Clique Bait - Ann Valett Page 0,30

it too was appalled by this conversation.

“We were drunk when it first happened,” he said. “It was my birthday party last year. I was stupid, very stupid, trying to impress everyone with how much I could drink. And she was fighting with Francis.” He let out a breath. “I don’t think either of us knew what we were doing, but we talked for hours, just the two of us. We never had a sexual relationship like she said, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

I bit my lip, holding back any commentary. I wasn’t oblivious to his body language or his tone. He didn’t expect a response. He just wanted to talk.

“Francis and I have been friends since we were old enough to hold a lacrosse stick. His dad literally based how much he’d sponsor the club on what position Francis played and how much game time he got. Even though Francis loved it, he always seemed like a lonely kid. It’s why we became such good friends. I think I was one of the only ones to see that side of him. But he always got what he wanted, never really caring who he stepped on to get it. It’s just who he is, especially now.”

He sighed, pushing his hair away from his face, the sunlight catching its highlights.

“The point is, Francis always wants more. The people who care about him are never enough. He won’t be satisfied—she’s just an accessory to him.”

“She seems pretty happy to be there,” I noted, careful to assess his reaction. He gave a half smile.

“Oh, she is. I think she really fell hard for him, at first at least. And she loves impressing people. She always puts on this act of how wonderful her life is, but that night I’d never seen her so vulnerable.”

Of course vulnerability would be something William found attractive. He seemed like just the type who wanted someone to save.

“I know you’re judging me right now. You obviously hate her. I just want you to understand that she’s human too. Her whole bad-bitch persona only runs so deep. It’s no excuse. It’s just that there’s something behind all of that that isn’t completely screwed up.”

“Are you seriously giving me a reason to like her?” I asked, failing to keep up my supportive demeanor. “After everything she did to Monica?”

William slowly shook his head, his eyes meeting mine before darting away, looking back to the garden in front of us. “No. I’m not. I guess I’m just trying to help you understand. We were just two people drunk out of our minds at a party. Our understanding of Francis was really the only connection we had. I’ve been his best friend for so long and she’s his girlfriend. We know him almost better than anyone, for better or worse. We almost got excitement out of deceiving him. It was toxic.”

“And what stopped it?”

“Francis, of course,” he said. “He thought she was cheating, and he must have done something to stop it. She didn’t want to blur boundaries anymore. It was a wake-up call. For both of us. It was so wrong, and ever since then Francis has had it out for me. But he knows I’m the only friend he has who really understands him. It’s . . . complicated.”

“Sounds like you still have some loose ends to me.”

He shrugged. It occurred to me that out of all the targets I could have chosen to connect me to Level One, I’d picked the worst. If Lola had feelings for William, then I was 100 percent going down for this.

“I mean, it wasn’t like I struggled to move on. Especially after . . .”

“After Monica?”

“After Monica.” He cleared his throat. “When Monica started hanging with us, things got messy. She was something else back then, that was for sure.”

I was unable to look him in the eye.

“Monica seemed to have this sense of people’s weaknesses, and when she—”

“Stop,” I said, bringing my fingers to my temples. I closed my eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Why was he trusting me with this to begin with? It made no sense for him to confide in me about Lola, especially when he knew the truth about my plan.

“William, I—”

“Will,” he corrected, a small smile playing on his mouth, like he’d gone from finding it annoying to amusing. But it wasn’t the full kind, it wasn’t traveling farther than his lips. His eyes were still hardened.

“I just . . .” My voice trailed off, and I decided against questioning his