Page 305 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

“Then they’ll be ready in one-minute twenty-five,” Marigold says.

I roll my eyes again, and start clearing up some of the mess on the countertop. “What’s all of this for?”

“The church has a fundraiser tomorrow.” Marigold looks around and points at a lined baking tray. I bring it over to her, and her eyes dart up to mine before she starts spooning batter on the tray. “We’ll be selling these.”

We?

No, good God, say it ain’t so.

“You know I have finals coming up, right?”

Marigold snorts. “You can’t offer up a few hours of your time for God?”

I blink at her, caught off guard. I never knew Mom to be religious, and she’d never mentioned anything about Marigold’s affiliations either. Then again, she’d only ever mentioned grandmother in passing.

“I didn’t know you…went to church,” I finish weakly.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, young lady.” Behind us, the timer goes off. “Now get those out of the oven before they burn.”

Shortbread, pound cake,andsnickerdoodles?

So much for the damn party—I’ll be lucky if I get out of this kitchen before midnight.

Briar

I stare at my reflection, frowning critically at the fit of my black tuxedo. It’s a bit tighter in the arms than I’d like—I last wore this a year ago, and I’ve been bulking up my biceps since then—but I doubt I’ll be keeping my jacket on for long. One thing about Dylan’s parties? They might all start out as black-tie events, but by the end of the night they usually devolve into wet t-shirt competitions.

I’ve combed my hair back, but I’m not sure I like the city-slicker look it gives me. I tilt up my chin and adjust my bow tie.

My phone rings, and I answer it with a terse, “Hello?” without checking who’s calling.

“Hey, man, you wanna take one car to Dylan’s?”

I open my mouth to accept, but then I hesitate. I plan on bringing Indi home with me, and it’s gonna be hella awkward if Marcus is hitching a ride.

“Actually, go on ahead. I have a few things to do before I pull through.”

“Sure? I don’t mind making some stops.”

“Yeah, I’ll just meet you there.”

Marcus is quiet for a second. “Okay, sure.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. He doesn’t sound happy. He also sounds as if he started the party early. It’s an unspoken agreement—at these types of parties, only one of us drinks. Since the thing with Jess, it’s almost always been him doing the drinking. I’d have thought common sense…

“Hey, you’ll be keeping an eye on me, right?” I say through a laugh. “Make sure I don’t get too wasted?”

Marcus laughs too, and I realize I was imagining things when he says, “Dude, of course. This is my last drink for the night.”

I end the call with a smile, and turn back to the mirror. I guess it’s good for Indi to see me all cleaned up and shit. Maybe she’ll start to realize she’s not dealing with some high school kid anymore, but a man.

Because fuck, I definitely don’t look like a kid tonight.

There’s a parking spot open beside Marcus’s SUV—my usual spot. I guide my Mustang into the bay and turn off the ignition, taking a few seconds to soak everything in. Dylan’s glass and limestone mansion is almost a mile away from Addy’s house. It sits on a small rise looking out on most of the eighteen-hole golf course in the middle of the estate.

There are a ton of cars parked out here. I know Dylan has to jump through hoops every time he has one these shindigs just to get the golf course to accept this amount of strangers inside its boomed-off premises, but he gets it right every time.

I adjust my tie, run my hands through my combed-back hair, and head for the front door. One of the guys from our football team stands nearby, a clipboard in his hand. There’s a line of kids waiting to get in, but I ignore them as I head straight for the door,

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