Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,142

sketchy. This could be something humiliating.

Reaching out, I rest my finger on the button and press down.

The screen changes to an image of Georgia in a badly lit room, nails picking at the seam of her jeans. “I told everyone that I went on a six-month foreign exchange program to France during freshman year.”

Her eyes are cast down, and she’s younger here, different in the way she’s curled in on herself. This is nothing like the woman currently sleeping in my bed, usually so fierce and assured. This Georgia looks nervous and reserved, voice quiet as she says, “Really, I was in a psychiatric facility for what they called a major depressive event. But I was just… well, there was this video going around…”

I click the button, stilling the image of her downcast eyes. “Shit,” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face. That fucking video. Part of me is annoyed, because goddamn. I didn’t tell anyone it was her. What’s the big deal?

Another part of me remembers her saying that I’d showed the world a part of her she didn’t understand yet.

Sighing, I start the video back up.

It’s Carlton who speaks next. “Oh shit! That was you!”

Georgia’s eyes go wide and hunted, and she turns them on Emory. “This stays here, right?”

Emory looks confused. “Uh, yeah. That’s the point.”

She looks away, and everything about her looks limp. “I broke up with this guy, and he…well, you all know by now.” Her head comes up long enough for me to see a corner of her mouth pull up deprecatingly. “He posted that video of us.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. I don’t need to see the tell to know that she’s lying. We were never together, and she certainly never broke up with me. The way she avoids their gazes tells me exactly what’s going down, though. She doesn’t want them to judge her. Better to be a victim of some pissed-off, jilted asshole than the reality.

“I couldn’t believe that he’d do that, and it’s just always out there. It doesn’t matter that you can’t see my face, it’s still—” She works her jaw, eyes growing wetter. “It’s such a violation. Most mornings, I couldn’t even get out of bed, but when I did, I just wanted it all to end.” She adds in a rough whisper, “So I tried to hang myself.”

I stare at the screen, missing whatever Elena says in response. Somewhere deep in my gut is a razor-sharp, excruciating twist, because I wasn’t wrong before. Georgia is a shitty liar.

And she’s telling the truth.

Through the muddled storm in my head, I hear her voice saying, “I still see it sometimes, you know. All you guys share it around like it’s this…fun thing. But every time I see it, I just hate myself.” My hand comes down heavy on the lid of the laptop, closing it with a quick click. I dig the memory card out of the slot and lean back into the couch, eyes sliding closed, jaw clenched.

“Fuck.” I fist the card in my palm, feeling it dig into the flesh.

I’ve felt this before. The gnawing pain in my stomach. The swirl around my temples. The churning, angry, empty thing in my chest. I fucking hate it. It’s the worst of the worst. Back then, when it was all about sitting in a sterile hospital lobby and waiting to hear whether or not my mom was breathing, I bitterly thought of it as disappointment. I thought my mom should be stronger and smarter, more resilient.

But when I put the memory card away and pad back into my bedroom, laying eyes on Georgia in my bed, all soft and fierce and full of life, I know that I was wrong. Because this thing I’m feeling right now isn’t disappointment. Georgia’s strong, smart, resilient. Someone just came along and cut their way inside, poisoned her enough to make her doubt it.

It doesn’t feel simple enough to put a single word to, but if I had to try, I’d call it guilt.

When I climb back into the bed, she wakes just enough to shift, curling into my side like she’s seeking my warmth.

I’ve never felt colder.

My first thought when my alarm goes off is that Georgia’s gone, and that’s a bummer. I could have used some morning sex for this morning wood that’s digging into my mattress.

My second thought is the memory of that video last night.

It sits heavy and painful in my gut, forcing me to the medicine