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And Drew McKay’s best friend.
“I might have to work,” she said lamely. Her heart was kicking.
“I hear you,” he said.
“You said you weren’t working tonight,” said Quinn. “Free and clear, you said.”
Becca slapped her water bottle on the table. “Damn it, Quinn.”
“Free and clear, huh?” Hunter said.
“Look,” she said, hearing her voice come out choked. She had to clear her throat. “That party is going to be at Drew McKay’s house... .”
“Old boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Yes,” said Quinn. When Becca glared at her, she shrugged. “It’s true.”
His pierced eyebrow lifted. “Still carry a torch?”
“No,” she snapped.
Hunter was just looking at her, his eyes bright and challenging again. Her breath caught. Forget running a race—this felt like dancing.
“In or out?” he said.
All that air left her lungs in a rush. She stared right back at him.
“In.”
Chris counted the rust-colored cinderblocks of the detention room. Twice.
When the bell rang, he scowled through the lecture about a next time and hustled up the stairs to the front hall. Gabriel and Nick weren’t exactly patient.
They weren’t exactly there, either. The bench by the double doors sat empty.
Chris swore.
It was only three miles. He’d walked it before.
The last time sucked.
But Michael’s work truck sat idling in the fire lane, a massive red pile of steel with their last name on the door. The diesel engine roared over the extracurricular students spilling through the double doors, a low thrum that moved the pavement.
Michael was working on something, his head bent over a notebook.
Chris was halfway through the crosswalk when Michael’s voice caught him. “Don’t screw with me, Chris.”
Whatever. Chris climbed into the cab and flung his backpack on the floorboards. The truck perpetually smelled like mulch and grass clippings and always reminded him of his father.
He didn’t look at his brother. “What are you doing here?”
Michael flipped the notebook closed and shoved it into the center console. “It seemed as good a place as any to catch up on paperwork.”
This would go on forever and a day if Chris let it. “Would you just say whatever you came to say?”
Michael waited for students to clear the road before pulling the truck away from the curb. “I think you’re the one who needs to do some talking.”
