“A bit,” Wilder snorts, appearing out of nowhere. “It’s double the size, but I’m reliably informed it’s what you do with it that counts.”
“Someone’s feeling anxious about their dorm room.”
“You live at the school?” Evie asks. “That must be so cool.”
“Yeah. It’s always been my dream to live in a shoebox and eat with dozens of other teenagers every day.”
“Don’t listen to him,” I tell her, taking careful note of her interest. “He bitched and moaned until his parents put him up there. He loves it really.”
Wilder rolls his eyes. “Sure. I especially love it when your boytoy crashes there for the night.”
“Get away from me, you fucking freak,” a girl shouts, walking by at double speed with Zane trailing behind her, changing direction when he sees us.
“Nice to see you haven’t lost your touch.”
Zane ignores Wilder’s jibe, taking the seat on Evie’s other side, nudging her with his shoulder. “You’re a long way from home.”
“Should I be worried you know where my girlfriend lives?”
“If it keeps you happy, knock yourself out.” He frowns over at the increasingly loud garage. “Is it just me or are these parties getting lamer every year?”
“They were always lame,” I agree. “If you want a drink, it’s easier to go to the pub.”
Wilder snorts with amusement. “And when’s the last time you did that?”
Evie puts a hand on my knee. “That makes his point better, not worse. What do you like about the party?”
He drains the last of his cup, staring at the base in confusion, like he thought it would magically refill itself. Then a cute brunette from our shared English class wanders over, obviously having kept tabs on him because she has a replacement cup for him in her hand. “Why, thank you, sweetie. What’s your name?”
“Dawn,” she says and giggles.
“And do you have a safe word, Dawn?”
Evie bristles so hard I expect spikes to pop from her skin. “You could use the word Dahlia. That’s a good one.”
Zane bursts into laughter and doesn’t stop even when Wilder tackles him to the ground, rolling around, leaving deep divots in the beautifully manicured lawn.
The brunette blinks but since nobody’s paying attention, she soon sashays back to the main party, immediately getting drawn into the game of pool. Potentially as one of the prizes.
I hug Evie, loving the softness of her skin, the gentleness of her smile, the fierce defence of her friend contained in those few, viciously pointed words.
Behind us, Wilder and Zane give up, falling onto their backs, puffing with exertion. “Are you from here originally, Evie?”
“Yeah,” she says, swinging sideways on the seat to see him better. “I moved out of the district for a few years while in foster care but moved back in with my brother.”
“What happened to your parents?”
I feel her stiffen and think she won’t answer, then she releases the tension with a shrug. “They were in a car accident. Mum died and Dad was badly injured. He wasn’t in a fit state to look after me most of the time, so I went in and out of care, then he died just after I turned fourteen.”
“Sorry,” he says. “That’s rough. Don’t know if Mads caught you up to speed, but my mum died of cancer a few years back, not long before…”
He trails off, eyes widening in apology as he glances at me. Even Wilder is aware enough to look mildly worried for a change and I rush to fill the pause with another painful shared truth. “My mum died, too, but I don’t remember her. She had depression for years after I was born, and nobody realised how bad it was until it was too late.”
Evie softens as she bends further towards me. “She killed herself?”
“Yeah. She took a handful of pills, then wandered into the river with rocks in her pockets in case it didn’t work.”
“Christ,” Wilder says, looking absolutely appalled. “I know I said the party sucked before but this pity-party legitimately sucks a thousand times harder.”
