If they’re good, with a lot of alcohol, sex, and good music, you usually don’t know about them unless you’re in.
Next year, they’ll pass it forward and act just like me. For tonight, though, they will bask in my afterglow but only from afar.
“He’s been working on the new chick for like, two hours or something.” Colin takes a sip of his beer, nudging Knight’s thigh for him to pass him the joint.
“Via?” My mouth goes dry. I hope they are not hooking up. Penn absolutely hates Gus and vice versa.
“Yeah, her.” Colin yawns, pointing at me with the beer. “I hope she knows he is called Texas Gus for a reason.”
“Gus is called Texas Gus?” Blythe wrinkles her nose. Esme reddens next to me, downing her drink in one go.
“Correct.” Knight passes Colin the joint he just meticulously rolled using my mascara wand. “He once gave a certain girl pink eye by shooting his hot sauce in a strategic direction.”
Blythe snorts. “So embarrassing. Who was it?”
Esme pretends to text on her phone, but her fingers are not moving. Knight smirks, averting his gaze to her.
“Guess it was someone who wasn’t worth fucking.”
“Excuse me,” I singsong (like my mom, I realize after I do), slipping from the couch to go look for Via and Gus. “Killing in the Name” by Rage Against the Machine is blasting through the speakers as I make my way across the packed living room, crammed with teenagers drinking, dancing, and making out against the walls and furniture. I hear laughter from upstairs as people jump from Bailey’s window right onto the trampoline outside and make my way to the second floor, holding the bannister as my vision sways. I’m drunker than I thought I was, zigzagging my way upstairs. I start throwing doors open, my pulse picking up as I do. Penn’s is locked, but I knew it would be. I saw him packing everything that might’ve hinted at his presence into trash bags and tossing it straight into Vaughn’s pool house earlier today. He’s not taking any chances. I haven’t been bringing any friends to my house ever since he moved here, and I’m guessing he knows it’s a sacrifice. What I don’t tell him is that I do it gladly. What I never voice is how freaking proud I am of him going through all of this without complaining.
When I reach my room and open it, I find Via writhing in my bed with Gus on top of her. Their mouths are fused, and he is running his fingers up and down her bare leg. She is wearing a dress I don’t recognize. Mel must’ve taken her shopping between the time she broke my heart and the time she crushed it with her fist, just to make sure that it’s extra dead.
“Texas Gus,” I purr, and Gus’s eyes shoot up from Via, but he is still on top of her. “Take a hike. I need to have a word with Mississippi Sylvia.”
“Nah, Followhill. I think I’m comfortable right”—he thrusts his jeans-clad crotch onto Via’s groin, and she is laughing evilly—“fucking”—he leans down to bite her nose—“here.”
I elevate my phone to my face and start typing with a cheerful bravado I don’t feel.
“I guess I’ll report it back to your QB1. You know my daddy always puts him in charge, making sure everyone’s on their best behavior when I throw parties.”
“Bitch.” Gus nips at Via’s lips one more time before he jumps to his feet, grabbing his varsity jacket from my lilac bed bench and storming past me, his shoulder brushing mine.
I continue standing at the door. I’m not even going to touch the subject of them making out on my bed with a ten-foot pole. It makes me want to throw up in my mouth, and I’m mad about it, but not as mad as I am about her sleeping with the enemy—quite freaking literally.
Via huffs and gets up, about to leave, but this time, I’m the one to close the door behind me and push her back onto my bed. “Sit.”
“Give me one good reason to.” She makes a move to stand again.
“It’s about your brother, and if you care about him at all—which you haven’t shown any signs of doing in the past four years—you will listen.”
I settle next to her on my bed. We’re both staring at our feet. I feel tipsy and frustrated with the past few days. Just when I thought I was making real progress with Penn