Thank God almighty Julia stayed home tonight.
If she knew this was the last night she’d see Luke, she’d have come out for sure, ruining everything, like she always has.
But since she’s not here, I’m letting my guard down, hanging closer to Luke. Even standing in front of him, taking his arms and wrapping them around my chest for a sec.
I’m drunk. I’ve had two cups of Hunch Punch and am now working on my first beer. After today, I need it.
Luke is tipsy but not as wasted as me, and he smartly wriggles out of the embrace, careful to not let anyone see us. We are still supposed to be a secret. Not just to Julia, but to Nellie, and to everyone else as well.
And then I hear it. Hooves. Clip-clopping out of the parking lot. Through the wavy sticks of candlelight, I see Cookie. And riding Cookie, Julia.
Fuck me. She’s made us, me and Luke. She knows. Now we reallydohave to leave town. But not in the morning. Tonight. As soon as this is over.
Or Blair’s not the only one who’s gonna get hurt.
83
Jackson
“I’m such a fool, Charleigh,” Jackson says, his belly and veins swimming with the frozen drinks.
“What are you talking about?” She tilts her head to one side, reaches out, places a palm on his forearm.
“Ethan. I fell for him. Big time.”
“Oh, honey! You’re not a fool! I get it! he’s such a looker. Hey, it’s okay to have a crush, ya know?”
“Oh, no! This went way beyond the crush stage.”
The server reappears, splits the rest of the pitcher between their glasses. “Y’all want another?”
“You bet,” Charleigh answers, not breaking eye contact with Jackson. “What are you talking about—”
Fuck it. Here goes.
“A few weeks ago, hell, maybe it’s been a month, I ran into him at Sullivan’s, you know that little bar—”
“That little shithole, yes, go on—”
“And we hit it off. Like, really hit it off. I don’t know how to describe it other than that. But we had this instant connection. I’m a designer, he’s a custom woodworker, and there waschemistry.”
Charleigh narrows her eyes; she’s almost squinting, like she’s trying to puzzle something out. After a minute, she finallyreplies, “And you never thought to tellmeabout it?”
“Well, youhatedthem from the jump, so…and I didn’t know if anything was gonna happen between us. Like, really develop. So yeah, I’m sorry, but I kept it to myself.”
A knife tip of anger burns in Jackson’s chest. He knew she’d be pissed about this, about being kept in the dark, but my God, why does she always have to make every single thing abouther?
She stirs her drink, pouts. Sucks the ’rita through the straw, her cheeks puckering from the force with which they’re pulling. “Well, whatdidhappen?”
“We hooked up!” Jackson says with a flare of pride in his voice over his conquest. Even though he despises Ethan Swift, or whatever the hell his real name is, he still feels the friction of attraction, still remembers how it felt being with Ethan. Not that he’d ever want to be with him again, even if Ethan came begging. As if.
“Youdid? Like, when? Where? How? And seriously, how the fuck did you keep this all from me?”
“It happened gradually. Remember that day you dragged me out to their land for that vagina revival? He came on to me then.But I’m such an idiot; he was never really into me. I know that now. He was using me,” Jackson says, then lifts his glass, rakes a clump of slush into his mouth, “to get to people like you.”
“I don’t understand—”
“What I found out in Dallas is that’s part of the scam. He hooks up with people like me, lonely gay men, and uses them to gain connections to rich people. Makes them furniture, yes, but also steals from them. Jewelry and whatnot.”
