Instead, her expression freezes for a second, and then the evilest smile I have ever seen creeps across her face.
Like she’s telling me she’s on top, she’s won this.
I snap my head away and bolt from the room.
51
Jackson
Jackson’s not a smoker, but he’s having a cig now, with the valet crew.
He stepped around front to take care of the guys, pay them before the night is over, before the mad dash of inebriated partygoers descending to collect their vehicles.
He smokes for the camaraderie and to cool his nerves. He still hasn’t gotten a second with Ethan. He made an awkward attempt a few minutes ago to wedge himself between Ethan and Kyle, but Ethan shot him a look that said,How can I possibly escape right now?
So Jackson bowed out, let it go. But the more he imbibes, the more desperate he’s feeling to blurt their nasty secret out.
He’s also been watching Alexander like a hawk. Alexander, who is positively beaming tonight.
Jackson exhales, following the stream of smoke with his gaze, then stubbing the cigarette out on the drive.
He’s anxious to get back to Ethan, or at least to watching Ethan, but he wants to slip inside first, freshen up. Wash the smell of smoke from his hands. Maybe gargle if he can find mouthwash.
He’s headed to the side door by the garage, the one that leads to the kitchen, when he sees Nellie storming out, her face slick with tears.
What the hell?
“Nellie!” he calls out after her. She’s streaking toward the woods.
She freezes, turns around. Wipes her tears away with the backs of her hands. He can see that her body is still quaking.
Boy trouble?
He strides quickly over, filled with the urge to reach out, hug her.
But he knows she’s feral on a good day, a wild animal that would flinch at such behavior. No, he must tread lightly.
“Hey,” he says softly.
At least he’s gotten her to stop.
Her face is pale, sickly, and haunted, as if she’s seen a ghost.
Even though Nellie is a nightmare, he still feels that protective impulse over her, and, filled with booze, he’d love to land a punch on Luke, Dustin, whoever has broken her heart.
“What?” she says, tossing her hands up around her face, her nails painted a glossy black. “What do you want?”
“Nellie.” He takes another step forward. She doesn’t budge. “I know we’re not exactlyclose, but you know you can tell meanything.” Jackson wishes thathehad someone to talk to right now about all that’s swirling around in his brain. But instead of Nellie feeling the same, she has the opposite reaction.
“You’re right,” she says, a scowl mauling her face, “wearen’tclose.”
She spins on her Keds, then bolts toward the woods.
52
Nellie
As soon as I turn away from Jackson, get out of his sight, tears start rushing again, soaking my cheeks.
