Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,61

It gets me out of my head for a while. Gives me something to focus on.”

She purses her lips, nodding. “I guess I could see that.”

After waffling for a moment, I reach into my bag, pulling out one of my spare pairs of knitting needles. I hand them to her. “I could teach you some stitches?” The girl’s eyes flash in delight as she takes the needles, accepting the yarn I hand her next. “This is a basic slip-knot,” I begin.

We spend the next thirty minutes huddled over the needles in our lap. Despite her comment before, I learn that the girl—Eliza, she says—is actually fantastic at it. She picks it up quick, eyes lighting up when she finishes her second row. I quietly explain to her that I’m doing scarves and then tell her some excellent websites and videos for beginners. She softly mutters back that she’s going to ask her dad to pick her up some yarn and needles over the weekend because she wants to make a scarf, too.

It isn’t until I finish a row and look up that I realize we’ve attracted a little audience. Two girls and a boy, probably middle-schoolers by the looks of them, are standing nearby, watching us curiously. I blink at them as if I’m emerging from a haze—and I suppose I am. When I do this, everything feels so far away. It doesn’t always last long, and the vibrations still exist, but it pushes them into the background, like a gentle hum.

I look at Mrs. Gilbert, who’s watching me back.

She throws me two thumbs up.

I laugh in defeat. “Okay, don’t just stand there,” I tell the kids. “Pull up a chair! We’re going to learn some wicked Stockinette stitches!”

I guess I’ll bring more needles and yarn next week.

When I get home, I pass out—hard.

The first week back at school is always difficult, but between my self-imposed celibacy, then breaking it with the worst person possible, this one has been particularly brutal. It’s a deep, dreamless sleep—the kind of sleep I’ll be thinking longingly about come Monday morning. It’s made all the better by the call I’d gotten earlier informing me that my test results all came back negative.

The only thing that rouses me are the vibrations. I’m so used to the need that my hand is already reaching for my pants before I realize I’m not the one doing the vibrating.

It’s the phone I’d wedged beneath my pillow.

Pulling it out, I squint at the screen and realize that it’s already seven. Holy shit.

“Hey,” I answer, voice a little groggy. “I’m up, I’m awake.”

“Georgia! I’ve been texting you all afternoon!” Vandy doesn’t get pissed easily, but it’s pretty obvious she’s annoyed. “What time are we meeting?”

“Meeting?” I sit up and rub my face. Christ, this nap really got away from me. Who knew that teaching four underclassmen to knit would be so taxing?

“Did you forget?”

“Of course I didn’t forget,” I lie. When she doesn’t respond, I let out a sigh. “Fine. I totally forgot. What are we doing tonight?”

“We’re going to that new club, remember? Underworld?” I hear another voice in the background. “Caroline is already at my house.”

“Shit,” I mutter. “That’s tonight?”

After doing all the work at the pool the night before, then volunteering with the peer group, I’m beat. None of this is to mention the dread I feel about possibly running into Heston again. It’s bad enough when we’re here at school, in a supervised environment.

“Yes, it’s tonight,” she says, sounding exasperated. “You promised we’d have a girl’s night.”

This is Vandy’s first year as anything even remotely approaching independent. Ever since her accident, her family has sheltered and coddled her. Even if she was hiding a pain pill addiction behind their backs the whole time, it wasn’t until she joined the Devils that she finally got a taste of what it’s like to be a normal teenage girl. Now she’s hungry for the experiences.

“Fine, fine,” I relent, unable to say no to her. “Give me an hour to get pretty.”

Squealing, she says, “Meet us at the old Kmart parking lot, okay? And would you bring me those earrings you wore on Tuesday? All of mine are so…ugh. Cute.”

An hour later, I’m pulling into the lot, spotting Vandy’s compact car and, curiously, her boyfriend’s Jeep. “Oh, hell no,” I say when I get out of the car. “Vandy, I know you’re new to this, but you cannot bring your boyfriend to girls’ night out.”

Caroline sidles up to me, arms