The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4 (Cursed #3-4) - Rebecca Donovan Page 0,8

to drinking. It tastes like the hay smells. Gross. I’m tempted to abandon it but decide that I’ll just hold it and pretend. Sobriety may be better than forcing it down.

“Hey, Ashton,” a guy greets her with a tip of his cowboy hat. “I was hoping I’d see you again.” He’s cute, in a wholesome, boy-next-door kind of way.

“Sawyer!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. He hugs her back. When she lets him go, they keep an arm wrapped around each other. I eye their semi-embrace curiously. “Lana, this is Sawyer. He’s from Austin. He’s been taking summer classes at Printz-Lee, trying it out. I’ve been persuading him to turn to the dark side, so he can attend Blackwood. But he’s way too sweet for our element.”

“I still have no idea what that means,” he tells her before redirecting his gaze to me. “Nice to meet you. Are you as rebellious as this one?”

I laugh. How do I begin to answer that? “And you’re not?”

He smiles innocently.

“Or you’re full of shit,” I counter.

Ashton laughs. “Oh, he’s so full of shit. But he isn’t nearly as scandalous as we are.”

“I’m offended,” he replies with an opened-mouth chuckle that makes him appear like he’s smiling. It’s hard not to smile back at the lightheartedness of it.

“Let’s get you a drink,” Ashton announces, pulling Sawyer by the hand. “By the time we get to the front of the line, I’ll need a refill too.”

I look down at my drink, which has hardly been touched, and then at Ashton’s nearly empty beer. When did that happen?

“I’m going to stay here,” I tell them, not wanting to fight through the crowd for a beer I won’t drink.

When they disappear, I dump my cup in a corner. I stay in the corner, which is kind of my thing at parties, and watch. This party lacks the swagger of Sherling, the pretentiousness of Oaklawn, and the intensity of The Point. It’s actually kind of … messy. Guys stumbling, arms thrown over shoulders to keep upright. Girls giggling in groups, darting eyes at the dumb boys. Now I get the PG label. I know I’m their age, but I feel like I’m watching children trying to be cool and failing miserably.

“Hey, what the fuck?” a guy hollers on the other side of the barn.

I tilt my head to get a better view of the fight that’s about to break out. But only catch a glimpse of a black leather jacket. Why the hell would someone wear a leather jacket in here? It’s hotter than hell. He’d have to be a complete asshat.

Wait. I take a step closer, searching. But I lose sight of him as he disappears through the crowd.

“Lana, where’s your beer?” Ashton asks, appearing in front of me.

“It’s empty,” I tell her, which isn’t a lie.

“Here.” Sawyer offers me one of his two cups. “Have one of mine.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Ashton!” a voice screams excitedly across the crowd.

“Courtney!” Ashton yells back, pulling me by my arm toward a petite brunette waving at us in a torn jean skirt.

The girl is sitting on a haystack among a circle of other haystacks, most occupied.

Ashton hugs the girl. “Hey! What are you guys doing?”

“Playing Never Have I Ever,” the girl announces with a wicked grin. “Sit. You have to join us.”

Ashton laughs and then looks to me. “Um, everyone, this is Lana.”

The group of four girls and three guys wave and say hi in response, not bothering to introduce themselves—which is good because I’d never remember their names.

Ashton settles down on one of the vacant bales of hay. She pats the spot next to her on the blanket. “C’mon.”

I eye Sawyer. “You playing?”

He tips his hat as if bowing out. “Uh, I like my scandalous-free reputation, thank you very much.”

“You could lie,” I offer.

He laughs. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, I’d rather keep my secrets secret. But you go ahead,” he encourages me with a teasing grin. Sawyer remains leaning against a post, far enough away not to participate, but close enough to listen.

I dump half the beer into the dirt behind the hay bale, hoping no one notices.

“Have you ever played?” Ashton asks when I reluctantly sit next to her on the blanket, crossing my legs beneath me.

I shake my head.

“But you know how?”

“I think so,” I tell her. “Someone says, ‘Never have I ever,’ and finishes with something stupid to make everyone drink.”

“Basically.” Ashton beams. “I’m going to need another