Fuck. My. Life.
After all these years of secretly pining for him, after we finally found the courage to come out about our feelings for each other, and we discovered our friends to be miraculously fine with it, now we had to hold back?
“Tell me about it,” he grumbled in shared frustration, slamming his now free hand against the steering wheel.
When we pulled into the parking lot of Ridgemore High we found Brady, Layla, and Hunt already there, waiting for us beside Bonnie. Their eyes were wide as they took in the new color of Clyde, who we knew wasn’t really Clyde at all. Gone was the Mustang we’d all worked on so lovingly for so many months.
Their reaction to the difference was all it took to release some of the tension I was carrying in my neck and shoulders. Whatever the next act of this shitshow would reveal itself to be, at least we were all in on it together.
“Thank fuck,” I muttered under my breath as I got out of the car to find Griffin already at my door, ready to close it for me. I arched my brows at him, but he simply shrugged.
“Hey, chivalry’s not dead.”
I supposed he had always treated me a bit differently from the others, even Layla. His gaze had lingered, his touch had drifted in my direction as if of its own volition, his smile had lit his eyes. At least, from the last cycle of memories I had, this was how he’d behaved. It wouldn’t arouse suspicion, and even if it did, fuck it, I wasn’t ready to give up more of Griffin than this crazy situation was already obligating me to.
I smiled up at him, remembering how he’d told me he loved me. “Thanks.” Now at least he knew I loved him back.
The wins weren’t many, but they were there if I searched for them.
After the door shut behind me, his fingers traveled to my lower back, trailing softly along the one-inch stretch of exposed skin between my low-slung jeans and my cropped shirt.
My eyelids wanted to drift closed as I leaned into his touch. Just knowing I wouldn’t be able to have it openly and with ease made me want to throw Griffin to the ground and have at him right then and there in the rapidly filling parking lot.
As if he could read my thoughts, his grip tightened with what felt like searing possession, and softly, so softly that no secret mic would pick it up, he moaned. All on its own, my body leaned back into him.
Layla cleared her throat. Through what felt like a haze, I dragged my attention over to her.
Her light eyes danced with awareness as she grinned at us. “Good morning, guys. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Griffin gave them a guy-nodhellowhile I just stared at them all, fully back here with them now. I wanted to bellow out, “What the fuck are we supposed to do now?”
But none of us could openly share the panic that was undoubtedly scrolling through our minds.
It was so royally messed up.
Our invisible audience was possibly already on the edge of their seats, wondering if we were acting strange because something had gone wrong or if that’s just how we were. We couldn’t risk them trying to reboot us again. The next time, their hypnosis very well might stick and we’d be completely at their mercy again. Or maybe next time they’d do something worse, more difficult to overcome.
No, we had this one chance to figure this all out and come out on top. This one opportunity where we were in the know. We had to play our parts as convincingly as theparentsdid, even if the deception felt wrong.
“Whazzup, guys?” I said. “Looking forward to another day of boring classes?”
Were our classes the same as the last time we’d been in school, before we were gunned down? I’d have to keep things vague until I could check my school schedule, which I typically kept in my planner in my locker. If my locker combo was different, we were screwed.
Brady chuckled darkly. “When am I ever looking forward to classes? I am looking forward to lunch though. And maybe a group run after school today? My legs could use a good stretch.”
“Mine too,” Hunt said.
“Yeah, I’m down,” Layla added, even though she was the one most likely to complain about our group runs. When Hunt found his stride, he pushed to keep going. One time, he’d convinced us to do fifteen miles. Layla had never forgiven him for that.
But running outside was the one place where we could actually talk.
Unless we were chipped, like Hunt thought we might be, in which case we’d lost the game already. Wehadto be able to communicate without resorting to passing notes like we were in the third grade.
“It’s a plan,” I agreed, knowing Griffin would definitely be on board. “I’m also down for a good workout session with the dummy. I’m in the mood to hit something.”
“Girl,” Layla said, “I want to beat the fuck out of something. Or someone.”
Brady somehow managed to get out a good-natured laugh that sounded so authentic I peered at him. “Aw, my little sister, always so fucking sweet.”
