Emory looks at me for a long moment. “You really think it’ll be fine?”
“Yes.” No hesitation.
After a minute of nervous shifting and overly dramatic sighs, he nods slowly, like he’s warming to the idea. “Well, if you’re both really sure you can pull it off, then maybe…” He glances back at Vandy. “Maybe it can be a good thing. Maybe you two can work out some of your shit. Things are tense enough around here, you know?” He rubs a hand over his drawn face. “I mean, fuck, I don’t exactly enjoy staying up until four in the morning stressing over this shit.”
“Right, that’s what I’m thinking.”
Lie.
What I’m really thinking about is that she had a choice between me and Tyson, and she didn’t choose pretty-boy Tyson.
She chose me.
He scribbles my name on the piece of paper and finishes up the rest. By this point, everyone has arrived. Apparently, no one else had a problem figuring out how to unlock the door. I sit on a musty armchair and take another bite of my breakfast, assessing the group.
Sebastian, who looks about as tired and stressed as Emory, has a new shiner swelling under his eye. Afton is next to him, studying her nails like she’s bored, and maybe she is. This is probably kid’s stuff to her. Georgia is sitting with Ben, talking about the game last night, and Elana’s animatedly telling Carlton about the cops showing up at the party the night before.
In the middle of Elana’s summation of events, it finally happens.
Vandy’s gaze flicks to mine.
She doesn’t look nervous, but her cheeks instantly begin blooming a soft, warm pink. If she were any other girl I’d just kissed, I’d be smirking at her, or winking, playing it up, putting it on to build the promise of more. But because it’s Vandy, I just dip my chin in a nod and lift my cup of coffee to my lips.
I don’t miss that her eyes follow it.
We both look away when Emory gathers everyone’s attention.
“Tonight is the second ritual,” he says, reading from a slip of paper. “Now that we’ve had to entrust everyone with our deepest, darkest secrets, it’s time to prove our loyalty to the Devils and our school.” He starts handing out the slips of paper. Vandy looks at hers, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and peeks at me quickly before looking away. “Each slip of paper has your partner’s name on it, along with a rival school on the back. Each school has their thing, like how the Devils have the pitchfork over the stadium entrance that everyone touches for luck. Sparrowood has the crest that hangs by the gymnasium wall that they bring to each game. You catch my drift. You’ll each have until tomorrow at dawn to complete your assignment and prove your loyalty to Preston Prep.”
It takes a moment for everyone to find their partners. I’ve got a mouthful of egg and bacon when she stands over me, holding up the slip of paper. “Looks like we meet again.” She narrows her eyes at her brother. “Though I’m sure he tried to stick me at the kids’ table.”
“Northridge is the kids’ table?”
“Absolutely,” she says, eyes rolling. “But I told him to ask you, just in case…” She’s wearing a purple cardigan, and she tugs the sleeves of it over her fists, expression uncertain. “I know I’ll probably slow you down.”
“Nah,” I say easily, looking around. “No more than any of these other people.”
She gives me a doubtful look. “I’m kind of surprised he’s letting me do it, honestly.”
I swallow my breakfast and crumple up the foil. “Maybe he just wants his best friend and his sister to get along.”
“Or he wants to keep me away from every other guy here.” Her blush, which had begun to fade, comes back with a vivid, red vengeance, and I know exactly what she’s thinking.
I’m the only guy here she’s kissed.
“What’s the assignment,” I ask, hoping to distract her from the ugly truth of that.
“Thistle Cove,” she says, smoothing the paper. “We have to replace their Viking helmet with devil horns. The helmet’s in their trophy case just inside the gym, so we just have to get in there and take it. Sounds like he picked the perfect task for you.”
I take the slip and read it for myself. “To be fair it says ‘replace’, not ‘steal’, but if we have to break into something, I’m your man.”
We strategize for a bit, coming up with the supplies we’ll need to pull it off. Thistle Cove is an hour away, which means we’ll need to leave early enough to scope it out before dark. We spend a while pulling up photos of the school on our phones. She points out to me where the cameras will be, but doesn’t know the interior of the school well enough to guess which doors we should take. A PDF classroom map, internet aerial view, and a trip down a few of the students’ ChattySnaps reveals enough photos and videos to make a crude estimate. We huddle over the slip of paper and I grid it out, mapping the way.
While we talk and plan, my gaze keeps being drawn to her mouth, like a magnet. Her lips are pink and only marginally glossy, like she’s wearing Chapstick. They look as soft as they’d felt last night, and if I allow myself to really sink into the memory, I can still recall the texture of her tongue when it greeted mine, the way she tasted like that bad grain alcohol and something so warm that it ignited my spine.
I spend just as much time fighting the urge to look down at her bare legs.
By the time we’ve roughed out a general path, I’m half hard and most everyone else is gone. Only Emory and Aubrey remain, still jotting down notes across the room. There’s no doubt he specifically chose her as his partner.