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Finn sneers. “I beat up his brother, too, but go on.”
Is he talking about my shirt?
No, he can’t be.
Xavier sighs. “You know the Asters shove shit into their pockets at parties. You never gave a damn before.”
“Your point?” Finn drawls.
“Theo said he ran into them at Lacey’s, and they’re thinking of going to the police. This is no fucking joke, Finn. You’re eighteen. You can forget about juvie if shit goes wrong. Now, it’s straight to jail.”
It’s obvious that Xavier’s the levelheaded guy here. The golden boy who gives his all to basketball and his dreams while his best friend is off self-destructing and setting shit on fire.
“I have security footage of them leaving my house with three trash bags full of our shit. Let them go to the fucking cops,” Finn counters.
“Sure, they stole from you. That doesn’t give you the right to break into someone’s house and beat them up. Who gives a shit about a shirt?”
Finn pauses for long seconds.
“It was an important shirt.”
My palm flies to my mouth.
He lied to my face earlier.
All the things he said about getting his own stuff back were bullshit. But why? Why is he so desperate to keep me from seeing the good in him?
“Your dad’s going to flip his shit if you get arrested again. What the hell were you thinking?” Xavier scolds.
“Are you my underwear?” Finn deadpans.
Xavier is taken aback by the question.
“Then I don’t need you up my fucking ass.”
That’s when I know I’ve heard enough.
I rotate, about to walk away, and accidentally knock my knee against the plant behind me.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“What was that?” Xavier questions.
“Do you think the house sitter’s up?” Axel guesses.
“Nah, that’s probably just Lexie,” Finn assures. “Don’t worry about it.”
Luckily, his friends buy it and resume their conversation. The pressure in my shoulders dissipates, my chest swelling up with relief. I stay there for over ten minutes while the boys talk, terrified to make another move.
“A’ight. I’m beat. You can let yourselves out,” Finn says.
“Are you fucking serious right now? You called us all the way out here for ten minutesof smoking?” Axel objects. “I’m high as a fucking giraffe. What am I supposed to do? Go home and stare at the ceiling?”
“Fuck if I know. Go get yourself a hobby or something,” Finn suggest.
