Nathan laughs. “Nice, Garrison.”
I almost choke on the liquor. “Dude.” I gape and nudge his side hard. My hood falls off my head.
They don’t know our names, but now they fucking know mine. I look up, and Loren Hale is staring straight at me, his eyes full of sympathy—I don’t get it.
I’ve fucked with him for months.
Hate me, I think. Fucking hate me.
“What are you looking at?” I practically spit. Help me.
“You,” Loren says with hot malice.
I feel sick, my neck scorching now, and I lower my gaze to the table.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Loren begins. “You all have two options.” We stay quiet, waiting for him to say, Jail. Jail. Jail.
“You can stop the pranks,” he continues, “never come around our house again. If you’re that bored, I wouldn’t mind hiring some of you to work here. If you don’t want a job, I get it. You can have a discount on comics if that’s your thing.”
What?
I stare off in a fucking daze. Who is this guy?
Ryke says, “And I’d be willing to teach all of you to rock climb at the gym. But you can’t drink.”
“Sounds like so much fun,” Nathan says with a dramatic eye roll, grade-F level sarcasm.
I tear a corner off the paper bag. “And the second option?” I ask. Jail.
“You vandalize our house again or harass our girls, and we’ll press charges,” Loren threatens. There it is. “The minute we even see your goddamn pinky toe on our lawn, I’m calling the cops. Take it from someone who’s been in jail, you don’t want to be there. Even for a couple hours.”
I let out a short laugh. “When were you in jail?” The guy grew up as a rich trust fund kid like the rest of us. His dad could’ve bailed him out before the cops even put on the cuffs.
He captures my gaze. “I doused some asshole’s door with pig’s blood.” His voice is edged and chilling.
My face begins to fall.
“No way.” Nathan gawks.
I straighten in my seat. “Yeah?” I ask, more curious. “Where’s that asshole now?” What’d he do to you? I really want to ask.
Loren shakes his head and shrugs. “I don’t know. That shit is long gone, man.” His voice tries to soften, but his tone mostly cuts me inside out. “You’re going to leave prep school and you’re going to take your mistakes with you.” He looks at my bottle. “You can stay here if you hand that over and don’t cause any commotion. Otherwise, you have to go.”
“We’ll go,” John says before I can decide. He nods to me. “Let’s buy that six-pack and head to the elementary school playground.”
I don’t think I can drink anymore without puking. Not because I reached my limit—I just feel like I’ve digested something that doesn’t go well with vodka or beer.
But I don’t want to be alone right now.
So I rise with all of my friends. As I near Loren to exit, I look him over. I’m so fucking conflicted about everything—about who this guy is. About what he just offered. Take it.
And then I lose all of my friends. They’re never going to back down. They have this stupid prank set up, one that involves gargoyle masks. They’re not going to stop in favor of getting free comics or a rock climbing lesson.
I don’t want to be alone.
But I don’t want to be here either.
What escape do I really have?
I think short-term, and I shove the bottle in Loren’s hands. “Here, you won’t be such a pussy if you drink.” If I push him away, then he’ll make my decision for me. He’ll revoke his offer.
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even look mildly pissed. He just says, “If that’s what you think.” He tosses the bottle in the nearby trash.
I’m stunned for a second. I had my first beer at twelve. You’re a man now, kid, Davis told me and rubbed my head. My dad laughed.
In this moment, Loren Hale looks and acts more like a man than I do, and I was holding a fucking handle of vodka. I have no fucking clue what’s rolling around inside of me.
I can’t look at him anymore. Rubbing my mouth with a shaking hand, I pull my hoodie back, and the door chimes as I push through, catching up to Nathan.
When I glance back at the store window, I see that girl—the one with the braid and worn overalls. I see her stand up and approach Loren Hale.
I nod to myself. Good for her. She finally found him. And she didn’t need me to do it.
4
willow moore
“Loren?” I ask in a soft, timid voice. I scoot around Ryke Meadows.
Both brothers are so tall that I have to tilt my head back and look up. Maybe if they were shorter, I wouldn’t be nervous. Maybe if they weren’t famous. Maybe if I didn’t know more about them than they know about me. Maybe if they weren’t the current focus of every teenage girl in Superheroes & Scones.