Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,126

was just Heston doing the bare minimum of his job.” He gives me a suspicious look. “I think you’re blinded by all those good Wilcox genes.”

“Oh, come on.”

“No, you come on,” he insists, huffing. “He’s handsome and ripped, and yeah, maybe he can occasionally cosplay as someone who doesn’t deserve to take a barefooted hike on miles of Legos, but that doesn’t make him a good person, Georgia. Being a good person takes effort and empathy.”

“Okay, so maybe he isn’t putting in the work to become a good person,” I say, unable to argue with that much. “But I am. And I think knowing when to let shit go might be a big part of that. So…” What happens in the space after that sentence is a big realization. “I think…I think that’s what I’m going to do.”

Micha’s eyebrows climb his forehead. “You’re, like…what? Forgiving him?”

“Yeah,” I answer, confidence building. “That’s what I want to do.”

Micha shifts, giving me a dubious look. “You know I’ve heard the rumors, right? You’re obviously the girl on that video he passed around. He did those things to you.” Part of me dies inside at the possibility of Micha having seen that. He must see this on my face, because he’s quick to add, “Ew, I didn’t watch it! But from what people say, it was pretty bad.”

I point out, “And he’s paying the price for that. I don’t need to heap anything else on him. It doesn’t make me feel any better about it. I thought it would, but I was wrong.” Not liking the way Micha’s watching me, I roll my eyes. “I’m not some stupid, gullible girl. Trust me when I say I’m doing it more for myself than him. I don’t want to carry the poison of hating someone around forever. If I can forgive him for…doing that, then maybe you should try it, too. Isn’t that what the Adams do? Forgive and rebuild? You’re better than all this petty bullshit, Micha Adams.” It’s not my most subtle guilt trip, but it gets the job done.

When I turn on my heel to leave, he’s frowning in thought.

I don’t see Heston in the morning, and I don’t see him at lunch, either. My thumbnail gets gnawed down as I search the faculty table, and then the benches outside the dining hall. It’s ridiculous to feel this anxiety over it all. I meant what I told Micha before. I don’t want to see Heston suffer unnecessarily. That doesn’t make me a doormat, it just makes me someone with a baseline amount of compassion for other humans.

But the worry is stupid.

I know it’s stupid, and yet I can’t get rid of it. Heston is a grown man. If he makes a bad decision under duress, then it’s not my problem.

So why does it feel like my problem?

There’s an assembly on something exhausting—body image issues or unrealistic beauty standards or whatever—happening all of fifth period. I only step into the gym long enough to verify that Heston isn’t there.

Not in the mood to feel crammed in with all those people, I decide to duck into the Devil’s lair for some silence. Clear my head. Soak in the peace.

When I open the door, Caroline’s head jerks up. I freeze, hand clenching on the knob, and she quickly looks away, wiping her tear-stained face.

“I didn’t know anyone was down here,” I say, turning to leave.

But she shoots up, crying, “Georgia, wait.”

I reluctantly turn back to her, mouth pursed. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” She sniffles, loud and wet, and if she didn’t look so miserable, I probably would have left already. “I didn’t mean all those things I said.”

I finally close the door. “Yes, you did. Somewhere deep down, that’s exactly what you think about me.”

“That’s not true! I just—” She exhales shakily, taking off her glasses to wipe her eyes. “You’re my best friend.”

Lifting a shoulder, I reply, “It doesn’t feel like it.”

“I think I just got so jealous, because you’re…” She waves at me.

“A huge slut?”

“No!” she cries, shoulders slumping. “You’re so much prettier than me, Georgia. More experienced. More popular. More everything.”

Crossing my arms, I bite out, “I’m not prettier than you, Caroline.”

“Yes, you are! And that’s fine. It should be fine.” She pauses, eyes brimming over once again. “But I really wanted him to like me.”

“Ozzy?” I guess, feeling annoyed. “How do you even know he doesn’t?”

She sniffles again, looking away. “He doesn’t look at me the way he looks at you. I saw him