Page 57 of People Like Us

“You can’t hate me forever,” I teased.

“Not forever, just long enough for you to get bored of the attention August gives you so I don’t have to see you anymore.”

I leaned close, the tip of my nose almost touching his. “Well, I’m always going to be a slut for attention, Wyatt, so you might as well dance with me. I’ll even take my heels off so we’re the same height.”

He glanced at August, terrified, but August just shrugged and smiled at him. “I find it’s usually worth it if you just do what she wants.”

Wyatt was stiff at first, but by the second track, he had managed to stop stepping on my toes, though his hands never touched anything but my own.

A few minutes later, my lace-trimmed socks slid across the hardwood as Wyatt spun me outward. Under his breath, he laughed despite himself. I stumbled forward and August caught me at the waist, steadying me with gentle strength. His palm settled over mine, his other hand landing on the small of my back. He rocked us back and forth, as we stepped in a circle, his smile so bright I wanted to stay there in the light of it until I’d memorized the shape of each of his teeth.

“I wish I could take you to formal,” he murmured so only I could hear.

“You’d get dressed up for me?” I asked, fighting the small ache in my chest.

His brows drew together. “Have I not been clear in my intentions to do whatever you ask of me?”

“Maybe not clear enough,” I challenged, lifting my chin.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear. “Are you going to command me to go, or are you expecting that I ask you with roses and everything?”

My cheeks flamed. He’d heard the conversation I’d had with Andy in the cafeteria. “Does it matter?” I whispered.

He pulled back just enough to flash a smirk. “No. I’d comply either way, but one is more realistic than the other.”

“Which one?” I asked dryly.

He smiled again, long canines catching the light. “The roses, of course.”

“It’s a month away. You might get bored of me by then,” I joked, softening my voice. August stilled, his expression turning serious.

“Don’t say that.” His tone was pleading. “We don’t have to…do what we did the other night again. You can draw boundaries anywhere you want with me, Sin. But please don’t say there’s some version of us that aren’t friends.”

“August…” I breathed.

“I know we graduate in a few months and we’ll both head off to college, but you promised we’d stay honest no matter how long we went without speaking. I want to always think of you as my friend, Lola.”

The way he said my name, strained and serious, sent a thrill through me, and I pressed my hips tighter to his. “Me too.”

His smile returned, but he looked away, scanning the room.

“My sister’s been in the bathroom a while. Would you mind checking on her?” he asked quietly. I hadn’t even noticed she’d slipped away. “It’s upstairs, to the left.” His fingers brushed mine, and I climbed the stairs, the soft echo of Stevie Nicks following me through the house.

I heard Morgan heaving before I even reached the top of the stairs. I knocked softly, the sound muted in the narrow hallway. “Morgan? Are you okay?” I asked, voice low.

“I’m fine.” Her words trembled through the door, edged with panic over the abrupt flushing of the toilet. I leaned against the wall, listening to the frantic rattling of a toothbrush in her haste. After a moment, the door creaked open. She stood there, blonde strands plastered to her cheeks with sweat, eyes wide like I wasn’t the person she was expecting.

“You okay?” I repeated, stepping into the bathroom. The strong scent of floral air freshener mingled with minty toothpaste.

She forced a bright smile and nodded. “Just had a bit too much pizza.” Her cheeks glowed pink under the harsh overhead light.

She turned to leave, but froze mid-step when I asked quietly, “How many is too many?”

Her back stiffened. Slowly she swung around, the glossy surface of the mirror reflecting her too-bright expression. “What do you mean?” she laughed, though the sound trembled.

“Your brother seems to think we have something in common. I’m guessing that’s why he sent me up here.” I gestured toward the door, heart pounding in my throat.

Her lips parted in a little “O,” and her eyes flicked between me and the hallway. Silence stretched so long I could hear my own pulse. Finally I said, “You want to show me your room? If I don’t spend at least a few minutes up there, he’s going to think I’m lying for you—and we kind of have a thing about not lying to each other.”