Cortland laughs, dropping his hand and hauling me over to his side. “You do lots of things, baby. Go to the library. Read weird books. Let my roommate stare at you. Give good head.”
I elbow him and he laughs, his arm tightening around me. “Seriously,” I tell him, “I want to go with you, but I have no good excuse.”
He reaches into the pocket of my hoodie and pulls out my phone, holding it in front of my face. “Text her,” he says simply. “You don’t want to lie to her face. Text her that you’ll be in the library a few hours.” He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. But that’s because Storm knows. He doesn’t have to twist anything.
And why is that?
Shouldn’t Storm hate me, too?
But he doesn’t. That first day, he was aggressive and an asshole just like Cort. But as Cort’s attitude shifted, so did Storm’s. Maybe that’s what friendship is.
Having each other’s backs even if you’re about to jump off of a cliff.
But I don’t want that for Sloane. She’s had her own struggles in her life centering around her parents and their constant arguments. Her house was far happier than mine, but that doesn’t mean it was perfect. And she’s had a struggle in being my friend this past year. Being a victim doesn’t just traumatize you. It affects everyone around you.
If they decide to stay.
And she did. She never left me.
But Cortland... I don’t want to leave him yet, either.
I take the phone from his hand and he smiles down at me.
I open up a text to my best friend and I lie to her, wondering just how long I’ll be able to claim that title in her life.
CHAPTER
FORTY-SIX
REMI
I watchhim pop the top from a beer, wearing a red flannel and dark blue jeans. He stares at the fire for a moment, the tent at his back—all done without my help—then walks around the pit before he sits beside me on the Mexican blanket, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
I rest my head against him, knees to my chest, my thumbs through the little thumb holes on my hoodie. I’m back to them again, but for a different reason than before.
It’s cold out here, October now.
My stomach twists into knots as I think of meeting with Silas, but I push it aside. I’m already skipping class, lying to Sloane, fucking up, I might as well let it all go for the night.
The fire pops, but we’re far enough away it doesn’t matter. The heat is delicious though, and the flames are mesmerizing. I inhale the scent of the woods, the fire,Cortlandat my side.
He pulled his truck into the site too, and it’s at our backs.
Not far from Ely, the campground is one I’ve never been to, and on a Tuesday night, we don’t have any neighbors in either lot beside us.
I glance at the stars overhead and think about the detectives asking me about my view that night. If I saw any then.
I was stunned with that question. With most of them. But I didn’t see the stars that night for the simple fact that all I really saw was Cortland’s eyes holding mine.
He kisses the top of my head, offers me a drink from his can of beer. But there’s other alcohol in the cooler by the tent, and besides that, I don’t want to drink tonight.
“No, thank you,” I murmur, and he finishes it off, then tosses it into the fire where it starts to melt.
“So polite,” he says with a smile as I turn to look up at him. The flames dance in his granite eyes, and they look nearly silver in this light.
“Is that a problem?” I counter, smirking at him.
He arches a brow, his legs stretched out in front of him, arm still around me, other hand planted on the blanket. “I don’t know,” he muses. “I kind of like when you’re a brat too.”