shit, dude. It’s hard to know what’s normal and what’s not.”
I shake my head. “No, I get it.”
There’s a roar of laughter from the family room, shattering the stillness, and Emory smiles easily. “So hey, I wasn’t sure if you’d come.”
I follow him into the kitchen, explaining, “Warren didn’t give me much of a choice.” I drop the chips on the counter, and from here, I can see my dad giving Mrs. Hall a hug. “But it’s okay. I guess it’s time to finally break the ice or whatever.” Despite my words, my hands feel clammy. I keep rubbing them on my thighs.
He snorts. “I think you did that the other day when Vandy fell asleep at your house.”
“Fair point.”
He nudges me toward the patio. Once we’re outside, I grab a soda out of the cooler and pop the top.
“How are things going with her, anyway?”
I’ve got the can halfway to my mouth when I freeze. “What do you mean?”
He rolls his eyes. “With the rites, duh. You two have been partnered up so far. I know the tattoo was hard on her, but it sounds like it went okay?”
“Right, yeah.” I rub my thumb over the condensation on the can. “She came through like a champ. I told you, she’s a lot stronger than she seems.”
He bumps his can against mine. “Well, I appreciate you looking out for her. I know things have been tense for you two, but I don’t trust anyone else.” Wince. “And also, you were right.”
“About what?”
“About the Devils maybe being good for her. She needed to do something, and she already seems more involved this year. I mean, obviously it may be the fact that she’s not using anymore, but she seems invested in school, the club, her newspaper gig.” He glances over my shoulder and lifts his chin. “I do wish she’d stop hanging with Sydney so much, though.”
I turn to look, seeing Vandy and Sydney in the kitchen. Whatever they’re talking about, they both seem tense and look kind of annoyed. My eyes take in Vandy’s clingy black sweater and gold pleated skirt slowly. It’s easy to notice that she looks well-rested, easier still to notice that she looks hot as hell. She catches my eye and her face instantly flushes. It’s enough of a hello for me. Sydney glances my way and greets me with a small, flirty grin.
Yikes.
I exhale. “Yeah, I’m not a fan either. She seems pretty hung up on what an amazing friend she’s been to you sister, but I’m not sure I get that vibe.”
“Nope,” Emory agrees. “That girl is all about herself, trust me.” When he looks over again, his expression perks up. Aubrey’s here.
I watch the way his face changes, realizing, “You really like her, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess I do,” he says, straightening his Vanderbilt-gold oxford. “She’s way less complicated than Campbell.”
I remind him, “That’s a pretty low bar, considering Campbell is a controlling bitch.”
“She is.” He laughs. “Actually, that’s one of the things I liked most about her, but I won’t lie. It’s nice to be around someone who’s not scheming world domination all the time.”
He claps me on the shoulder and walks through the patio doors and into the kitchen. Aubrey beams when she sees him—seems like everything there is mutual—and he slips his hand around her waist. A spike of bitterness runs through me. What I’d give to walk up to Vandy right now and kiss her hello, mark my territory while everyone watches. God. Her parents would flip out. My father would send me back to military school. And Emory? He wants his sister to have a babysitter, not a boyfriend.
I know my place here. The troublemaker. The criminal. The one who isn’t good enough. I’m welcome in this house, under supervision. What would they say if they knew I’d spent the night upstairs with their daughter? That she’d had her warm body pressed up against mine? That I’d woken up that morning to her soft thigh thrown over my morning wood?
They’d call Fucking Jerry, that’s what they'd do, and it would be the last time I’d see her.
My instinct is to swipe something, quell the impulsive urges that heighten when I’m feeling shitty, but if something goes missing, I’ll be the first one they question. Vandy seems semi-tolerant of my habit, but not necessarily in her own home.
Plus, it’s not an expensive object I want in my hands.
It’s her.
I walk back inside, skirting the crowd forming around the TV. Kick-off