“I can’t leave my brothers,” I say, starting to pull away just as I see Duke. I grab his hand, and we run. We’re laughing, but my heart thuds with fear and excitement and danger all rolled into one. My brothers don’t let me do this kind of thing, don’t include me in it. Baron’s with us by the time we hit the door, bursting out into the chilly, damp evening. A haze surrounds the streetlamps, and music thumps faintly from inside the hall. Our footfalls echo across the pavement, along with Dolly’s laugh, which is bigger and bawdier than I expected, and Dixie’s girlish giggle.
Blue lights bath the parking lot in a silent, incessant pulse like a heartbeat. Devlin leads the way through the parking lot, skidding to a stop when we reach his new red convertible. He hits the top, and it recedes while we all wait, barely able to contain ourselves from leaping in before the top’s down. Devlin is already in the front seat, dragging me into his lap. Colt hops over the door into the passenger seat, hauling Dixie over the side of the car into his lap. All I can see are her legs sticking up over a front seat full of satin and tulle, and I start laughing as the car lurches forward.
Colt whoops from under the ocean of Dixie’s dress, and Devlin swears and swerves out of the lot, shooting through the night. The cool, damp wind snatches my breath as we streak through the dark streets of Faulkner. The moon hangs like a round, white pumpkin in the sky, millions of stars flung out from it in every direction. I take a deep breath of the fresh air. This is small-town life, but it feels like I’m living bigger than I ever have before.
We wind along two-lane roads through the woods, at last pulling up in a gravel drive that’s all too familiar.
“Welcome to the after party,” Colt says, spilling out the door with Dixie still in his arms. The twins hop out, each of them holding one of Dolly’s hands. So that’s how that’s going down, then.
“Shit,” I say. “We left Royal.”
“He can have the limo,” Colt says.
“And my date,” Baron says. He and Duke crack up, and Devlin leads us up the steps and into his mom’s house. It’s apparently empty.
Devlin leads us into a small alcove off the kitchen and throws wide the glass doors of a set of cabinets. Expensive bottles of liquor are packed into every inch.
Colt grabs a bottle of tequila and hefts it like a trophy. “Let’s get the real party started!”
twenty-three
I wake to the pounding in my own head. I’m cocooned in warmth, and for a minute, I don’t want to move. But as consciousness swims up to meet me, I remember the night before. I roll over, only to find myself staring at a horrifyingly bare chest.
“Fuck!” I whisper, sitting up and staring in disbelief. “Fuck fuck fuck.”
I’m not wearing anything but a bra and underwear, and something on my stomach feels sticky. I close my eyes and pray it’s vomit. I remember getting sick. I remember Devlin feeding me shots until I puked, and then trying to feed me more, but I kept puking until he gave up. What I don’t remember is after that. I don’t remember leaving the party. I don’t remember losing my pants. I don’t know how I got here. I don’t even know wherehereis.
When I open my eyes, the boy is still there. The beautiful, terrible boy who tormented me on Friday night and came for me on Saturday like a claiming. The boy whose parents didn’t even care enough to interrupt when he held me down and held a knife to my face, and the boy who refused to leave a high school dance until he’d had one dance with me. The boy whose arms are wrapped around me like a lover’s, whose face looks like an angel with the sun gleaming off his blond strands as they lay rumpled on the pillow.
For one second, I think about letting him sleep. About letting him wake up and think it was a sweet dream or not remember it at all.
But he doesn’t deserve that courtesy.
I lean away from him, holding the blankets to my chest, and slap his shoulder. Hard.
“Hey,” I bark.
“Ow,” Devlin grumbles, moving away from me a little but not opening his eyes.
I shove his shoulder this time. “Wake up.”
“What’s your problem?” he mumbles, propping himself up on his elbows. As recognition dawns on his face, he pushes himself up to sitting and drops his head into his hands, muttering curses under his breath.
“What’s my problem?” I ask, an incredulous laugh bubbling from within me. “Are you fucking serious right now, Devlin? What’s your problem? No, don’t even answer that. There’s not enough time in a day to explain how truly and deeply fucked up you must be to do what you did to me the other night, and then waltz into the dance last night like you wanted me.”
He lifts his head and blinks at me as if he thinks I might morph into someone else. “Did we fuck?”
“I don’t fucking know,” I say, throwing my hands up. “The last thing I remember is taking shots until I blacked out.”
But oh god. I remember more than that. It comes back to me in flashes, like photographs of somebody else. Everyone leaping into his car. The ride through town that felt like all of life was in that car. Shots. Dolly sandwiched between the twins. Oh god. Did I give Devlin a lap dance?
“Are you on birth control?” he asks.
Like that’s his only concern. Whether he knocked me up. Like it’s no big deal as long as I’m on something.
Of course, to him it’s probably not. That didn’t look like the first time he got hammered and out of control. But to me… To me it’s a big fucking deal.
“No,” I admit, my eyes searching Devlin’s crystal blue gaze. For the first time since I’ve met him, he looks genuinely concerned. There’s no sign of his sadistic smirk or his angry scowl. For a minute, I let myself think we’re in this together. That if I’m pregnant, he’s going to be part of it.