“So you did it to get back at her?” Madeline’s shoulders draw back a fraction, but I catch it. When you’re on the ice, you pay attention to even the subtle movements; it can give you an idea of where your opponent is about to go.
Fuck me. I walked my ass right into that one, and there is only one way to fix it. I bite the bullet.
“I did it for you, Buttercup,” I tell her. “Why would I do shit for Lana?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She’s quick to brush it off. “We have other things we should be focusing on. I’d rather not focus on Lana.” All my focus is pinpointed on Madeline, and I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to.
I can tell that the fraction of softness I’d gotten seconds ago is now gone. How do I manage to fuck shit up with her even when I’m trying to lure her to me?
My trying to win her over isn’t working as well as I want. When a strategy isn’t working, you adapt or lose, and I never fucking lose when it matters. You have to know when it’s time to pivot, so that’s what I do, but with a plan because I know from the short time I’ve been around Madeline, she won’t be letting the situation go.
In my opinion, Coach Murphy isn’t my problem. It’s not my business. I didn’t fucking kill her, and she’s always been sketchy. She’s a tad too chummy with students. It’s weird.
“And what is it you think we should be doing?” I ask, going along. It’s my new tactic, and sadly for the dead coach, she’s going to be my in with my buttercup.
Is that being a dick? Sure. Do I care? Not one fucking bit.
Chapter Seventeen
MADELINE
Luke takes a step back as he asks the question. It’s one I don’t have an answer for, but I know I can’t leave it be.
“Maybe we call the cops?” Grant suggests, picking up a baseball off Luke’s desk and tossing it into the air.
“No,” both Luke and I say at the same time. I’m guessing for different reasons.
“I don’t want the cops sniffing around Madeline,” Luke says.
“You really think they’d believe she killed her because she snuck into her office one time?” Georgia asks. I’m sure Georgia is on team “tell the police,” but we’re past that point, aren’t we? If that were the case, then wouldn’t we have done it last night? They will grill us as to why we didn’t. That’s drama I don’t need because it might affect my sister.
I’m already entangled in a murder, even though I’ve only been at school for a few days. I’m also an outsider. They would pin that shit on me for sure. I can’t get one of those fancy lawyers either.
“I don’t want to,” I tell Georgia, and she gives a small nod, letting me know she’s okay with what I choose.
“But you also can’t leave it alone, can you?” Luke drops down into an oversized chair by the window, though it’s not sooversized for him. He pulls out and clicks away on his phone, reading disinterestedly now.
“You don’t have to help,” I blurt out way too defensively. I don’t want him to help me. I also don’t need him to.Liar.
“You think I’m going to let you two run around playing detective?” Luke nods between Georgia and me. “It’s not happening.”
“You want to bet?”
“Buttercup, this isn’t one you want to challenge me on.” He drops his phone into his lap, leaning forward and putting his elbow on his knees. His eyes lock on to mine, that laid-back, I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude I can’t stand slipping away. Is it an act? Why do I kind of want it to be? I’m losing it. I want him to back down, and when he does, I’m annoyed.
I lick my suddenly dry lips at his intensity. Does he want to do this or not?
“You don’t even care.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He tosses my own words right back at me. Why does it burn, and why do I care?Stay focused, Madeline, I remind myself. I can’t let a boy distract me or get in my head. There are bigger issues at hand here. Someone is dead.
“It doesn’t matter, but you want to help.” I don’t get it, but then again, when it comes to Luke, I don’t understand many things, and that’s not all on him, if I’m honest with myself. Which I really don’t want to be.
“Use whatever phrasing you need to come to terms with it.” I open and then close my mouth. I’m normally quick with my retorts, but this one caught me off guard, as Luke always does. Right when I think I’m getting my footing with him or the upper hand, he manages to shift in a direction I wouldn’t have predicted. It’s annoying and intriguing.
“Fine.” I shrug my shoulders. “You can help.”
He smirks, letting me know he already knew that.
