Page 63 of Cocky Brutal Sinner

Well, I have no idea, since I’ve been asked out zero times.

A girl in my school said you should NEVER wear a plaid shirt on a date if that’s helpful.

Brinley

I’ll take anything at this point.

Eden

If I were you, I’d wear a skirt. Maybe with a sweater?

I sigh, relieved to have some kind of direction. I have exactly one skirt in my wardrobe, a black denim one. After trying on a few different sweaters and sending pics to Eden, we settle on a dark blue one that fits a little tighter than my usual clothes. My hair looks nice, and some lip gloss and mascara makes me look cute without trying too hard. Staring at myself in the mirror, I actually look almost pretty.

I smile at my reflection, trying to look at myself through Beau’s eyes. Do I look grown up enough? How do I even start pretending to be sophisticated?

I practice a closed-mouth smile. That’s good, better than my usual toothy grin.

“Hi, Beau,” I say to my reflection. “Thanks for inviting me out.”

That’s good. Friendly, but not overeager. Anyway, it’s already 7:45, so it’ll have to be good enough.

Thankfully, the coffeeshop is only a fifteen-minute walk from our house, and I don’t have to suffer through the indignity of begging my parents for a ride. It’s a cool summer night, and my feet feel like they’re barely touching the ground. I wonder if Beau is as excited as I am. Maybe he’ll be nervous, too. Maybe he’ll say he’s been thinking about me since the game. Maybe tonight is the beginning of everything.

Mocha Mart is a funky little shop, with neon signs of coffee cups in the windows and vintage arcade games lined against the walls. It’s a big hangout for high school students, and it’s so loud and bright, you can barely see what’s inside until you open the door.

That’s why I don’t see it coming.

The laughter hits me before I can even process what I’m looking at. Luke sits at a large corner table, surrounded by Ryan, Nate, James, and a group of other older kids I’ve never met. They’re all waiting for something, like a pride of lions stalking a gazelle.

Beau isn’t here.

And I’m the gazelle.

Luke holds up my diary and grins at me, and the ground drops out from under me.

“How?” I choke out. I hid my diary—it’s always hidden—and I don’t know how Luke could have gotten into my room to look for it.

Then it clicks. I left my room because I thought Beau wanted to see me. While I was putting in contacts that sting my eyes and burning myself on the straightener, my brother went into my room and took the most private thing I own.

Luke opens the diary and clears his throat. “Beau Bishop has the most beautiful hands I’ve ever seen,” he recites in a high, girly voice. “They’re like an artist’s hands, or the Statue of David’s. They’re so big and masculine, and I can’t stop thinking about what they look like. I wish I could draw them.”

Ryan and Nate clutch their stomachs as they laugh, and James chuckles darkly. “Does anyone have a picture of Beau’s hands?” Ryan yells. “I need to take another look at those things!”

“Oh, this is my favorite part.” Luke turns to another page. “When Beau walks into the room, it feels like I’m floating. I’m like a bubble, light and rainbow-y, except nothing can pop me. I don’t think he has any idea how handsome he is. Maybe—” He pauses for Nate to finish laughing. “Maybe I can tell him one day, so he knows how his eyes look like the bottom of a deep well!”

Luke doubles over laughing and James slaps his back.

I can’t move. I can’t speak. I feel like I’m watching this happen to someone else, like I’m floating above my own body. Then the floating stops, and the pain is so total that I think I might throw up.

Because Beau walks in.

For one fraction of a second—one desperate, pathetic heartbeat—I think he’s here to stop it. He didn’t know their plans. He came to save me.

The guys greet him like a punchline arriving on cue.

“There he is!” Nate grins.

“The man of the hour!” says Luke.