“So…?”
“He’s cool.” I shrugged. “We’re sorta friends.”
“You had sex with him, didn’t you?”
I gaped. “No. I mean…not recently.”
“I knew it!” She did a fist pump. “I’m so damn good. I figure shit out. Does Duke know?”
I thought about the immediate aftermath of my bathroom tryst with Preston, and how Duke had correctly surmised that I’d been fucking. “What do you think?”
Skye giggled. “Yeah, that’s Duke. Always knowing shit.”
“And never afraid to let you know that he knows,” I added.
“That part,” she chirped.
“Anyway, it hasn’t happened since then, and it’s not going to happen.”
“Okay.”
“I hate when you say that.”
The corner of her mouth curved up. “Hey, I’m just sayin’. But you know…it’s always better to be honest with yourself at least.”
“Girl, I’m—” A knock at the door interrupted my thought. Frowning, I stood. “Hang on.”
“It’s okay. I have to board in a few minutes. I’ll keep an eye on things, and I’ll be in touch if I need to.”
“Thanks, Skye.” I ended the call and walked to the door.Speaking of my fake boyfriend…I smoothed my hand over my clothes and checked out my reflection in a small mirror by the door. It was no use. My hair was a mess and my clothes were hanging off. Basically, I looked like warmed-over shit. But I opened the door anyway and forced a bright smile. “Preston, hey. I thought we weren’t meeting up until later.” The fundraiser I’d agreed to attend wouldn’t start until seven.
Preston didn’t meet my gaze. “Hey.”
The first thing I noticed was the angry bruise on his jaw. Frowning, I pulled him into the house. “Are you okay?” He didn’t answer me right away and he still hadn’t made eye contact. “Preston. What happened?”
When he finally glanced at me, I gasped. My hand flew to my chest because…Oh my God. He was crying.
Chapter Nine
Halfcrazy
Dallas
I’d mastered the art of the silent treatment right around the age of nine. I remember it like it was yesterday—what I had on, where I was. Duke had told Jonathan Matthews that I had the cooties. And I’d crushed on Jon so hard, it felt like my world was ending. To make matters worse, Jon spread the rumor in school. Embarrassed was an understatement. I was humiliated.
I didn’t speak to Duke for seven days. By the time that week was over, Duke was begging me to talk to him, and Jonathan was pleading with me to forgive him. While I’d eventually relented and let my brother back into my good graces, I never talked to Jon again. Not years later when he gave me a bouquet of pink carnations during the eighth-grade formal. Not even when he took out an “I apologize” ad in the high school yearbook.
Yet, as good as I was with giving the silent treatment, I hated when someone gave it to me.Hate it. For instance, it’d been half an hour since Preston had shown up at my door and he’d said no more than three words.NoandThank you.
“Are you hungry?” I asked after another long moment of silence.
He shook his head.
“Okay,” I murmured.
Thinking back, it occurred to me that Preston had been dealing with something for quite some time. My mind floated to the bar, the sad look in his eyes, his untouched shot of liquor. He hadn’t talked about it then either, but I’d hoped he would. And now…I could see he wasn’t in a good place. I could feel his anguish, his despair. The tears I’d seen in his eyes earlier were still there. I wanted to fix it.
“My mother is a drunk,” he whispered.
