bunch of circling. Only like three actual blows before someone comes to break it up.”
Elana adds, “And they take off their shirts.”
“Yeah, what’s with that, anyway?” Georgia asks, squinting into the distance. “Have you noticed that guys always start undressing when they fight?”
Reyn gives her a blank look. “It’s so the other guy will have less to grab onto.”
“Yeah,” Ben adds, “you want to be uncatchable.”
“Sweaty and slippery,” Afton laughs.
Emory leans over the wall, clearly having heard the debate. “It’s like when girls fight. They always put their hair up and take out their earrings.”
“I don’t know.” Georgia shrugs. “Seems kind of sexy to me.” She looks instantly embarrassed about voicing this though, face going pink.
Aubrey raises her beer in agreement. “Hell yeah, it is!” Elana bumps the necks of their bottles together in solidarity.
“Well, well, well,” comes a voice from behind us. We all turn in tandem to see Heston Wilcox ambling up to our little group, tall and handsome, cigarette between his fingers. “All the degenerates are here, I see.” He and his brother favor one another, sort of. They both have strong, striking features. But where Heston oozes privilege, Sebastian gives off a darker, more frenetic vibe.
Elana makes a disgusted sound. “If you’re here, I know that’s true.”
“Just coming to watch my little bro besmirch our fine family name.”
Emory snorts. “I think you do that enough for the both of you.”
Heston doesn’t seem bothered by this, running his gaze over all of us. “This is a weird little group. Aren’t you that mathlete nerd?” Caroline flicks a pigtail over her shoulder and ignores him, but he’s already moved on. “Shackleford. Wade. Riggins. Holt shit.” His eyes stutter when they reach Reyn. “Sticky-fingers McAllister? I thought you were in prison or something.”
Reyn gives him a look that’s dripping with disdain. “Military school.”
Heston lets the chill of Reyn’s voice pass without mention. “Didn’t realize they’d released you back into society.”
“How’s college?” Afton asks pointedly, and I use the veil of my hair to hide a grin. It really is pretty pathetic of him, still hanging around the high school crowd.
“Good,” he says a little stiffly. If anyone thought Heston would suffer real consequences for what he’d done, they didn’t understand the power of his family. He pulls out a notebook and a bag, and asks, “Okay, who’s putting money down? The bets so far are on first blood, KO, and winner. Street fight rules, first one down loses.”
“You’re the one taking bets?” Ben asks, looking about as uncomfortable as I feel. It seems like Heston isn’t just taking bets. It seems like he’s the one organizing it.
“Yep.” Heston taps the notebook. “Personally, I’ve got three grand on the Northridge kid to win, but a grand on Bass drawing first blood. Kid’s all temper, no strategy.”
Emory gapes at him. “You’re betting against your own brother?”
Heston shrugs. “Why not?”
“Because he’s your brother!”
“So?” Heston takes some money from Carlton, who glares as he puts it on Sebastian to win. “Doesn’t mean he’s not a twat.”
Emory shakes his head. “Dude, that’s fucked up.”
It’s beyond fucked up. Heston doesn’t think Sebastian can win, but he’s still willing to make sure he fights?
Heston’s eyes suddenly land on me. “Not all of us can have a sweet little thing like Vandy as a sibling. Finally let the princess out of the castle, huh? Who’d you let down your hair for, sweetheart?” He reaches out, like he’s going to touch my hair, and I can feel Reyn stiffening beside me, radiating tension. I duck out of the way before his fingers make contact and he clucks. “Aw, don’t be like that.”
Emory barks a sharp, “Back the fuck off, Heston,” but he just smiles at me.
“Don’t sweat it. Baby V and I have a whole rapport.”
I recoil, snapping, “No, we don’t. And don’t ever call me that.” My neck prickles in sudden, scorching anger. Only one person here is allowed to call me Baby V, and it’s certainly not Heston Wilcox. I’ve always hated him most, and not just on account of our ‘rapport’. Reynolds might have gotten Emory in trouble, but friends like Heston? They made Emory mean. I know Heston was the one behind the vandalism about Micha last year. Well, everyone knows, because Hamilton Bates beat the shit out of him for it. Too bad I couldn’t have been a spectator to that fight.
Heston’s grin turns predatory. “Sure, we do. Remember? The Christmas party?”
Emory’s eyes shift suspiciously between us. “What the fuck does that mean?”