Page 120 of Headstrong Like Us
Beckett removes the cigarette that’s tucked behind his ear. “How long are we going to do this?”
“Until I forget how you so casually took a massive shit on our eighteen-year friendship.” Her eyes flame. “Can you go?”
“I’m already leaving.” He pauses, though, and I realize most of our group is drifting towards the bar. He locks eyes with Donnelly.
But instead of approaching his ex-bodyguard like I think he might want to do, Beckett beelines for the girls at the inflatable palm trees.
I can’t fix these broken relationships, as much as I wish I could.
I’m barely able to keep the one I have with Charlie intact.
“What happened?” I ask Sulli with force.
She lifts her phone, still clenched in a fist. “I talked to my boyfriend tonight, and I learned some fucked up shit.”
“Like what?” I hear the heat in my voice.
“I know why Akara’s been so fucking standoffish around me since December.”
This can’t be good.
And out of my peripheral, I see Charlie, squeezing between bodies and trying to make his way down the bar.
To me.
With hot urgency.
Sulli notices too, and I search the crowd and find who I need. “Janie!” I gesture my best friend closer, and the cat-ears on her headband bounce as she trots through the masses.
“Moffy.” Charlie’s already grabbing my elbow. “You need to come with me.” Concern hits his yellow-green eyes, and him seeking me out for help is like an ominous fog descending on the bar.
Janie squeezes in.
“Stay with Sulli?” I ask as Charlie pulls me away.
She nods confidently. “I’ll get you another lemonade too!” She must see me empty-handed, and Jane’s been thebestbest woman, ensuring that I always have a drink. Even if they’re all nonalcoholic.
Charlie drags me through the crowds, too quickly for temp security to lead out in front. I take a fast glance behind me, but the bar is too congested to spot our off-duty bodyguards.
I suspect Farrow and Oscar probably aren’t too far behind.
Closer to the speakers, a Beach Boys song blasts my eardrums. “What’s going on, Charlie?!” I shout over the music.
He keeps moving but tips his head back so I can hear. “Your sister is here.”
My sister.
It takes a hard millisecond to register that he’s not referring to Luna.
Kinney.
Kinney is here.
My brows cinch. “You sure it’s her?!”
He slips me an annoyed glance. “Black hair. Bangs. Looks at you like she wants to eat your soul.” He puts a cigarette to his lips. “Basically wishes she were my mom.”
Yeah, that’s my little sister. I keep pace with his stride, coming up beside him. No longer having to yell.
