Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“So you were driving,” I say. “But Silas…”
“The football field was wet,” Lawson says by way of an explanation. “I spun out doing a bit of art landscaping and collided with the goalpost. We heard the sirens almost immediately.”
“And he took the rap.”
Lawson props himself up on both elbows. “I didn’t ask him to do it. One of the officers asked who was driving, and Silas just blurted out it was him before I could even answer. He was being a good friend. We both knew where I was headed if the cops found out it was me behind the wheel. Silas, on the other hand, was squeaky clean.”
“He got expelled and ended up here,” I mutter, more to myself. “No offense, but that makes a lot of sense now. I never understood how someone like him ended up at Sandover.”
“Yep. His only crime was the great misfortune of befriending me.”
“That’s not true at all.”
“I was there. I fucked his whole life.”
Lawson tries to put on that nonchalant mask of his, but not very successfully. It doesn’t do much at all to disguise the sincere sadness in his gray eyes. He’s in pain—an emotion I’m not sure anyone in his circle thinks him capable of feeling. Lawson’s got a reputation for being a good time boy. Perpetually on. His blood replaced with bourbon and Percocet.
Sometimes I think they forget he’s a person.
“Listen to me,” I say, waiting until he reluctantly meets my gaze. “You didn’t ask him to lie to the police. Silas made a choice because protecting you was important to him. He can’t turn around and hold you hostage for that. For guys like him, there are always going to be opportunities. He’ll go to a good college, swim, maybe take a shot at the Olympics one day. But it’s entirely up to him how everything turns out. You’re not holding him back and his life isn’t ruined. He’s responsible for his latest meltdowns. Trying to make you the scapegoat doesn’t change that.”
“Nah. He was right about one thing,” Lawson mumbles, sitting up. “I am a fuckup.”
“Hey.” I grab a fistful of his shirt and shake him a little. “You’re not a fuckup. You’ve just exercised some poor judgment. And you can decide to change that any time you want. It’s not a permanent state of being. Okay?”
His lips twitch. “If I say no, are you going to shake me again?”
I respond with a threatening glare. “Don’t test me, Kent. You’re not ready for this smoke.”
He cracks a sincere smile, which gives me a greater sense of accomplishment than I’ve felt for a while.
“You probably shouldn’t be so nice to me,” he warns. “I’m sort of a bad influence.”
“Well, I like being nice to you. And maybe I think I’m a good influence.”
He chuckles. “I’ll take that bet.”
We fall silent for a moment. I watch the shadows cast by the lantern against the dirt-streaked glass panes. From the corner of my eye, I feel him watching me.
“I have a confession to make,” I say, turning toward him. “I asked you to meet up because I was pissed at Fenn and wanted you to take my mind off him.”
Lawson shrugs. “I know.”
“What I’m saying is, though, I like hanging out with you, and I’m having a good time. So thank you.”
“Come here.” He scoots closer and throws an arm around my shoulders, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “You’re a cool chick, Casey. And you deserve good things.”
Lawson presses a kiss to the top of my head. When I look at him, I’m overwhelmed by some inexplicable sensation. A strange thought seems to emerge from the ether and strike us both unprepared. Lawson leans in. I tilt my chin up. And our lips meet.
CHAPTER 40
RJ
I MUST LOVE THIS GIRL. AFTER SLOANE HYPNOTIZES ME INTO agreeing to be her human fly trap, I sprint back to the dorm to change clothes for the party and grab my wallet. At this rate I can start skipping the gym with all the laps I’ve run across this campus lately.
When I get back to our room, Fenn is still in bed. Headphones on, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. The guy’s been in a perpetual state of existential crisis for the better part of the semester.
“You heading out?” He pulls one headphone off, watching me grab some fresh clothes out of my closet.
“Yes. Got a thing I have to do. I’ll be back in a bit.”
I strip out of my shirt and into a black tee Sloane says is her favorite. Figure that’s good enough for a Ballard party. I’m not about to put too much thought into this and somehow wind up getting myself in trouble.
“Have fun, I guess.”
“You okay, man?” I ask.
“Fine,” is the terse reply. “Just had a shit day.”