here. Last year was super shitty and a lot of bad stuff went down. Most of his friends graduated, his girlfriend graduated…” I implore him with my eyes, “Why are you risking getting kicked out again?” I might not know this new Reyn, but one thing is for sure. “You’re not this dumb.”
Something in his expression shifts at my outburst, the crease in his forehead transforming to something seeking, confused. “It’s not like that.”
“How would I know?” I scoff, my anxious gaze tracking two passing students. I wait until they turn the corner to ask, “If it’s not dangerous, then why can’t you just tell me?”
With his hand clenched around the strap of his backpack, he turns away, face shuttering. “We’re done.”
“Wait.”
He doesn’t.