“If Seamus asks, you’re my girlfriend, okay? Chasm isn’t allowed to have girls in the house.” He pauses and glances over his shoulder, like he expects Chas’ dad—Shaymus, was it?—to make an appearance. Maxx turns back to me. “Or anyone else for that matter. Let’s pretend we just stopped by so the two of you could … work on a project.”
“How about we just tell him that we’re here because of Parrish?” I ask, but the way Maxx looks at me, I can see that won’t hold much weight with Seamus McKenna. How horrible is that? Chasm is as much a member of the Vanguard family as anyone else, but Parrish means so little to Seamus that he won’t accept that as an excuse for his son to have guests?
Before Maxx can even think to answer the question, the door opens and a redheaded man with pale skin and freckles appears. He’s frowning before he even sees us, but then his eyes find mine and he freezes like he’s seen a ghost. He blinks a few times and the expression disappears, but I won’t forget that I saw it anytime soon.
“Maxim,” he says carefully, pausing in the doorway and glancing at his son’s friend. His words hold the slightest hint of an accent. “Is my son home? I received a call from the school that he left class early today.”
Maxx nods his chin respectfully and points at the bathroom where, I assume, Chasm is busy applying topical filler to his piercings and spraying his hair with temporary dye.
“This is my girlfriend, Dakota Banks,” Maxx begins, pointing at me, and I feel this flush of shame at pretending again. First with Tess and now here. I know it’s for a greater good, but I can’t shake the sense that I’m betraying my sister, and I don’t like it. I would quite literally die for that girl. This isn’t right. I resolve to tell her the next time we talk, just so she’s aware of everything that’s going on. “She doesn’t drive, so I brought her over to work on a project. I don’t know anything about Kwang-seon missing class.”
“I see,” Seamus begins, but the way he flicks his eyes my way, I feel like there’s something more to it. Maybe he’s talked to Tess? Maybe he knows that I was missing from school, too? Tess seemed to know that I was with Chasm. I wouldn’t put it past her to call all of my friends’ parents looking for me. Maybe Danyella or Lumen offered up that information to help soften the blow for me? “I hate to be rude, but Kwang-seon and I have plans this evening.”
“Yes, sir,” X agrees politely, moving over to grab my hand. The warmth of his fingers curling around mine isn’t missed, but I do my best to shut those thoughts down. I hate, hate, hate that we have natural chemistry, but there’s no way for me to control that. Like I said, a person cannot control their thoughts, but they have complete and total control over their own actions.
I take Chas’ phone with me, surreptitiously dropping it on a random side table downstairs before we leave. In the car on the way home, I’ll message him on social media and let him know where I stashed it. He’ll get my message on his laptop or PlayStation or whatever else.
Maxx’s Jeep Gladiator is waiting in the driveway. As angry as he is with me, he keeps hold of my hand and escorts me to the passenger side, opening the door so that I can climb in. Swallowing a lump of nervousness, I hop into the passenger seat and sit with my head hanging down. I’m more than aware that I’m wearing Chasm’s clothes.
Not many great explanations for that, are there?
Tess is going to fucking kill me.
“Call her.” Maxx tosses his phone to me, and I catch a glimpse of a message from my sister.
Did you find her? X, I’m panicking. Have her call me.
“Maxine or Tess?” I ask, and he gives me a sharp look.
“Tess. I’ll let Maxie know what’s going on. You scared the crap out of her today, you know that? Parrish is missing; you can’t go missing, too.” He crosses his arms over the steering wheel and rests his chin atop them, mimicking the pose he took that night at the party, the one where I inadvertently ended up ‘dating’ both Lumen and Parrish.
It was only three months ago, but it may as well have been years.
“For what it’s worth, X,” I start, trying and failing to keep my voice neutral, “I’m sorry.” The tears brim then, fat and hot, rolling down my cheeks like waterfalls of grief. They plop against the screen of the phone as I struggle to pull myself together.
He lifts his head up and our eyes meet; there’s a clear softening in his at least.
