Page 128 of Pretty Little Lies

“Will you come with me to a party?”

“What party?”

“Cairo’s. It’s his birthday and we’re throwing him a surprise party. He’s gonna fucking hate it.”

“He hates me.”

“He doesn’t, baby. He just is in the same boat as the rest of us. Trust is a hard thing to come by.”

“What time does it start?”

“Nine. And show up when you can. I know you got the girls and stuff. I can pick you up if you need?—”

“I got it,” I reply. “It’s not a date.”

“Fuck no, that’s stupid. When I take you on one, though, it’ll be epic as fuck.”

“Let me guess…it includes fucking.”

“Head,” he shares placidly. “And food. And dancing…and sitting on the beach in complete silence to look up at the stars and just be.”Shit sounds nice.“You like all four, McQueen?”

I nod. “Yeah…it all sounds…perfect.”

Reeve helps me sit up, my body pushing away sand as Reeve’s mouth falls to mine in a soft and sweet kiss.

His tongue licks at my mouth, tasting the frozen treat, but he doesn’t drive between my lips like I desperately want him to.

This guy…has me fantasizing like a thirteen-year-old girl.

“You know I like you, right? That I haven’t fucked another girl since I met you.”

Geezus Christ, please tell me that’s not true.

The more he talks, the more I like this dude. That I want to take this a step further and fuck the rest.

“Get confident with it, baby. Because I see you and me and it’s going to be bomb as fuck.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Vibes.” He kisses me again. “Energy.” Another kiss. “And I like the way you look at me sometimes when I’m not talking about shoving my cock inside you.”

A small smile graces my lips. “You say it like it’s normal, like we’ve been doing it for years.”

Reeve chuckles. “Oh, baby, wearegoing to be doing it for years. I got you on that.”

Mae’s excitement of more seashells breaks through our kiss, and Reeve turns his head to look at my youngest sister with a smile so effortless that it can’t be faked.

Reeve is in this.

And I’m…deathly terrified.

THIRTY-SEVEN

bay

“You’ve gotta be fucking kiddingme,” Nessa grinds out, slamming the chip-painted door to my Chevy Caprice and scanning the overly pretentious mansion with floor-to-ceiling windows wrapping around the house. Sitting on top of a steeped hill, it overlooks the oceanfront like a fortress, searching out any enemy who might try to sneak up and attack the place. “Is this even real?”

My eyes follow cement stairs leading the way up, with men and women dressed in casual and fancy attire scattered every which way, red Solo cups and something to smoke between their fingers above, and my pulse races.

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