“Found you! Looks like my hoe-bag radar is still spot on,” Jules slurs.
A smile replaces my true expression so quickly it’s scary.
“You say such sweet things,” I tease back, smoothing both palms down the white, linen shorts she insisted I borrow. They were part of a package deal—black tank, black heels and silver hoops included. The only visible article that actually does belong to me is my clutch.
More playful than usual, Jules gently tugs the blonde, fishtail braid on my shoulder. She’d styled it for me while we waited for our ride a few hours ago. Could’ve done it myself, but this stupid splint on my finger makes the simple things practically impossible.
For future reference, the downside of punching someone in the face is the fractured knuckle that comes along with it. But I gotta be honest; it was so worth it. Even if it did result in an end-of-year expulsion and nearly cost me my impending shot at Cypress Prep.
It isn’t something I’d do again, but also isn’t something I regret.
Taking note of Jules’ glassy eyes, her intoxication means I’ve failed. It was on me to make sure she didn’t get out of hand tonight, but finding the letter served as the perfect distraction.
“Whoa! Where’d you come from?” she hiccups, speaking directly to the brick wall she’s clumsily stumbled into.
My hand shoots out to steady the klutzy red-head now leaning beside me. She’s lucky I have quick reflexes.
“Enjoying yourself yet?” she asks reluctantly. “I know you’d rather be at the court or something, instead of hanging on the north side, but I think tonight’s important.”
“So you keep telling me,” I murmur.
Her eyes dart to the back of her head when she rolls them. “Because Jules knows best,” she so readily reminds me.
This—the party scene, these clothes, the lashes and makeup—it’s all her thing, not mine. Especially in this part of town.
As if cued by the universe, sharp screams pierce the air. I look left, toward a trio of girls cannonballing into a well-lit, turquoise-colored pool.
North Cypress is home to the wealthy, the elite. Southsiders like Jules and me stick out like a couple sore thumbs. I can feel it. Standing here—on the lawn of some privileged, rich dick’s sprawling estate—I’m more than aware that we’re out of our element. Yet, I kept my word and came.
Sure, the lure of free drinks and an overabundance of eye candy played a part in Jules insisting I be dragged here against my will, but it’s more than that. This is her way of helping me get acclimated to this world, before I’m shoved into it without a harness at the start of the coming school year.
Starting early September, I’d be at their mercy Monday through Friday. Only to make the trek back to reality at the end of the day, back to my side of town where every night ends the same. With me being serenaded to sleep by the only tune South Cypress has ever known—police sirens and barking dogs.
Home sweet home.
“Do you even know anyone here?” As soon as I ask, my eyes follow a couple who pass by without even noticing us. Mostly because they’re tearing at one another’s clothes like animals, before slipping into the guesthouse through the side door.
“Nope,” Jules answers. “Pandora mentioned the party would be wild, dropped the address here in Bellvue Hills, and I decided we had to crash. Don’t even know whose pad this is.”
I love that she decided my fate before I was even made aware.
“Pandora?
Jules nods. “Mystery girl who tells everyone’s business on all her social accounts.”
“Is—” Before I can ask for clarification about this Pandora chick, I’m cut off abruptly.
“There have to be at least a few hundred people here, don’t you think?” Jules’ words are muffled because she’s speaking them down the neck of a bottle.
She finishes the sip and her head hits my shoulder as I shrug. “Somewhere in the ballpark.”
“Took me forever to find you. I was starting to think you were hiding from me.” There’s an added layer of emotion beneath the statement because she’s more drunk than I realized.
“Never from you, beautiful,” I tease. “I always stand near vomit-filled trashcans at parties. It’s kind of my thing.”
A man-sized burp slips from between her lips and she hardly notices.
“I know you’re being sarcastic,” she observes, “and if I remember in the morning, I’m sure I’ll be offended. So, be ready for an earful.”
Even drunk, she can draw a laugh out of me.
The sound of my ringtone has Jules’ attention before mine. She’s surprisingly alert, considering the state she’s in. Or just plain nosey.
“Him again?”
“Yep.” I barely glance at the screen before pressing ‘ignore’.
“You know you can’t dodge his calls forever, right?”
When I shrug again, her head lifts with the movement. “It’s been working out great so far.”
“Keyword: so far.” The booze-infused breath that wafts past my nose with the comment has me turning my head in the other direction before she continues. “He’s pigheaded. You know that better than anyone.”
Unfortunately, I do know that better than anyone.
“Maybe you should call back? Maybe he’s heard from Hunter and—”
“And, truth be told, I’m good either way,” I cut her off. “Hunter did what he did, and now he’s right where he belongs. End of story.”
Her glassy stare doesn’t let up. I feel it.
“Fine,” she concedes, “I’ll drop it.”
“Thank you.”
Wild, red curls bob when she lifts her head to nod, but she’s suddenly focused on my hand. Or, rather, what I’m holding.
“What’s this?”
I miss the chance to withdraw the letter I’m clutching and it’s hers now. She’s managed to uncrumple it some before I snatch it back, but not without tearing the small corner she
