“Totally. Are you coming?”
“That depends. Are you coming out with me this weekend?”
I press my lips together, unimpressed. “Sure.”
“Then it’s a date.”
When we turn to leave, her for the parking lot and me for the gym, I spot Ms. Thomas heading our way.
“Haven’t seen you in a while, Shayne,” she says, subtle as ever as she passes by. “Stop by this week?” she phrases it as a question, but we both know it’s a warning.
I nod my answer and she gives me a thumbs-up before turning the corner. I’ve been distracted, and honestly, with Thayer taking away my access to the barn, I haven’t felt like writing.
“I gotta go,” I tell Valen. Coach decided we should have some team bonding beforehand, so instead of going home, I get to go out for ice cream with the team. Yay. And to make matters worse, as varsity players, we have to sit through the freshmen and JV games to show our support before we play.
“Good luck, buttercup.” Valen slaps my butt. “Break a leg or whatever.”
We won the game.
I’m hot, sweaty, and still on an adrenaline high as I walk out of the gym toward the parking lot. I didn’t realize how much I missed this feeling until tonight. I can’t even complain about the team-bonding trip. With Coach there, Taylor didn’t pull any of her shit, and hanging out with some of my old teammates felt good. Valen left right after the game, knowing it would be a while before I could break away from the team, and with Mom on another overnight trip, I’m all alone, but even that’s not enough to get me down.
That is, until I see my car. Flat on the ground with the tires—all four by the looks of it—slashed. You have got to be shitting me. Anger burns a hole in the pit of my stomach, my fingernails leaving half-moon indents on the insides of my palms. The fact that they’re still doing this to me even after I’ve gone out of my way not only to help Holden, but also to keep him out of trouble is unbelievable.
“Oh my God,” a soft, high-pitched voice says behind me. I turn around to see Ashley, one of the girls from my team. “Who would do that?”
“Oh, I know exactly who.” I clench my fists, wanting to scream. But instead, I take a deep breath to compose myself before speaking again. “Hey, do you think you could give me a ride home?” I’m not going to roll over and play dead anymore.
“Yeah, of course,” she says, looking at me with pity in her eyes. “I’m right here.” She points to a little silver sports car.
“Thanks.” I follow her to the car, getting in on the passenger side before pulling my seatbelt over my chest. “Do you know where I live?”
She starts the car with a push of the button. “Not unless you’re still living at Whittemore.” Her voice holds a hint of an apology.
“Actually, that’s exactly where I want you to take me.”
Thayer
“Think they know it was you?” I ask my dumb fuck of a brother. Holden shakes his head.
“Nah. They went class to class asking everyone.”
“They came to mine, too,” Christian says, slouched back in his chair. “They don’t know shit.”
“What the fuck were you thinking?” I ask Holden for the tenth time since the other night. His impulsiveness isn’t anything new, but this shit is on another level. When I left a few weeks ago, he seemed like he was ready to let it go.
“I told you. I was drunk as shit. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Yeah, well. Next time you decide to go all mission impossible and bash the fuck out of a detective’s vehicle, fill us in first.”
He twirls a beer cap on the tabletop, a weird look on his face.
“What?” I ask.
“Our girl had my back. Again.”
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline, ignoring that he referred to Shayne as our girl. “How so?”
“She was sitting right next to me when those cops came in our class. They pulled her out of class to question her. She had the chance to rat my ass out, but she didn’t.”
“Yet,” Christian tacks on.
Holden shrugs. “It’s possible. I don’t know, man. I trust her.”
Once again, Shayne manages to fuck with my head, and I don’t know which version of her is the real one.
The sound of the front door flying open and hitting the wall has all three of us jumping up, ready for a fight. What I don’t expect is to see Shayne storming into the kitchen in her volleyball uniform looking both fine as fuck and deadly. When she sees that we’re all here, she falters for half a second before pulling it together.
“Which one of you assholes did it?”
Her hair is in a messy ponytail, cheeks flushed, and she’s wearing those spandex shorts that leave nothing to the imagination, knee pads still around her legs. My dick jumps in my pants at the sight of her.
“You’re going to have to be more specific than that,” I tell her, crossing my arms over my chest. The other night, she couldn’t get out of here fast enough, and now she’s practically breaking the door down like she owns the place?
“My car,” she says through clenched teeth. “You slashed my tires.”
I turn to look at Holden and Christian, eyebrows raised in question. Both of them hold their hands up, proclaiming their innocence.
“I’m done. I’ve put up with your pranks, I’ve let you push me around out of, I don’t know, guilt,” she rambles. “I’ve saved your ass, kept your secrets.” She points at Holden. “And this is how you repay me?”
He steps to her, closing the distance between them. “It wasn’t me. But you made it clear earlier that you want to think the worst of me, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“No.” She shakes her head, stubbing a finger into his chest. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to manipulate me and make me feel guilty for being honest.”
I don’t know what they’re talking about now, but it’s clear that I’ve missed something, and I don’t like the way it makes me feel. Like they’re in on something I’m not.
“It wasn’t us,” he says again, throwing up his arms. He shakes his head, frustrated, and sits back down at the table.
Shayne looks over at me in question.
“I’d like to think I’m a little more creative than that.”
“You mean like the cockroaches?” she throws back. “That was pretty clever.”
I move toward her, crowding her space. “I’m getting real sick of being accused of shit I didn’t do.” She tries to hold her ground, but the way her throat moves when she swallows hard gives away her nerves. “You seem to think I spend a lot more time thinking about you than I do. Don’t flatter yourself.” It’s a flat-out fucking lie that she hasn’t occupied every one of my thoughts since she’s been back, and even before that if I’m being honest with myself. But she doesn’t have to know that.
“Right. And it wasn’t you who threw me into your car against my will either, I’m sure. Just some other guy wearing your face.”