Page 78 of Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 4)
“I’m not saying we have to make a decision now,” he continues, reaching out to take my hand with his good one. As I stare back at him, it finally hits me: if Aaron hadn’t saved himself, would I be dead? How close were the other boys? Did they let Aaron have that moment? It seemed like they were just minutes behind him, but was that minutes too late?
“Would I have died?” I ask as he blinks at me, and then turns away. When Aaron withdraws his hand from mine and slides it over his face, I feel like I already have my answer. “Did Kali almost best us?”
“No,” Aaron says with a small shake of his head, glancing back at me with his beautiful mouth pursed slightly. “You did.”
We just stare at each other for a moment as those words sink in.
But he’s right, isn’t he?
It isn’t Havoc that’s fucking up: it’s me.
And I’m supposed to be the queen.
I stand up from the couch and Aaron lets me go, taking over babysitting duty so I can step outside to have a cigarette.
“I can’t believe we have to go back to school in a few days,” a dark voice says from above me. I pause and step out onto the lawn, turning around to find Callum on the roof. He’s sitting on the edge, legs hanging over the side. He’s got a cigarette in his hand, and he smiles at me as I raise a brow in his direction. I have no idea how he got up there; he hasn’t been home all day. Neither Aaron nor I saw him come into the house. “That’s why I’m chain-smoking,” he explains, lifting up a nearly full ashtray in explanation. “Because I hate math.”
“That’s why, huh?” I ask, and he nods, putting out his cigarette and then leaping down from the fucking roof like it’s nothing. Cal lands in a crouch on the grass and then stands up in a stretch, lifting his arms above his head. His hoodie lifts up just enough that I can see a bit of his flat tummy. My own belly stirs with desire, and I place a palm over it. “I’m smoking because it just occurred to me that if Aaron hadn’t saved his own life, I might be dead.”
Callum just stares at me for a moment and then tucks his hands into his hoodie pocket.
“Mm,” he says, walking in a circle around me for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. I had a clear shot.” Cal pauses next to me, looking down at me with those beautiful blue eyes of his. He isn’t smiling anymore. “But it was close. Too close, Bernie.”
“Aaron says it wasn’t Kali who almost got one-up on us,” I start, choking on the words. For the first time ever, it’s occurred to me that maybe I don’t belong here. Maybe, as Oscar keeps saying, I’m the crack in the perfection that is Havoc. “It was me.”
Cal considers this a moment, reaching over to steal my cigarette. He takes a drag while he thinks about my words.
“You should follow Vic’s orders,” he concedes after several minutes of silence. That’s an interesting thing to note, how long Callum actually thinks before he speaks. That’s a rare fucking trait right there. “And you should really stop punishing yourself.” He hands what’s left of the cigarette back as I try to blink away Kali’s image, standing in the corner of the yard and sneering at me. That’s what she is, a punishment. A dark gift to myself.
“You have dirt under your nails,” I say instead. It’d be almost impossible for anyone else to notice; nobody gets this close to Cal in public. Besides, they’re painted blue, as always. But I can see it, with him standing just inches away from me.
“So I do,” he remarks, checking his fingernails and then lifting his eyes to mine. “Sorry, I spent the afternoon digging.”
“For Oscar’s informant?” I ask, because I didn’t miss the single speck of blood on the white of Oscar’s button-down last night. He most definitely killed somebody yesterday. And yet, when faced with one of my worst enemies, I hesitated.
Callum nods briefly, and then smiles again, reaching out a hand and putting it on the top of my head. When Victor does that, it feels patronizing. Somehow, it’s okay when Cal does it.
“Yep. One of our girls is fucking an officer in the GMP.” Cal stops for a second and frowns. “Was, I mean. She was fucking him.” He pats me on the head and then drops his hand to his side. “Her information was good though. Really good. The GMP is actively attempting to move into our turf.”
“What does any of that have to do with Ophelia and Trinity?” I ask, choking on that bitch’s name as it slithers out of my mouth. Trinity Jade. Jesus Christ, what a pretentious fucking name.
