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I know he isn’t serious about public sex, but my belly still clenches in reaction. The idea that he cares so little for the consequences is more than a little hot. Old Drake wanted people to think that he didn’t care about anyone. The new one wants everyone in the world to know that I belong to him.
Feeling suddenly despondent, I pull away from him and reach for my clothes. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
A shaft of moonlight illuminates his frown. “Do what?”
“Stay here. At St. Bart’s, I mean. My sister hates me, like really hates me. She has only been here for a few days and I’ve already dealt with more of it than I can handle.”
He settles next to me on the ground with only his pants on, seeming impervious to the cold. “I sincerely doubt she hates you.”
“Uh, have you seen the way she treats me?”
“I’m getting an idea,” he grumbles. “If she sneaks into my room again, I’m tossing her out the window.”
I can’t help but feel a spike of perverse pleasure at that. The entire school is obsessed with Evangeline Pratt and Drake is the only person who sees through her. But his lack of curiosity about her motives is troubling for an entirely different reason.
“Last time I saw Olivia, she was in a coma. That was almost six months ago. Now, she’s popped back up here like nothing ever happened, with the added bonus of her pretending to be me.” Just putting it into words is crazy. That he seems so relaxed about it really makes me feel like I’m losing my damn mad. “You really aren’t interested in figuring out what the hell is going on here?”
It’s too dark for me to see his face, but I can’t fight the impression that he avoids looking me in the eye.
“Curiosity is a dangerous thing,” he says finally. “If we keep digging, someone is going to get hurt. Olivia has obviously moved on. I think we should do the same thing.”
A queasy feeling suffuses my stomach as I stare at his profile. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Of course not.”
I don’t have a good reason to think Drake is lying, but I can’t stop suspicion from rearing its ugly head. He told me nothing happened with Anton, that going to see him was just another dead-end.
Even though I want to believe him, I’m not sure that I do.
Rising quickly, I stumble on a pile of skittering rocks. “It’s getting late. Can you take me back?”
If I can’t trust Drake, then there isn’t anything left here for me at all.
Chapter Thirteen
Gigi gives me a look like a deer in headlights when I lean over her table at lunch, my face only a few inches away.
I know she doesn’t want to do this. Olivia’s reappearance at St. Bart’s has rocked her confidence in ways that I doubt she expected were possible.
But it’s just like when people are eager to go skydiving and then freak out when the time actually comes to jump out of the plane. Sometimes, the only thing you can do is give them a good shove in the right direction.
“Our table is over there,” I tell her, in a voice that brooks no argument.
“I’m sitting with my friends.” She gestures at Anya and Felicia, who both look at me like I’m a piece of old gum they found on their shoes.
Felicia still hasn’t spoken more than a few words to me since she got back from her trip home. Thank God, she hasn’t figured out that Havoc House is the reason that she almost ended up in immigration detention. It’s going to be hard enough to get her to forgive me as it is.
“Bring them.” I turn on my heel without bothering to wait for a response.
Maybe Gigi has herself convinced that our kiss at breakfast yesterday was a one-off, but she couldn’t be more wrong. We’re going as official as possible without putting a notice in the paper. Anyone who doesn’t like it can come and see me about it.
Cole raises his eyebrows when Gigi settles into the seat next to me. Felicia and Anya take the other two empty seats across from us.
“You’re really doing this, huh?” he asks, voice mild.
“Yep.”
“Cool.” He points at the cherry pie on Felicia’s tray. “You gonna eat that, beautiful?”
