Page 32 of Runaways

I snort. "What?"

Brielle scowls. "Honestly, Charlie, I made an exception for you and let you invite a friend, which I never do, but if he's going to be disrespectful, you'll both need to leave."

I throw my hands up innocently. "I'll be good."

"Everything we have is inside behind the bar," she says, narrowing her eyes.

"Great," I say. "Thanks."

I let Charlie put an arm around me and steer me toward the house.

"God, I'm so sorry about that," he says once we're out of earshot. He smiles and opens the door for me like this is a real fucking date or something.

But I guess he thinks it is, doesn't he?

"It's fine," I tell him, stepping back inside the house.

"I know how bad that all sounded, but I swear, Kendall isn't a bitch. I feel terrible about what happened, but like…shewasa crazy stalker. It looks like we have…rum, vodka, and gin."

Gritting my teeth, I reply, "Gin."

"Okay, and for mixers…we also only have clear or pale drinks."

"Just hand me the bottle. And how do you know she was a crazy stalker?"

He slides the bottle toward me and then pours himself a vodka with pineapple juice.

"Well, Zach is one of my best friends. We play baseball together, so I saw him almost every day all last spring, and just the sheer amount of messages and photos she sent to Kendall…and, I mean, there were thousands of messages and hundreds of photos…it would have been impossible for him to have been that involved with someone else and none of us even knew about it."

"So, where did it all come from?"

"They're fakes," he says confidently. "I'm a photographer, and I can tell they're all edits. I told Kendall I could tell; it's obvious if you know what to look for."

"Oh, I get it," I say. "So, if you're his best friend, you know whether or not he owns the clothing in the pictures or whether or not they were taken at his home or in his car. Because a photo generator wouldn't know what those things looked like."

"Well, no…" he starts. "I mean, yeah. But I didn't even need to look at it like that; there were other clues. And she was always the only one on camera in the videos."

"Got it," I say, taking a swig from the bottle.

Silas enters the room through the side door, pausing for only a second when he spots us. But Silas is always calm, collected. His surprise at not finding the house empty would only be evident to someone who really knows him.

"Um…hi," Charlie says. "Who are you looking for?"

"That's actually a friend of mine," I answer before Silas can.

"Oh…I didn't realize you were bringing someone," he says, looking Silas up and down. Unlike Silas, Charlie is easy to read. He's insecure, which made this whole thing a lot easier for me to do, and he's wondering if Silas and I are just friends.

"I'm Silas," he says, taking a seat beside me at the bar.

"Charlie." Annoyed, he turns to me and says, "Can I talk to you in private for a minute?"

I smile. This is going to be easier than I thought. "Sure."

"Um, feel free to make yourself a drink," he tells Silas as he steps out from behind the bar.

But his tone says,Don't fucking touch anything, asshole.

I follow Charlie into a downstairs bedroom and close the door behind me.

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