Page 25 of Boys Who Taint

“You know what? Why don’t we grab some coffee? You can tell me all about your sister, and I’ll tell you all about my parents. How’s that sound?”

I don’t know this guy yet, but the smile that follows wins me over.

It’s been so long …

And his is the kind of smile that makes you want to learn how to smile again.

Maybe it’s about time I made new friends.

“That sounds nice.”

He holds out his hand. “C’mon. It’s on me.”

Grey

“So you’ve beenon your own since you were seven?” she asks.

I shrug. “Well, my uncle took me into his home, but he was never really there. I was practically raised by the nannies.”

“That’s so sad.” She leans back in her chair with her coffee.

“It was fine.” I shrug. “I mean, at least my uncle is rich, thanks to his textile companies. But enough about me. Tell me more about you. What happened?”

She takes a deep breath. “I can’t believe someone I considered my best friend would kill someone.”

“Your half sister wasn’t just someone, though. She was your family. And he took that away from you,” I say.

She tears up but nods and brushes the tear away.

I’m already so invested in this story. I’ve seen it on camera, but hearing it play out scene by scene is something else entirely.

“I thought it wasn’t true until he admitted it out loud,” she says, clutching her coffee tightly. “Levi Torres. A killer.”

I take another sip of my coffee, listening intently, as if I don’t already know everything there is to know about her.

“Of course, the Torres men aren’t exactly known for their cool-headedness.”

“You know them?” she asks.

I shrug. “I go to Spine Ridge University too. I’ve seen them around.”

“Wow, really?” She raises her brows. “I didn’t know that.”

“I like to stick to myself,” I reply.

“I should’ve done the same, honestly.” She rolls her eyes. “Guess you can never trust your friends.”

A smile forms on my lips, meticulously placed, waiting for her to return the favor.

When she takes the bait, I respond. “You trusted him. And he betrayed you. It’s only natural that you’d be angry.”

I grab her hand and squeeze, and she doesn’t pull back.

“You’re allowed to be angry.”

Her face darkens. “I’m more than angry. If it’s true … if he really did murder her … I want him to pay.”

My lip twitches as I fight the urge to smile. “What’s stopping you from making him regret it?”

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