AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But it didn’t feel silly. It felt like falling.
Part III
Chapter Twenty-Two
May
“Well, gentlemen.” Holden stretched like a cat. “What kind of trouble shall we get into tonight?”
I squeezed the bottle of lighter fluid. A stream arced into the bonfire, making it roar.
“Arson,” Holden mused. “An interesting option. We haven’t tried that one, but I’m game. Stratton?”
Miller strummed his guitar and sang, “All my friends are heathens, take it slow…”
“Indeed,” Holden said. “I am the psychopath sitting next to you. Or is that Wentz?”
I smirked. “You’re in a good mood.”
“Is that allowed? Or do the Lost Boys have to be tragic and lost every minute of every day?”
I exchanged amused glances with Miller, but inwardly, I was glad. Lately, Holden had been sticking to beer instead of vodka, and the smile plastered to his face wouldn’t quit. I guessed things were going good between him and River Whitmore, though I wondered if it would last.
And if I’d have to kick Whitmore’s ass if it didn’t.
Miller smiled a lot more too. Violet wasn’t here that afternoon; it was just us, but she and Shiloh were regulars now. Holden never brought River who was barricaded in the closet behind his King of the Jocks rep, so the five of us hung out most nights, laughing, talking, and listening to Miller play.
He strummed a few more bars of “Heathens.”
“Who is that again?” I asked.
“Twenty-One Pilots. It was on the Suicide Squad soundtrack. I think it’s our theme song.”
“I prefer Suicide Squad to the Lost Boys,” Holden said. “Would I not make an exceptional Joker?”
He tugged on the lapels of his expensive winter coat. The weather was growing warmer by the day, but he was still bundled up. I guessed that meant things with River weren’t perfect. But what was ever perfect? They hid their relationship at school, same as Shiloh and me.
Shiloh and me…
It’d been weeks and that phrase wasn’t close to getting old. I hid a smile behind my beer so the others wouldn’t see it and give me shit.
Holden settled into his chair with a satisfied sigh as the sun began to dip below the horizon. “This, gentlemen, is a rare moment of tranquility.” He looked to Miller. “You’re on the cusp of stardom and—even more miraculous—Wentz, here, hasn’t been suspended in more than a month…”
They both applauded, and Miller whistled through his teeth.
I chuckled. Assholes.
“And for the time being, I’m…what’s the word?” Holden snapped his fingers, pretending to think. “Starts with an H?”
“Heathen,” Miller put in and strummed a few chords.
“Yes, but that other, more elusive H word.”
“Happy,” I muttered into my beer bottle. The word tasted foreign to me too, but for the first time in a long time, it was starting to fit.
“Bingo.” Holden beamed, but I saw how fragile his happiness was in his eyes. Whitmore still had plans to go away to college and play football, leaving Holden behind.
But things are good now. They might stay good.
