She lets out a wry chuckle. “This isn’t a girls-before-boys thing. This is a do-what’s-best-for-you thing, though I appreciate the effort, sister.”
A sliver of a laugh bubbles past my lips.
She sounds like the gym coach, telling me I get an A for effort after I trip on my feet and face-plant on the way to the finish line.
I look over at Molly, but before I can say anything, she holds up her hand to stop me.
“Roomie,” she says seriously, “I got 99 problems, but you ain’t one.” She shrugs. “I’m not going to lie. The stuff Finn does gets to me, but I’m also well aware that I’m riding a downhill slope. Next year, after graduation, I don’t have to see any of them, especially Finn Berkshire or Aurora Blakely, ever again.”
I wipe away my tears with the pad of my hand. “Why don’t you just tell your parents? Surely, they would get you out of here.”
She frowns and resumes picking at the rug again. “Call it self-punishment, I guess.”
Her voice breaks on the last word as a knock comes from the door.
Molly stands as I hurriedly fix my tear-matted hair and take one last sniffle. Molly has barely unlocked the door before Raven busts past her.
“Who’s ready to go to a parrtttayyy?” Raven shouts with a fist pump and a whoop before stopping mid-stride to frown down at me.
I scatter to clean up the mess.
“Are you all right?” she asks, pulling off her bedazzled, neon green sunglasses and looking at me. “Because now I feel like a total bitch.” She leans up on her toes to look over into our closet. “Beckett, I swear to God I will kick your ass! Come out here!”
“He’s not here,” I say with a snort.
She kneels on her four-inch heels in front of me. I admire the spiked leather circling her ankles before lifting my gaze.
“Who did this?” she demands.
“It’s nothing,” I say, looking toward Molly. “I am fine. We are fine.”
Raven huffs and purses her fuchsia-painted lips at me. “Fine. I can take a hint. I’ll leave it alone under one condition.”
“Name it,” Molly says as I stand, depositing my notes along with Ian’s atop my bed.
“Come to my party.”
“Raven,” I say, my gaze flitting over to Molly with a frown, “I don’t think…”
“Shut your gorgeous mouth!” Raven snaps, her beautiful chestnut curls bouncing when she takes two steps toward me and raises a hand. She looks over at Molly. “You are both invited. It’s my birthday, and I want you there. It’s like an insult to me if you don’t attend.”
“But,” Molly begins, shaking her head, “we don’t really belong, Raven. Your people aren’t our people. It’s Aurora’s birthday too, and she will freak.”
Raven laughs, showing off her perfect veneers, but there’s real amusement twinkling in her eyes. “My people? I didn’t invite the entire damn Academy. They invited themselves because everyone is itching to get off campus for the weekend and do drunk, stupid teenage things.” She scrunches up her nose. “I don’t even like most of ‘em, with silver spoons stuck so far up their asses they use polish as toothpaste.”
I giggle. Molly snorts before she realizes what she has done and clamps a hand over her mouth.
“I think what Molly means,” I say, “is that they won’t like us being there.”
“I don’t give a shit what they like. It’s my birthday party, and I want you to attend.” She eyes us both. “Look, no one will dare mess with either of you. Barley will be there, and they are all scared shitless of him, even the almighty quarterback.”
“Barley?” I ask.
Raven rolls her eyes and digs her cell out of her pocket before checking the messages. “My doofus brother. He’s gross but humongous. Pops is making him play chaperone, probably as punishment for him and a warning for me. He plays for the Philadelphia Eagles, and my father freakin’ hates it. He was supposed to go to med school, get into the pharmacological business like dear ol’ dad.”
“Oh,” I say, thoroughly confused.
“Barley?” Molly asks like she’s seen a ghost. Now, I am interested. There’s the past, present, and hopeful future written in her gaze.
“Yeah,” Raven nods as she texts someone before sliding her phone into her back jean pocket. “So you two coming or what?”
“Yes!” Molly squeaks, practically leaping toward the closet.
I gape at her.
“Fabulous,” Raven says, but she’s frowning at her phone. She gives us a middle finger salute as she heads to the door. “Until tonight then, bitches. I’ll text you the deets.”
As the door closes behind her, Molly digs through our closet on a mission.
I guess it’s time to go to a party.
25
Harlow
The music hums inside my veins, thrumming all the way to my bones. I dance under the stars, surrounded by drunk classmates as the bonfire blazes off in the distance. The terracotta stones of the patio cradle my feet like they were crafted to hold them, and although I haven’t had anything but a can of Coke since arriving, I feel the buzz of beer and the high of pot lingering in the smoky air. But if I’m honest, it’s not just a contact high. The pills keep away the darkness, and I swallowed one dry just before arriving.
I am a string, played by an invisible violinist. I can’t help but lose myself to the music, the scent of sweat and spilled beer, and the thump, tha-thump of the base knocking inside my chest.
I dance with wild abandon, swaying and twirling with my hands raised to the constellations like I am a witch dancing for my deity under a full moon.
I am afloat in my twirls, the pleats of my white, cotton dress spinning along with me like I am a ballerina and it is my tutu. Molly laughs at the spectacle I must be, and I catch her gaze for a moment as I spin and spin,
