“Trust me.” He pauses. “I’m sorry, too.”
Woah, do I smell a backstory?
Just as I’m working up the courage to ask, he rises to his feet. “It’s getting late. Or early. Whatever. We should go.”
He’s making his way back down before I can even attempt to adjust to his mood shift. Confused, I rear myself up, smooth my wrinkled, still-wet clothes down, and mirror his actions.
It’s past six a.m. when Will’s car comes to a slow stop in front of my house. I’m 99 percent certain my high is over, but then again, when we needed the GPS on the way back, I forgot my own address.
“Hey, you never answered me earlier,” I remind him.
Will pushes the gear into park, drops his head against the headrest, and sends a glance my way. He can barely keep his eyes open, just as exhausted as I am.
“You said you wanted to release me. But not from what.”
“From yourself,” he says like it should be obvious.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“All that pressure you put on your shoulders, this obsession you have of controlling everything, to please everybody, it’s eating at you.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a little planning,” I counter.
“Fine, don’t believe me. Keep it all bottled up. The quiet ones make the best explosions.”
Then, because this night isn’t absurd enough already, my genius self decides to add, “Is this a silent fart joke?”
Never mind, still high.
Will laughs quietly, shaking his head like he’s wondering what he’s going to do with me. His dark blue eyes mix with mine.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re fucking ridiculous when you’re high?”
That’s when it hits me.
Shit, I’m attracted to him.
Not only am I attracted to him, I’ve been attracted to him this entire freaking night. A week ago, I didn’t even see his charm, much less appreciate it, but now… I can’t deny my body’s reaction to his dimples, those ocean eyes, that laugh.
“What I meant is you let people walk all over you,” he continues. “Like that friend of yours, Zoey. She treats you like trash and you don’t even bat an eye. You’re obsessed with controlling every stupid little thing in your life because you let others control you.”
“Zoey? That’s your argument? I’m just being a good friend.”
He’s not going down without a fight. “Aight. What about the time I pushed you in the pool two summers back? You never tried to get back at me. Never even said a thing.”
I remember that time all too well. It marked the beginning of my boycotting of Kendrick’s friends.
“Maybe I’ve been planning my revenge for months, you ever think about that?”
He scoffs. “You’re not. I’d know.”
“Nobody plans a murder out loud.”
Rather than answering, he leans forward, wearing a confident smile. I stiffen as he breaches my space. Our eyes lock through the darkness of the car: his, teasing, mine, nervous and alert. He’s not so close that I could call him out on it, but also not far enough for me to act unfazed.
I hold my breath when he leans in some more. Then he reaches for my handle and pushes my door open.
Relief takes up all the space in my chest. Except it’s laced with something else. The most unexpected emotion.
Disappointment.
He reclines into his seat. “One day it’s all going to be too much. You’re going to lose it. And it’s going to be fucking amazing.”
I don’t let the thought in. Not even for a second. He’s way off-base here. Yes, Zoey can be a little selfish sometimes, I’ll give him that, but she’s a good person at heart.
“Whatever floats your boat, Willy.” I unbuckle my seat belt, shake off his speech, and climb out of the car, keeping the door open long enough to say, “Thanks for sticking with me tonight. It was…” I pause. “Something.”
He smiles.
“Anytime, control freak.”
I find myself grinning at the nickname. I know control freak is an insult, a mean thing to say, but the way he says it… it sure doesn’t feel like it. I wave, shut the door, and jog toward my house. As soon as it engulfs me, he drives off.
I texted my mom that I was crashing at Zoey’s after the hot tub disaster, but I highly doubt that she bought it. I should be worried about her grounding the life out of me tomorrow. But, to my greatest disbelief, right now, my mom’s wrath is the furthest thing from my mind…
Because I just spent a night of madness with my brother’s insufferable best friend.
And what’s worse?
I liked it.
Kassidy
My eyelids weighing a thousand pounds, I take the exit leading straight onto the highway and cast a glance toward Winter in my passenger seat. We’re both hungover, hissing at the sun like vampires at every street corner.
After Will dropped me off at six last night—or was it this morning—I collapsed into bed, only to be woken up by Winter and Kendrick bickering downstairs five hours later.
I stumbled out of bed and decided to go shopping with my cousin. Why? Because I felt bad for breaking my promise to spend time with her when she first got here. Oh, and because I do stupid things sometimes. Like break into a stranger’s backyard high as a kite with William Martins.
I suggested we get out of the house in the hope that it would take my mind off my nonexistent job. I’ve been thinking—more like obsessing—over why I didn’t get a callback from the pet store since my interview. Granted it’s only been a few days, but I really need this to work out, and the wait is slowly driving me insane.
Here we are, driving back home, stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic after a few hours of wasting money and trying to convince Winter to touch anything with heels.
“So… About the party,” I start, my thoughts drifting to the text Zoey sent me this morning. She said last night took quite the turn, and after Will and I left, the cops showed up.
She also said, her voice loaded with jealousy, that she saw Winter leaving with Haze. No, wait—running with Haze. Something about Haze dragging her away from the police. Winter didn’t come home until eleven this morning. It’s not rocket science. She must’ve slept at his place.
“What about it?” Winter asks, rubbing her temples as though she’s hoping to make her headache disintegrate.
“Rumor has it you slept at you know who’s?”
She scoffs. “You can say his name. He’s not Voldemort.”
“Haze,” I barely say.
“Yeah. I did.”
I can’t help myself. “What’s the deal between you two, Winter? He’s dangerous.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“I’m serious. You need to be careful. I can’t believe you let him take you to his house. You need to stay away from him.”
“I’m trying to,” she assures me.
“Oh, really? Is that why you keep hanging out with Kendrick and his trouble-magnet friends? They’re involved in…” I stop, too much of a chicken to resume. “Some stuff.”