Page 87 of Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 4)
“Don’t let it get to you,” Cal warns me, coming up behind me and running his hands up my sides. It was like, as soon as I’d given him permission, he was here by my side, like he’d always been there. Nothing changed except for the fact that I knew he was there. Oscar was pretty much the opposite. “You know how Vic feels.” Callum chuckles. “He wants you all to himself. Last thing he’d do is give you up.”
“I know that,” I tell him, and that’s not a lie. I just … want more.
“Is Cal the only one here?” Aaron asks, staring at me blearily and wearing a pair of pj pants with World of Warcraft characters on them. Makes him seem thirteen instead of seventeen and a half. Like, he’s still an innocent boy and not a man who shot a girl to death for me a few weeks ago.
“Nobody else is here yet,” I tell him as he scoots back and heads into the kitchen. He still has the medical boot on his leg and the cast on his arm, but overall, he looks much better, like he’s finally recovering.
Physically, that is. His emotional state is a bit … all over the place. I still miss him every day like he’s gone, like I’ve got this permanent bit of PTSD to remind me how deep I am into this fucking shit.
“Need to know if I should get the babysitter tonight,” Aaron murmurs sleepily, pausing as the sliding glass door opens and Vic steps in, smelling like smoke. So … he came in the back gate to smoke a cigarette before coming inside.
I stare at him and he stares right back.
“Get the babysitter,” he commands before turning a look on Cal that brings this dark tension to life in the air between them. I would not like to see the two of them fight. It’d be like a hyena versus a crocodile. Fuck if I know which one would win. They’re terrible and awful and, looking at them like this, I can’t goddamn believe my luck.
They’re my lovers now, not my enemies. Not like they made me believe in sophomore year. At least now I know I had every reason and every right to be as afraid as I was. If I’d been anyone else, they probably would’ve just killed me and buried me on Tom’s property.
Anyway, Vic is most definitely looking at Cal like he knows we fucked. He turns back to me.
“What are we doing?” I ask, and Vic sighs, moving closer and handing me an invitation written on some fancy ass paper, the kind they make for fun at the rich elementary school I didn’t go to, the kind they send home with the kids that smells like vanilla and roses, all tied into a fancy journal as a Mother’s Day present. “What the fuck is this?”
“It’s an invitation to a murder mystery party,” Vic says, snorting and swiping his hand over the lower half of his face. “Fucking hell,” he murmurs as I scrunch up my brow and look up at him.
“The fuck is that?” I ask as Aaron makes a sound of annoyance from the direction of the fridge.
“Have you ever seen the fifties movie, The House on Haunted Hill?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“I’ve seen the shitty nineties remake,” I offer, but Aaron just smiles at me.
“It’s like, a live play where everyone at the party is a character. You get a character sheet, and you try to solve the mystery. That is, who at the party is a murderer.” Goose bumps ripple across my skin as I blink stupidly in Aaron’s direction, looking back down at the incredibly cheesy but probably expensive paper invitation. “I mean, the murderer,” Aaron corrects. “In the group. It’s a rich, white people thing.”
“This is fucking dumb,” I tell Vic, letting Callum have the invitation when he grabs for it. “You know that, right? This is just asking for trouble, Victor.”
“How so?” he asks, tucking his inked hands into his pants pockets. “We were invited by Trinity. Guess who else is going to be there?”
“This sounds like fun,” Cal agrees, his smile made of pretty nightmares. When he looks up, it’s obvious he’s on Vic’s side.
“Only because you’re a psychopath,” I tell him, and he laughs. “This isn’t fun. This is trouble not-so-subtly disguised as a party.”
“James Barrasso will be there,” Vic says with a nod as Aaron steps up to the peninsula and leans against it, shirtless and too pretty for the harsh morning light. “I don’t need to tell you what a valuable opportunity this is.”
“You’re going to this thinking it’s the perfect cover to start shit. That’s what everybody else is thinking, too. I don’t like this. What does Oscar think?” I cross my arms over my chest in an attempt to hide the hardened points of my nipples from showing through my borrowed t-shirt. Doesn’t work. All it does is draw more attention from my boys.
