Page 66 of Dead Set on You
“No,” Rafael interrupts. He looks to Lupe—to me. “I think that we start with the sane options before we dive headfirst into the drownings and demons.”
Is Rafael the practical one? My templesthump, thumpto their own beat.
“I’m scheduling them all,” Lupe says. “But we can start with theobviousones.”
Rafael downs the rest of his beer. “We’re going to sort this out.” He looks pointedly at me. “Whoever—whatever—it takes,” he says, like he’s making a promise. His voice low and sure. My breath hitches at the intensity in his gaze. It feels slightly more difficult to breathe. Maybe this isit?
Lupe follows Rafael’s line of sight. “This will never not be weird.”
“Tell me about it,” I say to myself, trying to keep my face from showing how I feel.
“You have no clue,” Rafael says. His phone buzzes on the table, catching his attention. He stiffens, then stands abruptly. “I have to take this.”
The jarring shift in his demeanor throws me. Even Lupe looks surprised.
“It can’t wait?” Lupe shouts after Rafael. He ignores her.
“Is that your sponsor for Tacos and Tequila Tuesdays?” I ask dryly as he passes me. He stumbles midstep, likely surprised I remember his ridiculous YouTube idea.
“Funny, E.” Rafael disappears down the hallway. “Hey …”
I don’t catch anything else as he answers his mystery call, but my curiosity tugs at me like a leash.
“Evie?” Lupe’s voice startles me.
I turn to her. She’s looking to my left—trying to find me.On instinct, I move closer.
“I need to say something before he comes back.” Internal alarms go off. I brace myself. For what? I have no clue, but the sudden change in her tone sends a pang of panic through me. “Raffi’s like the big brother I never had. Helped me get my life together after I screwed it up with partying and bad people—even while dealing with his own shit. Made sure I’d never have a reason to go back.” Her gaze is distant, pensive. I didn’t know. “Going through that makes me protective of him, so don’t take this the wrong way, but I have mixed feelings about Raffi helping you.” The words hit like a wrecking ball, harder than I expect.
What does that mean?
I wish I could ask.
“I’m helpinghimbecause I’d do anything for him,” Lupe continues. “But honestly, he’s told me a lot about you.” I try not to cringe, thinking of the not-so-fun things that could have made the list. “I know I shouldn’t be saying this. He’d probably kill me actually, but hell, it’s about time you knew. Probably not a better time than now”—I brace myself—“but he is—”
“Wary of leaving his cousin on her own,” Rafael interrupts. I yip, turning on him.
“What? I was just going to say that you told me Evie plans free time,” Lupe says, her tone changing back to fun and light. Shrugging, she downs a swig of her beer. “Nothing to be ashamed of.”
I gape at Rafael, who’s glaring at his cousin. A silent exchange passes, and I’m convinced it might have nothing to do with scheduling free time and everything to do with some secret.
Rafael must feel my eyes burning into the side of his stupidly handsome face, because he turns to me. “Sorry?”
“What’s wrong with time management, Raffy Taffy?” I ask, scanning his face for more. What did Lupe want to say? A secret that’s making them both wage a staring war? And that call he left for?
He’s definitely hiding something.Secrets.
“It’s late,” Rafael says, stretching like that settles it. “And we have a medium to see in the morning.”
Translation: Subject closed. But my gut says otherwise—because all I can think issecrets, secrets, secrets.
And the worst part? I was starting to think I could trust him.
CHAPTER SIXTEENTEN DAYS AFTER
The next morning, I’m back in Rafael’s loft, waking up on his sofa in the same clothes, same shoes, like I’m living some demented Groundhog Day. It doesn’t help that I barely slept, the night a battlefield of anxiety, paranoia, and the occasional movement in the bedroom beside mine: Rafael’s. Where he was likely undressing and performing his bedtime ritual, probably involving the hair locks of his exes and cologne-scented candles. Three hundred push-ups. A shot of tequila.
While he dozed, I spent hours alternating between obsessive overthinking and wishing away the throb inside my skull—athump, thump, thumpaccompanied by a replay of the night, mainly the part with Lupe’s almost-revelation.
