“Emo?” I am in black jeans, boots, and a shirt. It’s easy. I grab a hat and pull it on too. I’m not going to spend ten minutes doing my hair like Grant does. “You drive, pretty boy.” I grab his keys off the table and toss them to him.
“You think I’m pretty?” He smirks. I grab the bottle of Gatorade next to throw at him. He ducks; it slams into the wall.
“Are you ready?” I want to get there already. I check my phone to see if Madeline is in her dorm room, but she’s not. When I took her phone to add my number into it, I quickly shared her location with myself.
“Sorry, I know how you want to be punctual now,” Grant says dryly.
We head out. It doesn’t take long to get anywhere around here. This is true even for houses located outside of town.
“Always this many people?” Grant asks when we pull up outside the house.
“Yes.” I point to where he needs to park. The area is blocked off for the hockey team.
“Do the police often show up at these parties?” I follow Grant’s line of sight and see the guy I laid out heading toward the house.
“Not often.”
“Right,” he mutters, not believing me. It has to get really bad for the cops to show up.
They won’t show up alone either. They’ll drag the dean out of bed too. My brother won’t be happy about that, but he does get everyone to move their asses faster. They are more scared of him than the cops. They aren’t wrong. When he hits his limit, everyone but him backs up. That too is a Locke trait.
Except when my brother or I zero in on a person, it’s with cause. My father did that shit out of pure enjoyment. The older he got, the more obsessed he became with power. That power was all about control.
I pull out my phone as we make our way up the stairs and send a text to Madeline. She still owes me a favor. She doesn’t respond. Not once has she bothered to do so. So I go ahead and text her the video.
Yeah, I pulled that shit up. She’s trying to call my bluff. I have no plans on turning her in, but I do want her attention. Why? I don’t know. Because she pisses me off? No, it’s because she fucks with my head without trying.
Buttercup:Just tell me what you want so we can get this over with, asshole!
Her text makes me smile. Except I don’t have a fucking clue what I want from Madeline Pearson. In fact, I don’t know shit anymore.
Chapter Eleven
MADELINE
“It’s fine,” I try to reassure Georgia as we step out of the car together. I give my sister a small wave before she pulls off. She dropped us off down the street. Might be weird for a teacher to be dropping students off at a party.
She’s worried about Luke and what might be the fallout. I might be too, but I’m keeping that to myself. Georgia doesn’t need to make up more problems in that head of hers.
“He really got the video.” Her eyes bore into my phone. She read my text over my shoulder but didn’t say anything with my sister there. Georgia knows I don’t want Paislee tangled into anything.
I mean, I would have. If I had that access. “It shows he’s willing to go the distance.”
“It’s not funny,” Georgia huffs, but her lips start to twitch on one side. I give her a small elbow to her side.
“Come on. A drink might calm you down.”
“Beer is gross.”
I link my arm through hers. “It is,” I agree. I haven’t drunk much, but I went to parties at my old school. “That’s why you chew Big Red gum while you drink it.” I’ve heard this trick but never tried it.
“Do you have Big Red gum?”
“Nope,” I laugh. “You think he’ll be here tonight?”
“I never come to these, so I don’t know. You never know what Luke Locke is going to do.”
“Besides be an asshole. We can count on that one.” Georgia snorts a laugh. I say hi as I pass by a few people from school. Georgia stays close to me, and I notice no one greets her.
