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“Yeah. We’re identical.” Chase grins. “Except I got all the good looks, and Dax got the small hands and tiny di—”
“Shut up, motherfucker.” Dax punches his arm hard before he can finish that sentence, and I raise my eyebrows. “I have an extremely large dick,” he adds.
“I dunno. I’ve seen better,” I say pointedly, flicking a glance down toward his crotch.
Those are the exact words he used to describe my boobs that day in the pool house, and I know he doesn’t miss my reference, because his face flushes.
Chase laughs loudly at my slam on his brother, but the only reason I don’t have a dig for him too is because I didn’t hear what he said about me that day. I know Dax wasn’t the only one talking shit though. Either way, this whole conversation just reminds me why I don’t want to have much to do with these guys.
They can obviously be charming and funny when they want to be, but that doesn’t preclude them being assholes too.
Dax looks pointedly at the joint in my hand, as if I owe him a hit for insulting his manhood or something. I shrug and pass it over.
“Why did Lincoln call Savannah out like that?” I ask as he takes in a long drag. It’s been bugging me since the moment it happened, and now with these two being nice to me, it makes me wonder even more what the hell happened.
“Eh, who knows why that cranky motherfucker does anything.” He shrugs, passing the joint to Chase, but his evasive glance away makes me certain he knows more than he’s saying.
“Seriously, why?” I press. “You guys were all assholes to me when I first got here. You were the ones who basically told everyone to throw trash at me. I didn’t do anything to you before, and I haven’t done anything now. So what changed?”
“I dunno.” Chase shrugs, and he and Dax share a look, their faces doing that eerie twin-reflection thing again. “Maybe Linc just figured you weren’t going to be around all that long, so there was no point in giving you any more shit.”
“What?” I blink, my gaze bouncing between the two of them. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I be around?”
“Don’t worry about it, Pool Girl.” Dax shakes his head, and if I weren’t still stuck on what Chase said, I’d roll my eyes at the fact that even though they’re being nicer to me, that stupid-ass nickname has stuck.
“No, hang on. Why wouldn’t I be around?”
“We gotta get to class. We’ll catch you later.” Chase takes one last quick hit before handing me the joint back. Then he and his brother duck out from under the bleachers and walk away quickly, leaving me gaping at their retreating backs.
What the fuck was that all about? It almost seemed like they came to check on me, but was that comment about me not being here long a warning… or a threat?
I grit my teeth, stubbing the joint out before hefting my backpack over my shoulder as I crawl out from under the bleachers too.
Dammit. I swear to God, if Lincoln or his friends do anything to fuck shit up for my mom and me, I’ll find some way to fuck their shit up right back.
8
There’s a party the next weekend, and I actually get invited. I shouldn’t be so shocked, but I kind of am. After the shitty first week I had, I kind of assumed I’d spend my entire senior year as persona non grata.
But the thing about one of the kings of the school calling out the head cheerleader for being a bitch to you? It kind of makes everyone else think twice about treating you like shit too.
Sure, there are still assholes who whisper taunts at me as I pass by, and I still get the occasional piece of garbage thrown at me. But it’s all subtler and sneakier—not because they’re afraid of getting busted by the teachers or staff, but because they don’t want to get in trouble with Lincoln, River, Dax, or Chase.
Mom’s car is back from the shop, but Mr. Black insisted his son keep driving me to school, saying it only made sense. Lincoln doesn’t offer to drive me to the party though, even though I know he’s going. I hear him leave around eight, but I take a little longer getting ready, curling my hair a little at the ends for a beachy wave look and touching up my makeup.
I don’t have anything very fancy in my wardrobe, so I hope this isn’t that kind of party. But I pick out a soft blue t-shirt and a jacket I like before I go find my mom to tell her I’m leaving.
She’s downstairs in the study talking to Mr. Black. I’m about to walk through the open doorway, but I pause for a second, lingering in the frame. She’s sitting on the couch, and he just got up to refresh his drink, I think. Her gaze lands on me, and her face lights up—but my focus is on his face, and on the look he was giving her just as I walked in.
Like he was… checking her out.
His features smooth immediately as he notices me too, and the two of them smile brightly.
“You heading out, Low?” Mom asks. She was positively giddy when I told her I got invited to a party. She knows things have been better at school, and I think she sees this as a sign of progress.
“Yeah. I won’t be out too late.”
“I trust you.” She smiles.
