Page 19 of Pretty Little Lies

SEVEN

bay

I hate house music.

And that’s all this club is playing as Levi drags me along with him through the thick throng of people drinking and dancing.

The purple neons hue the ambiance of the large space, but it doesn’t lift my mood. Levi has barely spoken to me since we had our conversation in the garage and tonight is our one out as being a fake couple.

It’s both insulting, in a way, and more depressing than if he had just stayed mad at me. I can’t shake off the feeling that he’s using me for, not only his gain, but South Shore’s.

It’s what I should want.

What I do want.

But it’s the way everything came about—through a fight and my betrayal of not coming clean—that makes me feel inadequate to be Levi’s girlfriend.

My bad, fake girlfriend.

He’s selling tonight, but he knows the boys are going to be here. It’s for a birthday party of someone, but I didn’t listen to the rest of the details.

The average time for a container ship to make it to Mexico is two to six weeks. That’s all my brain has been able to focuson. I thought it’d be a couple of fucking days, and now I’ve been thinking about food, water, and if Reeve is yelling for help. That he’s stuck between metal containers that the crew would have to maneuver around to get him out.

If they hear him.

The last three days have been a slow torture. Each one that passes by is a reminder that I didn’t save him. That I haven’t reached out to Torin or Cairo in any way, shape, or form to somehow get to him.

I still want to be loyal to Levi.

But at what cost?

I’ll have to spend the rest of my life knowing that I’m just as guilty as my best friend with his death. Because, even if he does live, his chances of making it back home are slim to none with zero cash and contacts.

Tack on that I’ve been Googling shit that only makes everything worse and you have me.

He’s not dead.

He won’t die.

He just can’t.

“What do you want to drink?” Levi’s voice drapes over me like a protective blanket. It tries to conceal the truth and what he’s done but, in my chest, I can still feel Reeve.

He’d never give up.

He’s too good to die.

“Jack Daniels,” I deadpan, staring at two blondes who are dancing together and having the time of their lives. They both have on sequined-covered dresses that make them sparkle and shine through the random flashes of strobe lights and underneath the purple glow.

Levi steps out in front of me then, a solid black shirt stretching over his hard torso and chest while forcing me to acknowledge him.

I don’t.

We never really did conclude what happened between us and it still lingers in the air like it never left or got slaughtered.

“That’s a little much, don’t ya think?”

My scowl is immediately painted on my face as I peer up at him, meeting those light green eyes. “No.”

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