This time, when I go to leave, Chasm grabs my wrist.
“Stay. I’ll chill out a little when I smoke this,” he tells me, and I settle back in, watching him a bit warily from the corner of my eye. He lights the joint, takes a drag and then offers it out to me, but I decline. “Oh, that’s right? You’re a good girl; you don’t smoke.”
“But I can bake pot brownies like a boss,” I reply smugly, and Chasm tosses over a skeptical look. “It’s true. The secret is in the butter.” Weirdly enough, it was Saffron who taught me to make the brownies for my grandmother’s arthritis. I redirect my attention back to the beer in my hands. It seems easier somehow than trying to maintain eye contact with Chasm. “I might not know a lot about my biological family, but I could tell you all about the Banks. I could tell you how my great-grandmother used to do my hair every morning before school, that she collected hotel soaps and shampoos and kept them in a big basket in her bathroom.” I look back up to see Chasm’s pretty face softening in my direction. Oh my god, be still my fucking heart! He’s so goddamn stunning, it isn’t fair. The universe must hate me. “Or I could tell you that my grandparents met in front of a waterfall during a hike, that they got married a week later, and that they’ve been married for forty years. History isn’t just about DNA; it’s about people, experiences, and memories.”
“You’re a wise one, Little Sister,” he admits, almost grudgingly. I watch his full mouth curve around the joint as he takes a drag and then lets the smoke billow from his nostrils.
“Gamsahabnida,” I reply with a little bow, hoping that it really means thank you in Korean the way I’m hoping it does. Chasm lets out a sharp laugh and then reaches over to ruffle up my hair, like a kid sister. The move is affectionate, but also sort of annoying, and it takes me a moment to pinpoint why. I don’t want him to think of me like a little sister, even if he calls me one. I’ve seen Chasm’s responses to Kimber panting after him; he isn’t receptive in the least. Probably the only girl in the world he isn’t receptive to.
“Not bad. Is that what you’ve been doing, holed up in your room all week? Watching too many K-dramas. No wonder you’re so far behind in all your classes.” I elbow him, but all he does is laugh, smoking his joint and watching the sun set behind the lake. “Working Bitch” by Ashnikko starts to play, and I let out a small sound of excitement, hopping off the car and handing Chasm my drink. “What the hell are you doing?” he asks as I wait for the right part of the song.
Pretty sure I spent about three weeks in my room learning this dance (before I moved to Washington, obviously).
Chasm’s brows go up as I start to go through the moves, but he doesn’t seem unimpressed.
“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” he asks as I keep dancing. There are parts of the song that don’t have any associated moves, but I fill the blank spaces with my own, ones that I made up when I learned the dance originally. When I’m done, I pluck the beer from his hand and chug it, panting and sweating just a bit.
When I drop the bottle to my side and look at Chasm, I swear that there’s something different in the way he’s looking at me.
“What?” I ask, but he just shrugs again, finishing the joint and dropping the butt to the ground. He crushes it with his foot and then, surprisingly, picks it up and slides it back in the tube. Both items are chucked in the trash just before he grabs my hand and drags me toward the edge of the lake.
“Have y’all met Dakota?” he asks, lifting up my hand as I wave with the beer bottle in the other. “She learns dances for TikTok.”
I snort and yank my arm from his grip.
“No, I learn dances on the off-chance Ashnikko will see my video and want to go out with me.”
“Ooooh,” Chasm whistles back, but he’s pretty much the only person listening. Everyone here already knows who I am, so they’ve checked out. “So you’re not just playing bisexual, you really are?”
“Are you jealous?” I shoot back, although I feel like in retrospect I’m going to think that was a weird thing to say. Chasm stares at me like the same thought might’ve crossed his mind, but then he just snorts and mutters in Korean which drives me nuts. One, because I really, really, really want to know what he’s saying. Two, because a guy that speaks more than one language is hot. Down hormones, down! Bad Dakota. Bad. “No need to be. You weren’t on my radar regardless of sex.”
“Harsh,” he murmurs, but then things are sort of weird because we’re staring at each other. I try to distract myself by making my way over to Lumen. She’s stripped off her dress and is wading into the lake in a white bikini top and pink boy shorts. Gotta give her credit for that, it’s cold as fuck in March in the PNW. Freezing, actually.
“Join me!” she calls out, trying to wave me over, but there’s little to no chance that my ass is getting off the dock and into ice-cold water. I squat down beside her as she wades out and several of the boys gaze after her longingly. I’ve noticed several of them watching her with stark admiration, but then looking back at me with a hint of nervousness. They’re not sure if we’re actually going out or not. “Question,” Lumen asks after a minute, hopping up onto the dock next to me and shivering slightly. She’s one brave chick. “Are you into me?”
That surprises me, so much so that I actually sit down on the deck, slipping my hands into the pockets of my blazer. I can feel the smooth surface of my phone as it buzzes with an incoming text. I’m still considering Lumen’s question when I slide it out to see who it’s from.
Parrish.
Tess is starting to panic. Call her. There’s a slight gap and then one last word. Now.
I purse my lips as adrenaline floods me. That boy really knows how to tick me off. He knows that he’s being helpful, that I’ll have no choice but to call Tess, but that he can ‘command’ me to do it, then revel in watching me ‘obey’ him. Fucker. Idiot. Dickhead.
“Give me just a second? I have to call my … Tess.” The word mom just doesn’t cut it with me and her. Lumen raises her brows at me.
“My daddy’s a right-wing combat veteran with control issues and he doesn’t make me call home this much.”
“Trauma,” I say with a small shrug, and then I hit dial on Tess’ number. She answers right away.
“M—” Neither of us misses the wrong letter forming on the edge of her lips. She cuts it off quickly and redirects herself. “Dakota, how’s it going? Are you still at the Schaeffers’?”
A sudden fear cuts through me as I imagine her waiting outside, wanting to see or talk to me.
“Yep,” I reply carefully, unsure if I should just stop talking or try to make up an imagined activity. But then … even if I were really back at Danyella’s house, I wouldn’t tell Tess anything.
“Do you mind if I speak to her?” Tess replies, her tone putting me on edge. There’s a primness to it that makes me want to scream. She is really and truly in charge of me, but just because she controls me, that doesn’t mean I’ll want a relationship with her later.
With a sigh, I stand up and head over to where Danyella’s sitting on the grass, her shoes kicked off—I’ve noticed that she wears a different pair of shoes every day—and her ankles crossed. She glances up as I hand the phone over, fully aware that Tess can hear the music playing in the background. That doesn’t matter; we’re just as likely to be listening to music at Danyella’s place.