I cross my arms over my chest. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Last night with Grayson, and today you’re with Brady. I mean, hey—I’m no one to judge you for sleeping around.”
“Wait.” I hold up a hand. “You saw me with Grayson last night?”
He nods. “Yeah, he pulled up in front of your house. I thought he was dropping you off but you never got out of the car before he drove away.” Why would he… “I’m just curious as to why he hired me to follow your little boyfriend when he could’ve just had you do it. Pretty fucked up of you to let your boyfriend get his ass kicked, though.”
“Grayson had you follow Brady?”
“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” He grins. “Yeah. Pretty boy gave me five grand to call him when Brady was alone.”
And just like that, it all becomes clear. That’s how Grayson knew to find Brady outside of the gay bar in the next town over.
I place my hands against his chest and shove him back. “Are you out of your fucking mind? You could have gotten Brady killed!”
He laughs, as if there is something comical about all this. “Chill, Princess. A few cuts and bruises will do the man some good. Besides, I’m sure his boyfriend took great care of him afterward.”
My stomach drops. “You knew.”
“Of course I knew. It wasn’t hard to figure out why he never came inside. You can’t play like you’re dating someone who acts like your brother.”
Taking a deep breath, I try to keep my cool. “What do you want?”
He licks his lips and looks me up and down, but before I lose my shit on him, he shakes his head. “I know you saw that deal a couple weeks ago. I just want to make sure you know to keep your pretty little mouth shut about it.”
“Haven’t said anything yet, have I?”
“Nope, and let’s keep it that way.”
“Whatever.” I open the door and slip inside, locking it behind me.
The sight of an empty bottle of Jack on the counter tells me my father’s been home since I left yesterday evening, but God only knows where he is now. Probably taking too many of the pills the doctor prescribed for his foot.
I make my way into my room and throw myself down onto my bed. Everything from the last couple days is really starting to mess with my head. First, Grayson has the one piece of information that could destroy my reputation, and instead of using it, he’s taunting me with it. However, that isn’t nearly as surprising as finding out that he brought me here last night before bringing me to his house. Why didn’t he just drop me off? Judging by the look on his face this morning, seeing me was the last thing he wanted. It’s all just really confusing and starting to give me a headache.
FOR THE FIRST TIME in years, I skip dance on Sunday morning. Between rehearsing for the winter recital, cheer practice, and dealing with all the mind games of Grayson Hayworth, I’m exhausted. All I want is to stay cooped up in my room, eat Ben and Jerry’s, and binge watch Netflix.
Halfway through an episode of Friends, my dad comes stumbling into the room. The smell of booze radiates from his body, and it looks like he hasn’t showered in weeks. I hit pause before sitting up.
“Everything okay?” I ask hesitantly.
He looks around the room, slurring his words and mumbling something about his pills. Then, he stops and turns to me. “I need you to go to the liquor store.”
I could argue, but it would be useless. So instead, I climb off my bed and take the money from his hand. Just as I go to slip past him, he grips my arm and slams me against the doorway—knocking the wind out of me.
“And don’t even think about trying to trick me with water again, you little shit.”
Afraid to move, I stay completely still until he releases me and walks back into his room. Once he’s gone, I all but run from the house. I pull my phone from my pocket and call Brady. Thankfully, he agrees to meet me at the liquor store down the street. I zip up my sweatshirt and start to walk down the sidewalk.
“Well, damn.” A kid I don’t recognize says to me as he saunters up close. “Who might you be, pretty thing?”
I try to go around him, but he moves directly in my way. Seriously, I am not in the mood for this shit.
He looks like one of Knox’s friends, only younger. His black hair is spiked up, as if no one told him that style went out with the 90s. His shirt sleeves have been torn off, and his jeans are cut into shorts. It’s like he came straight out of a bad independent film.
“Where you going, beautiful? I just want to talk.”
I take a step back to gain some personal space. “No, thanks. I’ll pass.”
“Aw, come on. At least let me get your name.”
“Is there a problem here, Trey?” Knox appears out of nowhere.
Judging by the way he freezes at hearing Knox’s voice, I’m guessing they’re not friends. Good. That’s something I can use to my advantage.
“No, not at all,” he says, demeanor changing. “I was just trying to get my new neighbor’s name.”
New neighbor?! Fuck my life.
Knox comes up next to me and places his hand on my shoulder, leading me around Trey so he doesn’t stop me again. “Well, it doesn’t look to me like she wants to give it to you.”
As pissed off as I am at him, and think he should reevaluate his life choices, I’ve never been so glad for his stalking tendencies. I swear, the guy manages to see and hear everything around here. Nothing happens that he doesn’t know about. It’s why, despite wanting to punch him in the face sometimes, I try to stay on his good side.
Giving Knox a thankful smile, I continue my trek to the liquor store, because what better way to spend my Sunday than getting more vodka for the alcoholic?
MONDAY MORNING, I’M ALREADY over the day when I get to school. While walking to first period, I realize Grayson isn’t with us. Strange, because I saw his car in the parking lot when Brady dropped me off. When we walk into the classroom, however, I see why. He’s already here, but he’s no longer occupying the seat he’s taken just to irritate me. Instead, he’s sitting next to Delaney. They’re laughing about something when her eyes meet mine.
To see them together makes the usual feelings of nostalgia so much worse. If things hadn’t changed—if Grayson hadn’t moved away and my life hadn’t gone from blessed to broken—we’d probably all be sitting together. Gray and I would be a power couple, and Delaney would still be my best friend.
“Why is he sitting with her?” Kinsley asks, as if we’re close.
I roll my eyes. “I’m sorry, last time I checked, I wasn’t his minder.”
We take our seats, and I do my best to ignore them, but it’s easier said than done.
THE OBJECTIVE IS SIMPLE—create a graphic using at least five different Photoshop effects. It couldn’t be any more straightforward, and it would be easy, if I was allowed to focus on it. For the third time, Grayson drops his stylus on the ground. I glance at it but continue to do my work.
“Savannah,” he whispers, but I don’t answer. “Savannah. Psst. Savi.”
“What?” I snap.