We Don't Talk Anymore (The Don't Duet #1) - Julie Johnson Page 0,55

here. Just tell me where my friend is.”

Odette’s face scrunches into a prissy expression. “From what we hear, calling the two of you friends is no longer accurate.”

I stiffen. “Excuse me?”

“Josie told us you two are barely speaking, these days,” Ophelia informs me with a bit too much satisfaction. “So why would we tell you where she is? I doubt she wants you showing up, ruining her night.”

Odette harrumphs her agreement. “Apparently, you’ve ruined quite enough already.”

“Since when does Jo confide anything in the two of you?” I ask skeptically. It’s hard to imagine Josephine Valentine has a single thing in common with either of them.

“Since now.” Ophelia smirks. “What are you, like, jealous she’s finally got someone besides you to hang out with?”

“More like concerned. I know how much trouble you get yourselves into.”

Last summer, Odette had her license revoked within weeks of receiving it after she totaled two cars while high on Adderall; in the winter, Ophelia got caught cheating on the SATs and had to bribe her way into Wesleyan with an astronomical donation, courtesy of her parents. They’re the kind of kids who grew up with so much money, ‘struggle’ was just a word in the dictionary.

I guess mistakes don’t really have repercussions when your father is a billionaire.

Ophelia rolls her eyes. “Oh, please, Archer. Just because you’ve spent your whole life putting Josie on a pedestal doesn’t mean we’re required to.”

They’re calling her Josie? I bet she hates that.

“She’s not some fragile relic to be viewed from six feet away. She is entitled to have some fun.” Odette runs a finger down my chest. Her glossy lips are slightly parted as she holds my stare. “Maybe you should try it sometime.” She glances coyly at her twin. “We can be really fun. Isn’t that right, O?”

I grab her wrist and fling it away from me. “Knock it off.”

“Touchy, touchy.”

“Josie’s our friend. And you’d better get use to it.” Ophelia pulls a compact vaporizer pen from her cleavage and takes a puff. “Because we protect our friends from douchey boys who don’t appreciate them.”

My patience is wearing dangerously thin. “How much I appreciate Jo is really none of your business.”

They shrug in unison. “It is if you want to know where she went.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“I do appreciate her,” I growl. “More than you’ll ever know.”

Odette leans in. “Then why have you been ignoring her existence the past few weeks?”

“And why didn’t you ask her to prom?” Ophelia jumps in. “Now she’s totally dateless on extremely short notice!”

My brows furrow in confusion. Jo doesn’t care about school dances. She once told me she’d rather gouge her own eyes out than attend one. Last month, she said the very sight of ticket stands popping up around the halls gave her — and I quote — worse nausea than a drunken cheerleader swaying to tacky slow songs on a party cruise around the Atlantic.

Needless to say, the news that she wants me to ask her — badly enough to mention it to the Wadell twins, of all people — is making my mind spin.

“But…” I shake my head to clear it. “Jo doesn’t care about prom.”

“You idiot!” Odette smacks my arm. “Of course she does! Every girl cares about her senior prom. She’s just playing it cool. Probably because the person she wants to go with hasn’t asked her yet.”

Ophelia shoots me a pointed look. “That would be you, dumbass.”

I rub the back of my neck and exhale sharply. “I didn’t realize.”

“That you’re a dumbass?”

“That she wanted to go,” I grunt.

Odette giggles. “So… does that mean you’re going to ask her?”

“Not sure how that decision concerns anyone except Jo.”

“Um, because if you aren’t asking her, we’re going to find her a different date,” Ophelia informs me, waving her phone in my face. “A hot one. We’ve already texted her picture to, like, ten potential guys from Pingree and St. John’s Prep.”

I glance up at the ceiling, wishing like hell I’d never started this conversation. I speak through clenched teeth. “I can’t ask her anything if you don’t tell me where she went.”

The twins look at each other. Finally, Ophelia rolls her eyes and mutters, “We don’t know where she went. She left with some guy.”

“She left?”

“Mhm. She said he was giving her a ride home.”

My pulse kicks into higher gear. “When?”

“Like… thirty minutes ago, maybe?”

“What guy? Snyder?”

Odette shakes her head. “No, Ryan got wasted within, like, five minutes of getting here. Bad batch of mushrooms, I guess. He’s