Page 91

And then he storms up the stairs to his wife.

Hawke laughs at my side.

I scratch the back of my neck. “Wow, that was easy.”

Hawke takes my hand, and we turn. Dylan stands there, color swatches spread on the coffee table and her friends sit around it, one of them making notes.

“You got this?” he asks her.

She gives him a salute, and he releases me, walking away, but not before I feel his hand slide up the inside of my thigh. I gasp, hearing his quiet laugh, and then he’s gone.

I look up at the girls, but no one’s watching.

Dylan jaunts over and grabs my hand. “So, you ready?”

“You have seatbelts?”

I’d feel better doing the driving, but that won’t fly tonight.

She leads me over to the table, and I notice more than just swatches. A laptop is open to pictures of dresses and girls wearing tiaras, and one of her friends has a price list going, but I can’t see of what.

“What’s all this?” I ask.

A little early for prom. Dylan will just be starting her senior year soon.

“This is Socorro.” She points to the dark-haired one, and then the redhead. “And this is Megan.”

Socorro waves. “Coco,” she clarifies.

I nod back.

“Coco’s having her quince,” Dylan tells me. “We’re picking out dresses.”

Coco looks at me. “Have you had your quinceañera?”

“No.” I drop my eyes to the A-line ballgowns with sweetheart necklines, traditionally pale pink or white, but it looks like she’s researching some blue ones. “Not in the cards for my family.”

I honestly can’t imagine going through the custom. At one time, I fantasized about it. Passed a limo on the streets, fancy people piled outside, and a girl who looked like a queen being fluffed and helped into the car. It was magical.

Now, I can’t justify it. There are more important things to spend money on.

“I love the idea of it,” Dylan says. “Seems so fun. I know sweet sixteen’s and that aren’t very progressive today, but it’s a reason to party.”

“And to get presents and money,” Coco adds, smiling. “Which is why I finally agreed to have it two years later than I was supposed to. I was a little rebellious at fifteen.”

She laughs, and I stand there while Megan just smiles.

Silence falls as they all shift a little, and I’m pretty sure I was supposed to say something to continue the conversation, but I can’t imagine what.

Megan inhales and plants her hands on the table, rising. “All right, I gotta go. I’ll let you get to it.”

“Right behind you,” Coco says, gathering her things. “Mani-pedi with my mom.”

“Later, Dylan,” Megan calls out.

Coco bumps Dylan’s hip playfully. “Byeee. Good luck tonight. Nice to meet you, Aro!”

Mm-hmm.

They close the front door on the way out, and Dylan pulls me along. “Come on.”

We head through the kitchen and out to the garage, Dylan grabbing her wallet and keys on the way. She grabs a couple of waters from the fridge out there, and we climb into her car, fastening seatbelts. On the left sits a black Tesla coupe and on the right another Mustang.

The garage door opens, and Dylan hangs something on the rearview mirror before she releases the parking brake and shifts into gear.

I stare at the small thumbprint fossilized into a white piece of clay hanging from a green ribbon.

Everyone knows about that charm. Jared’s wife shared a story about it in a magazine once. It’s worthless and priceless at the same time. I hadn’t come to the house to steal it, but when I saw it…

“Sorry about that, by the way,” I tell her.

“If I didn’t get it back, you would’ve been sorry.”

I’m sure. She pulls out of the garage, pressing the button above her to close it behind us, and we drive onto the street, slowly picking up speed.

The charm swings from the mirror, and staring at it, I’m actually not sure what I would’ve done with it if I’d made it home with it that night. Maybe given it to the Rebels to barter with during Rivalry Week. Maybe I would’ve sold it.

Maybe I would’ve kept it, because I like the story behind it, and maybe it would bring me luck like it has for their family for so long.

“Hawke seems happy.”

“Don’t,” I murmur.

Whatever is between him and me isn’t like she thinks it is.

But she presses. “We got our vaginas waxed together, Aro. We can talk about this.”

“And who did you get waxed for again?”

She sighs but says nothing. I look at her and watch her do everything to avoid looking at me, and I almost smile, because she’s keeping something to herself. What is she hiding?

“Dylan?” I fight my amusement.

“No one, okay?” She draws in a breath. “I just…wanted to feel like a woman, I guess.”

“A woman?”

She twists her lips, and I can tell she’s embarrassed. “Guys don’t like me,” she says quietly. “I talk too much or drive too hard or they’re afraid of my dad, I don’t know what it is.” She continues moving her mouth, and at that moment, my amusement fades as I realize she’s trying to disguise the tremble in her chin. “I just thought it would make me feel pretty, is all.”