I shoot my eyes over to her, feeling them burn. “Nice, like you?” I ask. “Doesn’t look like being nice did you any good.” And I gesture over to J.D. who’s laughing with Masen.
Her boyfriend has barely spoken to her in days, probably because he knows what was written on the lawn last Friday was true—we all do—no matter how much Lyla denies it.
But then I do a double-take, it finally registering that J.D. is talking to Masen. When did they start being buddies?
“I can handle my boyfriend,” she says.
“And I can handle Trey. Thanks.”
I turn around and open the door, climbing into the Jeep. Lyla rounds the front of the car and slides into the passenger side, our little tiff still thick in the air. I wish she’d just go home. Every day is heavier and heavier with things I want to say to her, because I know she hates me. I want to call her on it, but I don’t know why. I can barely stand her, either, and there’s just as much bullshit to call me out on. Masen’s been doing it since he got here. Lyla and I are both hypocrites.
“Y’all, look at Katelyn,” Ten says, leaning up and gesturing out the front windshield.
I put my key to ignition and stop, looking up. Katelyn is talking to Masen again.
J.D. is gone, and she’s standing close to him, smiling and typing something into a phone. She then hands it to him, and he slips it in his pocket, looking down at her with all of his attention.
What?
My heart pounds in my chest, and I curl my fingers around the steering wheel, wanting to take her by the hair and pull her ass away from him. Really? Why is he looking at her like that? Why did he let her have his phone?
“Oh, God,” Lyla groans. “What is she doing?”
“She really is as dumb as a box of rocks.” Ten chuckles. “Five years from now, she’ll have four different baby-daddies. Just watch.”
My pulse rings in my ears as they laugh, but I blink, dropping my eyes.
Rocks.
Dumb. As. A. Box. Of. Rocks.
I raise my eyes, glaring at Masen Laurent. Motherfucker! That’s what he’s been calling me?
I turn my head away, so they can’t see me seething. Asshole.
Katelyn strolls away from him, looking all pleased with herself as she heads toward us.
“Did you just give him your phone number?” Lyla asks her, kneeling on the seat, one hand on a roll bar, another on the windshield.
Katelyn bites her bottom lip, trying to look coy as she holds my door and leans back playfully. “Well, I thought he might want it after last night.”
“Last night?” Ten presses.
“Yeah, I ran into him in the parking lot after cheer yesterday,” she admits, blushing as she drops her voice. “We were up late.”
She’s insinuating a lot more in those words, like she has a secret. My stomach fills with knots.
“What’s he like?” Lyla asks in a hushed voice, suddenly interested.
“Like an animal.” Katelyn grins. “I’m surprised I don’t have any bite marks.”
“Mmmm.” I hear Lyla’s soft coo.
Jesus Christ.
Katelyn walks away, smiling, and I do my best to act like I’m not sitting here, shattering right now. I want to believe she’s lying. He wouldn’t go for her. He’s not after a quick thrill, is he? He wanted me in the library. Me. He wouldn’t forget that. Not so soon.
But… He did say he knows where to go to get what he wants.
Like an animal. The biting, the roughness, the way his eyes and hands and mouth take what they want… She described him perfectly.
I swallow the lump in my throat. I feel nauseous.
“Well, I guess there’s something to be said for the bad ones,” Lyla muses, watching Masen climb into his truck. “And that piercing? I’ll bet it feels good. Everywhere.”
Ten squeezes my shoulder from behind, and I snap back into focus, uncurling my fingers from the wheel. My knuckles are as white as snow.
“Let’s go eat and raid my mom’s liquor before the drive-in,” he tells me. “Lyla’s driving tonight, so I’m getting wasted.”
Yeah, I don’t think I can eat.
But watching Masen take off out of the parking lot, probably going to do who-knows-who, I might just take a drink.
Friday nights at the drive-in are just an excuse for every teenager with a car in Falcon’s Well to hang out in one place. Especially since it just opened back up a few weeks ago in time for spring. The weather’s nice, there’s a concession stand with food, car stereos blast music, and I doubt even a quarter of the people here are even watching the movie tonight.
One of those stupid nouveau slasher flicks with lots of gritty pain and an ambiguous ending, I’m sure.
After dinner, I’d gone home and changed into some jean shorts and a tank top before Lyla and Ten swung by to pick me up.
Trey arrived with J.D. just as we got here, all of us parking up in the front row. They started making the rounds, going off to talk to different people and hang out, while I headed for the concession stand. My mom doesn’t let us drink our calories, so the movies is one of the only chances I get to have a Coke.
I walk inside the concession area and move down the line, grabbing a cup and filling it with ice.
“You dropped this the other night,” a smooth voice says.
I jerk my head up to see Masen, standing right at my side. Butterflies take off in my stomach.
I look down to see him holding out my inhaler and then quickly glance around, making sure no one is watching. I snatch it out of his hand and slip it into my pocket. Shit. I must’ve left it on the library floor after we…