“Skyla,” he says quietly. “You’re trapped in a timeline that’s destroying everything you love. Your mother has made it clear that she has no intention of releasing you. If there’s even a chance that seeing the future could give you the information you need to escape this situation, isn’t it worth the risk?”
I stare up at him, weighing the pros and cons of what he’s suggesting. On one hand, kissing Marshall has always been dangerous territory—the visions are unpredictable and often more confusing than helpful. On the other hand, we’re running out of options, and desperate times do indeed call for desperate kisses, I mean,measures.
The sound of wind through the trees and the distant hum of traffic from the school parking lot are all we hear, save for the fact the forest is silent. This feels like the kind of moment where major decisions get made, where the trajectory of everything changes based on a single choice. Where major regrets are born.
“If I do this—” I start, and Marshall’s smile becomes triumphant and predatory. I shake my head and step sideways, away from the tree and away from him. “No. I can’t.”
Marshall’s expression shifts to something between disappointment and frustration. “Skyla?—”
“No,” I repeat more firmly. “I’m married, Marshall. ToLogan. And toGage, even if he doesn’t remember it yet. I can’t keep using you as my personal crystal ball every time things get complicated.”
“This isn’t about marriage. This is about survival.”
“Everything is about marriage when you’re married,” I say, surprised by how certain I sound. “I’ll find another way to figure out what Candace has planned. One that doesn’t involve betraying the people I love.”
Marshall stares at me for a long moment, and I can see him processing this unexpected turn of events. “You’re making a mistake.”
“Probably. But it’s my mistake to make.”
He nods slowly, and there might be a glimmer of respect in his eyes, but mostly there’s a smugness that assures me I’ll regret this.
“Fair enough,” he says with a slight bow. “But when this all goes to hell, don’t say I didn’t offer to help.”
“When this goes to hell, I’ll deal with the consequences.”
Who are we kidding?
It’s already gone to hell.
32
Skyla
Before I can blink, the most sacred night in a teen’s life is upon us—Friday night arrives like a freight train full of bad decisions.
Ellis’ mansion pulses with the kind of chaotic energy that only comes from giving a bunch of teenagers unlimited access to copious amounts of alcohol, music loud enough to burst an eardrum, and zero adult supervision.
The lights are dimmed to that perfect level where everyone looks more attractive than they actually are, and the air is thick with the familiar scent of skunky weed, boozy beer, and teenage hormones racing through the night faster than Chloe Bishop can sink her talons into Gage Oliver’s baseball bat.
Red Solo cups litter every surface like plastic confetti, and the bass from whatever angry rock song is blasting through the sound system vibrates through the floor and straight into my skull. Migraine incoming.
And have I mentioned that I shoved my feet into heels? Itseemed like a good idea when I saw how cute they looked in my closet. I’ve always been a sucker for pink heels with blue jeans. And I have a feeling I’ll be a sucker for a good foot massage once the night is through, too.
All of West Paragon HighandEast Paragon High seem to be crammed into the Harrison mega mansion, creating a perfect storm of drama, bad decisions, and the kind of memories that people either cherish forever or spend years trying to forget.
“Skyla!” Michelle Miller waves me over from her position near one of the kegs, where she’s holding court with a group of guys who look as if they’d follow her off a cliff if she asked nicely, plus Drake and Ellis. “Settle a debate. Drake here thinks you and Logan are in it to win it, but Ellis thinks you and Gage have better chemistry.”
“Not just better chemistry,” Ellis chimes in with that stoned philosopher grin of his. “I’m talking about that raw, primal, can’t-keep-their-hands-off-each-other energy. Like when you two are in the same room, the temperature goes up ten degrees, and everyone else becomes furniture. Logan’s all brooding intensity, but Gage? That boy looks at you like you’re oxygen and he’s been holding his breath his whole life.”
A part of me wants to swat Ellis on the head with an entire sleeve of red Solo cups for even going there. The other part of me wants to weep.
“I think all three of them should just get together and call it a day,” Lexy chimes in from somewhere behind a cloud of suspicious smoke. “Why fight over her when they could just share? And if there’s room for one more, I won’t complain. It’s all very progressive, very modern.”
“Very weird,” Emily adds, cropping up with that dead Goth look in her eyes.
I’m about to respond with something appropriately sarcastic when Michelle steps in close, and I get the feeling she’s about to turn this into a full interrogation of my non-existent sex life.
“Seriously, though,” she says, boldly swirling her drink and sloshing some beer at her feet. “I need details. Are you actuallydating both of them, or is this like some twisted way to see who wants you more?”
