Tugging on my skinny jeans, I hop carefully across to my closet and snatch the first jacket that I see. A tailored coral pink number, it suits the pale denim on my legs perfectly. Unable to shake the habit, I spend a lot more time picking out the perfect pair of boots than necessary, justifying the waste of precious minutes with the reasoning that I have no idea where Greer wants to take me.
We might see Barrett. He might see me first.
Why impressing him still means so much to me when I more or less stated we could only be friends, I don’t know. But I suppose underneath the afflicted mess he revealed to me earlier in the week, I still saw that mysterious and sensual boy I’ve chased for the better part of two years.
Romantic or not, we could still be a good fit.
For all I know, a stint in rehab might see him return to the dream marriage material I’ve fantasised about for so long. Or perhaps it’ll reveal something else? Best not to dwell on it when you’re on the out, Lacey.
I sneak down the hallway, boots in hand, and pause at Colt’s door. His light is out also—a little early for him—but I push inside anyway. I’ve always been able to trust him to have my back, and if Mum gets wind of my absence, I’ll need cover.
My foot smacks a box concealed in the shadows. Cursing under my breath, I make it to his bed.
He’s not there.
I don’t have time to process how that makes me feel properly. All I know is if it turns out that my parents allowed him to go out, I’ll feel a darn sight worse than if he’s merely done the same as me and taken matters into his own hands.
Greer waits on the street—engine running but lights out.
I creep into her passenger seat before I dare slide my boots on; my toes are frozen.
“I think we’ll still make it.” She eases slowly down the street before picking up speed and switching her lights on.
“Make it where?” I left my damn phone behind in my haste.
“The petrol station.”
I lean back and note the orange light on her dash panel. “You know, they make that wee warning for a reason.”
She chuckles, her focus on the dark street ahead. “I’m lazy. Plus, there’s totally a cute guy who works Sunday mornings, so if I can stretch it, I do.”
“Small things, huh?”
“Small things,” she agrees.
I let my gaze roam down her ensemble while I massage the warmth back into my feet: a short, full skirt paired with a soft cashmere sweater that falls off one shoulder. There’s no jacket in the back, no coat, which means she intends to be indoors.
“Where are we going after we get gas?”
“Richard’s.” She glances my way. “Do you honestly think I’d let you go without a proper goodbye?”
I want to say that nobody else seemed concerned with the idea, but I choose to keep the opinion to myself. “Thank you.”
She knows Mum’s thoughts on the idea. She was the first person I messaged to let off steam. Hence the midnight dash, I guess.
“Are you sure we haven’t missed out on the best part of the night?”
Greer shakes her head, loose brunette waves swinging with the movement. “Not at all. Things were starting to warm up when I left.”
“You’ve been there already?” I can hardly expect her to stay home out of solidarity, but it still burns to feel as though I’m the only one who missed out.
“Only for a short while.” She pulls up at a petrol bowser. “Back shortly.”
I tug my coat tighter to ward off the chill of the night air when she opens her door. Greer starts the usual pantomime with the attendant, playing dumb and helpless, while I slip on my boots. She knows how to pump her gas, but with a pop of her hip and a bite of the lip, she has the middle-aged guy doing the full service, including cleaning her windscreen.
“I’d hate to see what you do on Sunday if that’s how the nightshift guy gets treated,” I sass when she drops back in the car.
“I don’t have to work hard on him,” she retorts as she turns the engine over. “He practically salivates at what he can’t have.”
To anyone else, her statement would sound entitled and rude. But I know my best friend better. She’d probably date the Sunday guy in a heartbeat.
It’s her parents that wouldn’t allow it.
“Hey, did you hear why Barrett wasn’t at school this afternoon?”
I shake my head. “Christian probably knows why.” My last day was a mess of ensuring I have all my records and transcripts to take with me to Arcadia, but it hadn’t slipped past me that the object of my curious affection was absent after second break.
I’d love to say I’m not so vain that I assumed it was because of me … but a part of me wonders.
“Libby wants to talk to you when we get to Richards,” Greer reveals.
“Really?”
“Something to do with your parents, I think.”
I frown, running the glossy tip of my thumbnail against the pad of my index finger. “Why wouldn’t she just message me?”
A soft smile crosses Greer’s lips as she turns her head briefly to look at me. “Some things are better-said face to face.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better, you know?”
“Sorry.” She huffs a gentle laugh out her nose.
The car falls silent the remainder of the drive to Richard’s. His parents own a large house on the outskirts of Riverbourne, right where the suburb blends into the city. Their stately home stands proud in the centre of their street, visible from either end. Manicured gardens decorate a gorgeous stone façade, strategic lights illuminating the vast size of the two-storey home.
I tug my coat tighter as Greer and I walk up the topiary-lined sandstone path toward the front doors.
I expected music or, at the very least, the hollers of my peers enjoying
