Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,66

“What the fuck,” he growls, hurrying to tuck himself back into his pants.

I straighten my dress, shrugging. “I’m done with you.” As I walk away, trying not to feel the phantom pang of him inside of me, I toss over my shoulder, “For now.”

I get to the stuffy, humid pool the next morning feeling like a freight train ran me over. I got a drink, once I’d left Heston up there trying to collect the last of his brain cells, but it sort of went to my head. Although I only had the one drink, it must have been strong enough for me to feel it the next day. The only other explanation for the way I’m feeling right now is a lot harder to swallow.

I’m not ready to deal with the shame and regret of saying yes to him.

“Ms. Haynes!” My name echoes off the vaulted ceiling, making me flinch. Coach James strides toward me, his expression grim. “Are you the one that set up the lane ropes for the meet yesterday?”

Lane ropes? Oh. “That’s what they’re called? Um, I mean, yes.” I’d spent an hour dragging the ropes from one end of the pool to the other. It’d been time-consuming and physically exhausting, and I never want to do it again.

He doesn’t look happy. He looks distinctly unhappy. Actually, now that I really look at him, he looks furious. “You didn’t secure the hooks. Halfway through the first event, they unlatched, disrupting the entire race. Not only was it embarrassing, it delayed the meet and cost us an important win!”

“I-I-“ I’m at a total loss for words. All of that because of some ropes? “God, I’m so sorry, Coach. I tried really hard to get them all—”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” he snaps, face stony. “It’s completely unacceptable. Those kids trained hard for that meet and you took away their win! What am I supposed to—”

“It was my fault.”

Coach James’ angry gaze flicks over my shoulder. Turning, I see Heston standing behind me. He’s clad in a black hoodie with a tight gray T-shirt underneath. Coach James rests his hands on his hips and says, “Care to explain, Wilcox?”

He shoves his fists into the pockets of his loose, olive-green shorts. “It’s my fault Ms. Haynes didn’t attach the ropes correctly. I didn’t show her how to do it before I left.”

I blink, trying to figure out if I’m still drunk. Maybe I’m dreaming.

Except Coach James’ mouth forms a tight thin line, and he says, “Heston, you know better than that. Secure ropes are an important part of any meet.”

“I do, and I apologize.” Heston shrugs, a lock of blond hair falling into his tired blue eyes. “I was in a hurry and didn’t make sure the job was done right. That was my responsibility.”

Coach James has a few more choice things to say, and to my shock, Heston takes it. Even when the Coach demands Heston personally tidy up the entire pool deck when we’re finished, Heston just bluntly agrees. I barely hear any of it, though. I’m still trying to process the two words I’m pretty sure I heard Heston just say.

“Wait,” I call out to him once the Coach is gone, still feeling dumbstruck. “Am I insane, or did you just defend me and apologize to Coach James?”

“Yeah. So?” He runs his hand through his hair, from forehead to crown, sweeping it away from his face. It’s such a Sebastian-like gesture that it almost completely disarms me. It’s the first time I’ve ever really looked at him and seen the resemblance between the brothers. Heston usually keeps his hair short. This unkempt messiness, I’m realizing, is completely new.

Baffled, I say, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you, like…apologize before.”

He looks unbothered as he shrugs. “The thing with the ropes is tricky and I should have told you. I was just in a hurry to dip. That was my fuck-up. I’ll own it.”

“First time for everything,” I mutter, not missing the way his eyes narrow as they slide to me. “So was that why you were in such a hurry to leave? Because you own Underworld?”

He starts toward the storage room, jaw tense. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. I had to take care of some shit. This whole thing is basically like having two jobs.” He looks the part, too, tired around the eyes and just a touch too disheveled to be manufactured. He takes a large key ring from his