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My heart starts beating harder as I move closer, listening intently. They’re standing in the woods, between the trees, just two shadows lost in the night.
“I know you. That’s why I’m asking,” the guy doesn’t sound the least bit amused.
Pitcher groans. “It was just that one time.” There is soft rustling, and then, “Here. Happy now?”
The other guy counts the money before shoving it into his pocket and pulling out a baggie.
What the hell am I doing here? This was such a bad idea.
I’m about to turn around to get out of there before either of them notices me, but I barely make a step before a softsnapechoes in the night.
Shit.
Both heads turn in my direction. Even though the dealer has a black hoodie pulled over his head, I can feel his eyes zero in on me. “What the fuck did I tell you about bringing company?”
“Hey, don’t look at me. I didn’t invite anybody.”
Maybe I can still leave without them noti—
I take one step when his voice stops me.
“Prescott Wentworth.” My whole body stiffens at the amusement in the pitcher’s voice. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Slowly, I turn around. I have already been caught sneaking around, so it’s not like it’ll make any difference.
The pitcher knowingly smirks as he takes me in, his gaze stopping pointedly at my leg. “Then again, is it really? How’s that leg of yours doing these days?”
“Fine,” I bite out.
He raises his brows. “That why you’re here?”
“I got here by mistake.”
“Yeah.” That annoying smirk grows bigger. “That’s what we all say.”
I press my lips together, my fingers curling into fists by my sides as he walks closer to me, that grin still on his lips. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell if you won’t,” he makes a motion of zipping his lips. “But between you and me, Manolo has the good stuff.”
The pitcher looks over his shoulder. “Hook up our friend here, will ya? The football team depends on him to deliver this season.”
With that, he walks away, leaving me alone with the dude standing in the shadows.
Manolo.
I expect him to bolt immediately, but he just leans against the tree and crosses his ankles.
“So?” He tilts his chin toward me. “What do you need?”
I can’t see the guy’s face but based on his voice, he sounds young. Probably around our age or even younger.
“I don’t…”
He interrupts me before I can finish. “Weed? Molly? Something harder like coke? Or are you looking for performance enhancers?”
I shake my head. Is this guy for freaking real? He’s acting like we’re at a town fair, bargaining for apples. “I’m not…”
“Pain meds?”
My heart stops, my mouth hanging open. The corner of his mouth twitches in amusement. He finally found something to grab my attention, and he knows it.
