“That’s no excuse for him to act like a complete jackass. Heagreedto screw around with both him and her. I mean, they were allright there.”Cynthia gestures wildly and I shake my head, grinning despite myself at seeing my best friend stick up for me. She gives me alook,and I know she’s thinking about the fact I met those boys the night of a murder.
Something Karter—nor anyone else on campus—knows.
It adds a creep layer to everything and I’m not ready to examine that right now.
“Well,” Karter says quietly, “do you even care?” Her green eyes search mine. “You said you didn’t, and you seem pretty comfortable with whatever he’s doing with Tas. I mean, you left them both together.”
I lift one shoulder in a shrug even as my stomach hardens into knots. “No,” I lie. “I don’t give a fuck what he does.” And although I say it with conviction, I can feel Cynthia’s gaze on mine. Like she knows.
She says I stuff down my emotions.
I always laugh and say I don’t feel any, except toward her.
I’m not so sure it’s a joke. After growing up without a dad, then Mom chose someone else over me and Nolan… maybe I’ve tried to protect myself by being reckless and pretending not to give a shit about anyone or anything except the people I know won’t hurt me.
Like Nolan.
Like Cynthia.
But Sylvan Connor? Absolutely fucking not. He’s too young, too rich, too talented, with too many potential hookups in his future for me to trust him an inch.
Then I think about what he said. Wanting to know if anyone else fucked with me, and how it strangled my heart.
“Tasia can have him,” I force myself to add to Karter, but I don’t meet her gaze when I do. “No bear spray needed.”
THIRTY-FOUR
NEVE
My phone vibrates beside my head while I lay in the dark, teeth brushed, skincare routine done, trying to sleep in my black and white pajama set. But despite the fan on just right, the background noise doing its best to calm my thoughts, I’m still wide awake and staring at the canopy in the dark.
Cynthia and I left Karter’s nearly two hours ago—it’s two in the morning now according to my phone. What am I awake for? An orgasm between two hot hockey players? Slut D isn’t really fitting with that vibe. I need to earn my nickname better.
Mine and Cynthia’s Uber driver told us to be careful when she dropped us off at the bookstore, saying something about all the murders around here.
Cynthia’s gaze had caught mine.
When we walked through Blackwell’s, she told me that Faust seemed like a better choice for me and Sylvan was just a fuck boy. But the problem is, I’m pretty sure I’m the female equivalent.
My phone unlocks with my face and my heart ricochets in my chest as I see Faust has texted me.
33
How do you feel?
A politely blunt question. Very Canadian of him. I consider not replying but I won’t be able to sleep anyway, my social media accounts are dead since I haven’t been posting lately, and besides, I don’t want to scroll through and see endless conspiracy theories on the murders at Drayton.
Faust, I tell myself, is a good distraction.
I feel like you should be asleep.
He texts me back immediately and butterflies flap their wings in my low belly.
But shouldn’t he be asleep, like, really? He has a game tomorrow. Yeah. Maybe I checked the schedule.
33
If you were here, I would be.
