Iwasn’t panicking. Which, apparently, made me a sociopath according to three different group chats and at least one very dramatic voice memo from Jake. Not that he was the best source, considering his recent decisions.
Coop was spiraling, Bubba was still deep in the “denial and rage” stage—to be fair, this was a new one for me, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him lose it—, and Jake kept threatening to expose Sharon’s“true manipulative demonic essence”with all the tact of a blunt sledgehammer.
Demonic essence… the hyperbole appealed to me.
As for me?
I was drinking espresso and reading the latest Edge magazine that covered gaming trends, art, and engineering.
Jeremy brought it in exactly how I liked it—hot, strong, and with a couple of danishes on the side, because he knew how to soften a blow before it landed. Especially since he hadn’t brought me breakfast in my game room or bedroom since I turned twelve.
As it was, he’d set the tray down then waited until I looked up. With a sigh, I set the mug down and met his gaze. Unlike myfeelings where my parents were concerned, I actually did give a shit about what Jeremy thought.
“You’ve created quite the scandal.” Disapproval threaded through the words.
I raised an eyebrow. “Ididn’t leak the videos.”
“No,” he agreed smoothly, adjusting the cuff of his perfectly ironed shirt. “But you’re in them. Shirtless. Smirking. Participating.”
“Sounds like summer.” It wasn’t defensive.
Much.
Jeremy’s eyes narrowed. That subtle, almost-British disapproval thing he did better than any headmaster or judge.
“I’ve seen you be reckless before,” he said. “But I’ve never seen you bestupid.”
That stung more than I wanted to admit. I leaned back on the sofa, fingers tapping against my knee. “It’ll blow over. It always does.”
Jeremy stepped closer, arms folded. “Eventually. But reputations don’t blow over, Archibald.”
Ouch. I am in the shit if he’s using my full name. Without even the affectionate mister in front of it.
“Theycalcify,” he continued. “They stick to you like mold. And while you may not care now, that name you’re dragging through the mud? It’s going to be on every college application. Every interview. Every article if you keep running with those boys like you’re trying to make TMZ’s underage party list.”
A muscle twitched in my jaw. “This isn’t new. I’ve done worse. You know it.”
Jeremy didn’t flinch. He just stared at me. Calm. Steady. Disappointed.
Ihatedthat look. Especially on him.
Especiallyfromhim.
“That’s why it’s worse this time,” he said quietly. “Because youdoknow better. Because you’re not fourteen anymore. Because there are people connected to you now—people whodon’tget the same kind of forgiveness.”
I frowned, gaze narrowing. “What people?”
“Miss Frankie,” he said, like the name was a slap I deserved.
I said nothing.
“She’s already in the blast radius of whatever this is,” Jeremy continued. “Her face might not be in the videos, but people talk. They assume. You don’t live in a bubble. You can’t burn your own house down without setting the neighborhood on fire.”
I looked away, jaw tight. I didn’t need him to tell me. I already knew. Even if the metaphor didn’t quite apply here, our house could burn to the ground and our neighbors would be able to watch from a safe distance while sipping wine.
Not that it excused anything.
Frankie hadn’t answered anyone’s texts. Not mine. Not Coop’s. Not Jake’s. Not even Bubba’s, and he’d resorted to sending her cat memes and gifs of sad pandas.
