Page 99 of Runaways

"Hi, Silas. I like the glasses."

"Thanks. I stole them from a department store optician's display; I have them in blue, too. You like blue, don't you, baby?"

"Okay,you—" Tate says, pointing at Silas. "Stop being cute. Do you want a drink, Noah?" He slides a shot of whiskey in my direction.

"Not really."

I don't tell him I stopped drinking whiskey because it reminds me of him. Over the past year, just the scent alone has been enough to send me spiraling. I'd smell whiskey and suddenly, I'm transported back to that night at the carnival, licking it from Tate's lips while my entire world collapses around me.

"Sorry—I phrased that wrong. I made you think it was a question, and it wasn't," Tate says. "Take the fucking shot, Noah."

"I lost my job today," I tell him before throwing it back and slamming the shot glass down on the table. "The cops came. I could have been arrested." I look at Silas. "Did you know about this?"

Silas shrugs. "Yeah."

Wait a second; he was cute, and I almost forgot…

"Youput my birth control in the toilet. I don't have any money."

Beside me, Tate laughs.

"It's not funny!"

"Lilah?"

Mason stands at the end of the table with a beer in his hand. His eyes are red, like he's been drinking for a while.

Or like he's been crying.

"Hi, Mason."

He looks from Tate to me. "Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine—"

"Well, who are they?"

"I…don't know."

It's a terrible answer, but I don't really have a better one.

"Maybe we're her brothers," Tate says, draping his arm around my shoulders.

"Lilah doesn't have any siblings," Mason says, his eyes fixed on that arm draped around me.

"Maybe you should mind your own business and fuck off," Silas says. "She doesn't like you."

"Si—" I start before Tate kicks my bad ankle under the table. I clench my teeth to keep from crying out. "I'm sorry, Mason," I say instead. "He's just…not friendly."

"Well, that's one way to put it," Tate says.

"Are yousureyou're okay?" he asks again.

"Oh, my god, she'sfine," Tate says. "We get it—you're a fucking hero. But this girl right here? She's no fucking princess, okay? You can't save her."

"We just have some things to talk about," I tell him. "I'm fine, I promise."

Mason narrows his eyes, searching my own for the truth behind the lie. But the reality is Mason's never been that good at reading me; if he was, then he'd already know that what Tate said was true.

---