Page 125 of Pretty Little Lies

Reeve and my sisters come back shortly after, and the man that claims to want more sits at my side, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle ice cream for him and a Bubbles from the Powerpuff Girls for me.

“They still make those?”

Reeve shrugs, opening mine up. “Yeah…God knows how old they are, though.”

I laugh. “Ew.” The giggles of my sisters fill my ears and my heart warms. All of this—Levi and I making a huge stink over our fake relationship, running every time Emilio wants to see me, and risking my sanity over these boys, make it worth it. The demise of my sperm donor will make them safe. It’ll create Levi a path to freely expand and bring up South Shore.

My ice cream is offered to me from Reeve’s hand and my eyes flick to his. “Are you gonna let me out of here?”

“I can…” His hazels remain locked on to me. “For a price.”

“You and buying me out of shit.”

He shakes his head. “Just info.”

“What kind?”

“Things about you. You answer, I remove sand.”

I sigh. “Like what?”

“What’s your favorite color, for example.”

“Purple.” My Bubbles ice cream is brought to my lips for me to suck on and it feels amazing off the hot sun. “What’s yours?”

“Red. Favorite food.”

“Crab.” I look up at him for his answer, and he promptly gives it to me.

“Same.”

“Really?” He bobs his head, still holding out my ice cream and working on his, looking like a little kid and staring down at it intently. “What’s your favorite dessert?”

“Besides you?” He smirks, knowing he’s going to be met by my exasperated look, but spares me wih the words that follow. “I dunno…never got much as a kid.”

“Why? Your parents big on sugar?”

“Nah, my mother’s just a huge cunt.” I frown. As sweet and lovable as Reeve is, it’s hard for me imagine a woman being what he just said to him. I know his father is missing, and he hasn’t spoken much about it since he came to see me in South Shore that night. “We didn’t really celebrate much together unless it was for one of my mother’s parties or something.”

“And you didn’t steal anything from the tables or?—”

“No.” Reeve shoves the edge of his ice cream into his mouth, alluding that he doesn’t want to talk about his past anymore, using his newly free hand to remove some of the sand from my arms.

“You like the Raiders?” I fixate on his backwards hat, desperate to find another topic of conversation. No matter how lame it is. “Ever been to a game?”

“Raiders game?” he mutters through a full mouth before shaking his head for the answer.

“Wanna go?”

He pulls his ice cream from his lips and heaves a brow. “With you?”

“Vegas isn’t in my future anytime soon.”

“It could be. You like football?”

“It’s okay. Dad watches it a lot.”

“What’s his favorite team?”

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