when I did stuff he didn’t deem worthy of him, like the time I pierced my lip. How he always expected me to be there for him, and when I wasn’t, he made me feel bad about it. Yet, he didn’t always have to be there for me.
He had clawed his way into my head so much that I hardly did anything on my own. The only time I really did what I wanted was when I went to that party with Star. And if I hadn’t done that—briefly broke free of the chain that I let Foster keep around me—I’m not sure I would’ve ever figured out who saved me that night.
I wouldn’t be here with Kingsley.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have let you read those,” Kingsley abruptly says.
I startle, aware that I’ve grown quiet, yet I’m not sure for how long. Long enough that I can no longer see any signs of a party. Only darkness and trees and shadows twirling amongst them.
They’re out there. Those shadowy things.
Swallowing hard, I hand Kingsley back his phone. “No, I’m glad you did. I was just thinking about some … stuff …” I waver, unsure how much I want to tell him, but decide to hell with it. I need to be honest with him if I’m ever going to be able to get him to be honest with me. “I was just thinking about how abusive Foster is. Not physically, but mentally. How all those years I was friends with him, he made me feel so bad about everything I did to the point that I couldn’t even make decisions on my own. And during the few times I did, he always made me feel bad about it. And those messages he sent to you, they’re kind of the same thing, only he’s so much more crueler to you. With me, he was always sweet about it, and I never was able to see it until now because I was an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot,” he starts to defend me, but I talk over him.
“No, I was. But not anymore.” I face him so he can hopefully see how much I mean what I’m about to say. “No more assuming that I’m going to defend Foster. That I’m friends with him. That I like him. Because I don’t. Not anymore. And I want to be friends with you. I should’ve been this entire time, but I messed up. I was stupid. And that’s on me. But, from now on, no more stupidity. You and I are friends. Foster and I are not.” I press my lips together, something dawning on me. “Unless you don’t want to be friends with me.”
He stares at me and, for a moment, I think he’s going to say no. Then he says quietly, “No, I do. I really fucking do.”
“Good.” I let a nervous exhale slip from my lips then smile at him.
He smiles a little, too. Just a little, but good God, is that smile beautiful. So beautiful that it’s crazy to think about what he would look like if he smiled completely.
Probably unimaginably beautiful.
“As your friend, I need to tell you some stuff, though. And I’m not sure how you’re going to take it, but with Foster being so persistent about being around you, I think you need to hear it,” he says as he steers off the dirt road and onto the main road. “Remember the last time we talked on the phone and I told you that Foster might be dealing that drug, night kiss?”
I nod.
“Well, tonight, I learned a couple of things. Actually, about him and Grey and how they might be dealing together.”
“Yeah, I overheard them talking,” I tell him. “Which surprised the hell out of me since Foster’s always hated him. Or, well, pretended to. Honestly, it kind of sounded like they hate each other but are hanging out for some reason.”
“Yeah, I got that.” His brows knit. “It doesn’t really make sense. I mean, at school, they always acted like rivals, and yet they were talking at the party tonight when I saw them.”
“You’re right; it doesn’t make sense. Foster hates Grey, so why hang out with him in the open? And I overheard him say to Grey that he wanted to make sure I didn’t spot them together, yet isn’t he worried someone at the party would tell me that they were hanging out? And why is everyone okay with them hanging out? Every one of Foster’s friends