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The next night, Miller, Ronan, and I strolled the Boardwalk on one of our nightly prowls. The three of us garnered stares—mostly due to my fabulous wardrobe—and I knew whispers and rumors about us filtered back to the school. But none of us gave a shit what anyone thought. Least of all me.

Okay, least of all Ronan.

But I gave a shit about him. That afternoon, Ronan had come to the Shack with bruises peeking out from under his sleeves and a shiner over one eye. When Miller and I asked what happened, he snarled at us to mind our own fucking business.

Later, Miller left us to hang out with Violet and—finally—tell her how he felt about her. Ronan and I went back to the Shack.

“Is it true that Violet has a thing for River?” I asked Ronan with Academy Award-levels of casual.

He shrugged. “They’re going to Homecoming together unless something happens tonight.”

I nodded.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “What?”

I blinked, pure innocence. “What-what?”

“You’re quiet.”

“It happens.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

I laughed. “Can’t a man contemplate the mysteries of the universe in peace?”

Ronan snorted but left it alone. Unconsciously, he rubbed his upper arm where a bruise lay dark against a tattoo of a black and white owl with orange eyes. I was itching to ask him who’d hurt him, but I had to leave that alone too.

A few hours later, Miller came trudging back.

“Well? How did it go?”

The bonfire cast light and shadows over his hardened expression. “About as bad as humanly possible.”

His boss at the arcade had given him three beach chairs to replace our rocks around the fire. Miller sat in his heavily, tossing his guitar case on the sand with more force than I’d ever seen him use.

“What happened?”

“Violet wanted to make a video of me playing,” Miller said, staring into the fire. “To put on YouTube or something. So I sang for her and the moment…it grew big, and I felt things change and go deeper so I kissed her. And she kissed me back.”

“That doesn’t sound terrible,” I offered, glaring at Ronan who was leaving me to handle this conversation solo.

“It all went to shit,” Miller said. “Nothing changed. I kissed her and nothing changed…” He ran his hands through his hair and then held his head, elbows resting on his knees.

“She and River…?”

“Still going to Homecoming together,” Miller said miserably. He sat up and hurled a pebble into the fire. “Screw it. I’ll ask Amber to the dance. Maybe start something with her and try to just…let Violet go.” His heavy glance went to Ronan. “You going to go?”

“No.”

“What about you?” Miller asked me, and I could see he hoped that at least one of us would back him up.

“No,” I said, ideas whirring in my head—one of them possibly a good one. “I have other plans.”

Chapter Seven

Saturday morning, I came down to breakfast to find Mom sitting with Dad and Amelia at the table and Dazia bustling around in the kitchen.

“Heya, River!” Dad said, his voice and smile both strained. “Ready for the big game today? Coach Kimball tells me scouts from three—three—colleges have confirmed and will be there. All elite football schools.”

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