two brothers meet, a flicker of something rolls between them. There’s a high five, but while Heston’s is firm and sharp, Sebastian’s is loose and unenthusiastic. Whatever that look means, it’s lost when Heston grabs a stack of cash from the bookie and holds it over his head as though he’s the one coming out of this victorious. The stack is easily three inches thick and would probably be enough to pay for the Mustang repairs and a month of Preston Prep combined.
I turn and walk away. There’s something uncomfortable and heavy settling into the pit of my stomach and it’s frustratingly not simple. I’m remembering how I don’t actually belong here. I’m thinking of the way Sebastian’s eyes lit up when everyone was fawning over him before, but just passed right over me, like I was invisible. I’m feeling pissed the fuck off—mostly at myself—for actually feeling this way about it.
Because fucking ouch.
That really did sting.
I keep walking, thinking that maybe I’ll find Georgia or Emory for a ride back to campus. I don’t know Ben or Carlton that well, but maybe well enough that I’d chance riding back with them. I’m still mulling this over when I hear the familiar rumble of the Shelby approaching from behind. It rolls up next to me, Sebastian leaning across the passenger seat toward the open window, one hand on the steering wheel.
“You looking for a ride?” he calls, eyes tired.
I look forward, not stopping. “I don’t know. Am I?” Inside, I cringe at the way it comes out, all bristled and aggressive. Too transparent. I’m letting this guy have way too much power over me.
I can see his face harden in my periphery. “You’re pissed.”
“Oh?” I ask. “What gave it away?”
He mutters a low, “Goddamn it,” under his breath. “Come on, don’t make me do this.”
I stop, biting out a sharp, “Do what?”
The car pauses next to me. “The thing where I chase you around and beg and scrape. I’m not actually all that good at it, in case you haven’t noticed.”
I level him with a look. “Trust me. I have.”
He taps the steering wheel. “So?”
I take a deep breath, open the door, and get in. That stack of cash he won is sitting on the center console like a spent bag of fries from McDonald's. Stiffly, I ask, “So? How much did you win?”
His eyes dart down to the stack of cash. “That? I don’t know. Just chuck it out the fucking window.”
My face screws up. “What?”
He waves dismissively. “I don’t want it, it’s dirty money. Throw it out.”
A bitter laugh bubbles in my chest, spilling into the enclosed car. “God, you’re such an entitled prick. Why did you even bother racing if you didn’t want the money? Maybe one of the other guys could have actually used it instead of treating it like used tissues.”
He tilts his head and narrows his eyes at me. “You know, an hour ago, you were kissing me senseless and wishing me luck. Now you’re pissed because I won? I told you I didn’t really have a choice.”
He thinks I’m pissed about the race. I don’t necessarily correct him. “I don’t know,” I tell him, and I’m not lying. “Watching you out there, I admit it. You have a gift. And your brother? From what Georgia and the others say, he’s a piece of work—”
He snorts. “That’s the polite way of saying it. He’s a fucking sociopath.”
“But this whole world—the money and the gambling and the illegal shit—I didn’t sign up for that. I don’t belong there. I’m going to Preston to get away from a shady life, not to make a new one. If I wanted to spend Friday nights with a bunch of delinquents, I could have stayed in the Briar Cliffs.”
He pulls the car to a lurching stop at a light, fingers tightening around the wheel. “I don’t know what you were expecting. The people here aren’t magically functional just because we have more money. We’re a fucking mess, Sugar. We’re barely eighteen and you wouldn’t believe the kinds of skeletons we already have in our closets. All this shit—the money, the nice cars, the fancy-ass school—it doesn’t erase our problems. It just makes the problems more expensive and easier to hide.” He looks at me, something hard and intense in his eyes. “People can’t touch you. I don’t know what that was like for you back in the Cliffs, but here? Fuck, Sugar, we’ve barely asked any questions. Why do