Page 6 of We Are the Stars

2

Elliott

“What the hellis wrong with you!” I seethe. “Do you even know if that’s true, or are you merely spouting off random crap you’ve heard?”

“I… I…” he fumbles, caught in his misstep.

I slam my hand down on the table. “Dammit, Jase!” Shaking my head at him, I say, “I thought you were better than that.”

“I am!”

“It doesn’t seem that way to me.”

I fish around in the purse I always keep strapped around my torso until I find my small wallet. I throw down enough cash to cover the meal I never received and a good tip for my best friend being an asshole, then grab my basket full of laundry and make my way from the booth.

“E!” Jase calls as he realizes I intend to leave. “Elliott!”

I ignore him, pushing open the glass door and stepping out into what’s already turning into a sticky heat. I trudge back across the street toward the laundromat, stomping the entire way.

“Elliott! Come on! Wait up!”

I peek back over my shoulder to find Jase chasing after me. I speed up my pace, too pissed off to want to talk to him right now.

Jase isn’t this guy, the one to jump to conclusions, the one to be a complete dick to a total stranger. He’s always been polite, inclusive,nice—at least that’s how I thought he was. We recently ended our second year at UMass together, and up until a few months ago, he’s been the same Jase I’ve always known. Too often now he’s losing his temper, with me and others. He’s grown grouchy, and sometimes downright rude. He’s never been invested in rumormongering before, but here he is talking about a kid who maybe murdered his mother…in front of him!

It’s not my Jase, and it makes me miss him.

When he grabs hold of my arm, I know it’s too late. He’s caught up.

Dammit. Why does my best friend have to be a cross-country superstar runner?

“You make it incredibly hard to run away from you when you’re being a dick, you know.”

He shifts in front of me, halting my steps. I try to dodge around him but he’s too quick. Annoyed, I drop the basket I’m holding, cross my arms over my chest, and glare at him.

“Move, Jase.”

“No. You’re being irrational right now.”

“Like hell I am! You’re contributing to small-town gossip about a kid who’s probably innocent.”

“Probably innocent? Seriously, how can you be so fucking blind to all of this?”

I flinch at his words; rarely does Jase ever cuss. In fact, he’s typically the one tellingmeto watchmymouth. To hear something so strong come from his mouth is disheartening.

“Look, E, I’m not saying this crap just because. I’m saying it because it’sfact.”

“If it’s fact, then why isn’t he in jail?”

His brows slant inward, jaw goes hard. His entire stance becomes rigid. “Why are you defending him?” Jase’s words sound like they’ve been dipped in poison.

“I’m not defending him, Jase. I’m looking at this sensibly. I don’t know the guy. How can I defend him? Actually, I seem to recall flipping him off less than half an hour ago.”

He steps closer into me. “Exactly, so why are you trying so hard to convince me he’s innocent?”

“Why are you trying so hard to convince me he isn’t?” I argue, stepping up to his challenging demeanor. If the basket weren’t between us at our feet, we’d be nose to nose right now.

Jase huffs, his nostrils flaring with the action. I roll my eyes at his anger and bend down, grabbing my laundry from the sidewalk. Surprisingly, he lets me step around him this time.