“Afton,” I answer awkwardly. “I’ve seen you looking at her.”
There’s a long stretch of silence where I cringe internally. It isn’t until we hit a stoplight that Reyn flicks his turn signal and finally answers. “I spent three years in military school. I think a lot of girls are pretty.”
“Well, she is.” I focus out the window at the sinking sun, feeling self-conscious and strange. “Pretty, I mean.”
He looks away to turn, face neutral when he responds, “Yeah, but she’s not really my type.
“No?” I hate how quickly it comes out. “From the looks of it, you can probably take your pick. Who is?”
“I don’t know.” His hands grip and release the steering wheel. “I guess I’m still trying to figure that out.”
“I saw you go into the Devil’s tower after that first game,” I admit. “I thought you were going to meet a girl.”
“Sneaking around again?” he says teasingly.
“No.” I narrow my eyes. “If anyone was sneaking around, it was you.”
“As you know, I was meeting your brother.” He comes to a stop sign—we’re getting close now—and while the car idles, he gives me his attention. “The Stairway to Hell isn’t really on my radar right now.”
“Whatever.” I flap a hand dismissively. “I bet your name is already up there.”
His expression is guilty enough for me to know that it’s true, but he says, “I wasn’t here long enough to really make a mark.”
I idly wonder, “Do you think that, because the other girls and I are officially Devils—well, Playthings, I guess—we’ll get to put our names up there? Assuming there’s opportunity for any of us.” Not that there’ll be any for me. Who would I even go up there with? What would we even do? That train of thought brings back some of the tension I’d had from earlier.
“I’m not sure,” he says slowly, eyes going inexplicably tight. “I don’t know the rules about that—for girls. We’re in new territory, I guess. Before, the Playthings were just…” He pauses here, and I know he’s editing. “Just the girls who hung out with us. But now you’re a member.” His eyes dart over, eyebrow quirking. “Look at that, you’re already shaking up the patriarchy. Maybe you should get your own spot on the beam.”
“Yeah, right. Like anyone would want to.” I scoff. “And anyway, I’m not doing this for me. I’m in this for the sake of the community, our peers. A secret society isn’t really opening doors for anyone.”
I’ve been diligently taking notes and collecting evidence for my article. I take screen captures of the meeting times, photos of the box and key in my locker, the envelope, all of it. I’ve even saved the slip of paper telling me and Reyn what to do tonight. I felt a twinge of guilt as I did it, though. The Devils are so important to my brother, but he’s also graduating this year. Honestly, all three of us need to move forward and leave this kind of trouble behind.
We cross the bridge into Thistle Cove, and I point to the scrubbed remains of what had been a memorial. “That’s where she jumped. Rose Waller? They thought she was dead, but she wasn’t. She was just in hiding from her crazy dad.”
“It should make me feel better that Preston isn’t the only fucked up place in the world, but I’m not sure it does.”
The GPS leads us to the school, but it wouldn’t be hard to find, anyway. The campus takes up a central location in the middle of town, a historic three-story school building, and a big stadium ablaze with Viking pride is visible from the street. My nerves increase the instant we turn onto the property, then heighten even further when Reyn drives around back, locating the gym. The sky is little more than a blot of deep gray as he backs his Jeep into a spot by the edge of the lot and cuts the engine.
Silence fills the cab. We both unclip our seatbelts, and he rests his head back against the seat, eyes falling closed. It occurs to me that the drive here was probably the most stressful part of the night for him. Meanwhile, I’m still looking at a long stretch of tangled nerves.
He takes a breath and finally opens his eyes, looking more settled in this moment than I’ve maybe ever seen him. He says, “I want to wait until it’s totally dark,” and twists, stretching toward the footwell of the back seat. I watch curiously as he pulls a brown paper bag into his lap. His eyes look less crazed than they had while he was driving. Now, they’re just heavy, tired-looking. “I brought snacks,” he explains.
I take the bag and look inside. Chocolate, buttery croissants. I shake my head, “No thanks.”
“What?” he frowns into the bag, and I almost feel a little bad. “You don’t like them?”
I press a hand into my stomach. “Honestly, I’m too nervous to eat.”
His eyes flick to the gym. “You’re worried about breaking in? Because you know that’
s not a problem.”
“I’m not questioning your thieving superpowers.” I roll my eyes. “It’s the ‘not getting caught’ part that worries me more.”
He takes an aggressive bite from a croissant, jaw shifting as he chews it down. “Not getting caught is one of my superpowers, too.”
I watch him scarf down an entire croissant in two bites. “Boys,” I mutter.
“Hm?” He’s got a crumb hanging on the corner of his mouth and my fingers twitch.