Page 24 of You Belong With Me

As we take off toward Rush House, I see Christian glance at me from the corner of my eye. “You good?”

I swallow. “Don’t I look like I’m good?”

“No, actually. That’s why I’m asking.”

I just shake my head as I look out the window, watching the green hills pass us by. “It’s complicated.”

“Well, it’s clear you didn’t want to go back to your place with Gabriel.”

I glance at him abruptly, surprised that he picked up on that. I suspected Gabriel would, but he picks up on everything—even shit that’s imaginary. I didn’t realize my avoiding him was so obvious to everyone else. “Why do you say that?”

He flashes me a smile.Ugh,he’s so pretty. Fucking hell. “We both know there’s no prep needed for an unofficial society party.”

I blow out a breath and tilt my head back against the headrest. “That’s the only thing I could come up with on the spot.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Fuck, if you know I was lying, then Gabrieldefinitelyknows, and he’ll be pissed once he gets me alone.”

Honestly, I don’t know how long I can do this with Gabriel. I’ll have to break up with him all over again, which is going to look really shitty when he’s only been home foroneday.

We’re stopped at a red light, and Christian has his arm slung over the steering wheel when he turns his head to look at me. “Look, why don’t we stop by the party supply place, and pick up some ‘welcome home’ shit? We can put it up, andboom, there you go. Your little lie isn’t a lie anymore.”

I slide a glance at him. “Why are you helping me?”

It’s not that I ever got the feeling that Christian hated me or anything. He was always just kinda…neutral. Like, he didn’tthink about me one way or another. So why step in and help me now?

The light turns green, and he turns his attention back to the road. “Listen, I know there’s something going on with you and my brother. He’s a shit liar, and when he made you his consort the other night, it pretty much confirmed my suspicions.”

“Which are?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “He’s into you.”

I shake my head at that, thinking back to last night. The way he demanded I suck him off, then got angry and left. “That might be true,” I concede. “But he hates himself for it.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Just promise me something…”

“What?”

“He’s going to try pushing you away.” Christian glances at me. “Don’t let him.”

Lucas is such a force, I don’t know if I could stop him from doing anything. And yet, I find myself nodding, anyway….

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Wyn

Christianand I end up getting a trunk-load of decorations. We even stopped at a bakery to grab a cake. Several members are milling around when we drive up to Rush House, and they help us bring everything into the kitchen.

Christian pulls his phone out and looks at the time. “I gotta run, but I’ll grab a few people to help you set up. You have about two hours until the party starts.”

“Thank you for your help,” I say, grabbing one of the bags of decorations, so I can start sorting things. “I appreciate it.”

He flashes me that devastating smile that’s identical to his brother’s. “You got it, but remember…” He points at me as he walks backward out of the room. “I’m counting on you. Don’t take any of that martyr bullshit…”

I laugh and get straight to work. A couple of girls are sitting around the breakfast table, and they jump up to help me. We focus on decorating the entryway, and living room. By the time we’re done, the living room looks like a party supply store threw-up all over the walls.

A huge “Welcome Home” sign hangs over the couch, and multi-colored streamers dangle from the walls and ceiling at every angle, along with two dozen balloons. Christian thought a helium tank could be “useful for all sorts of things,” so he bought three. I don’t even want to know what “other uses” he could have for a helium tank. I’ve learned it’s best not to ask.

When we’re done, we have about twenty minutes left until the party officially starts, and people are already starting to arrive. I run to the kitchen to throw away all of the bags and packaging, then get myself a much-needed drink.

Thankfully, someone already brought in all the booze from the garage and set up the makeshift bar on the kitchen island. I grab a red solo cup and pour a healthy amount of cinnamon whiskey into it.

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