Page 22

22

No Drugged Bait-and-Switch Going on Here

I awoke to someone gently shaking me. In a groggy haze I wasn’t feigning, I blinked open my heavy eyelids to find Jude’s face close to mine.

He smiled at me like he had a million times before when I’d believed him to be my plain ol’ loving dad. His hair was damp, his cheeks ruddy, like he’d recently returned from his morning run. Just an ordinary day at the Bryson household. No drugged bait-and-switching going on here …

Fuck. I had no idea how I was going to pull this off. At the best of times, I wasn’t one to bite my tongue. And this was most definitely not the best of times.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, as smooth as honey. “You overslept. It’s time to get ready for school.”

I realized I was gaping at him and hurried to rub my eyes and groan. “I don’t wanna go.” That, at least, was an easy truth.

He chuckled, so naturally that I questioned whether all of it had been a dream. Had I made up Brady’s death at the Fischer House party and everything since? It was possible, wasn’t it?

He rose from where he’d been sitting on my bed. “You say that practically every day. But Griffin’ll be here to pick you up for school soon. You don’t want to make him wait, especially not today.” He gave me a meaningful look I had no idea how to interpret.

Especially not today, meaning the day after our “parents” fucked us in the ass and then tried to pass it off as familial bonding?

“What’s up with you today?” he asked, putting me on alert that I needed to get my shit together and fast. “You never forget the anniversary of the day Mitzi skipped out on them.”

Ohhhhh . The fake anniversary of the fake abandonment of Griffin’s fake mother. Gotcha .

I sat up in bed, doing my best not to react to the fact that I was wearing familiar PJs which I had not had on when I was last awake. Who the hell changed my clothes while I was unconscious? What a violation. But then, it was all such a terrible violation, wasn’t it?

Bobo was sleeping on top of the covers, along the length of my legs, and he let out a soft, comforting snore. So he was back to being my real dog? I stroked his exposed belly, and he cut off mid-snore. At least he was all real doggy love.

I had no clue how he’d gone from this flesh-and-blood companion to being a tattoo moving across my skin, and I had even less of an idea how he’d gone back to being his regular self.

I looked up at Jude. “Thanks for reminding me, Dad.” I smiled more at the fact that I’d been able to get the endearment out without choking on it than anything else. “I must’ve been sleeping really hard when you came in. It’s taking me a sec to catch up.”

That should be believable to him. He alone was supposed to be aware that I was waking up from being motherfucking drugged and not just from some restful Zs.

I rose to walk into my ensuite bathroom, then returned with my toothbrush in hand—the same purple glittery one as before. “How’s Orson doing?”

God, was I glad I hadn’t adjusted to our faux parents’ real names yet.

My dad paused at the threshold to my room, leaning on it as he gazed back at me. “Oh, you know.” He shrugged, a movement I’d seen him make so many times I couldn’t help but get swept up a little in the familiarity of the scene. “He’s moping but trying to pretend he isn’t. I don’t think he’ll ever get fully over Mitzi. She really took his heart with her when she left.” He exhaled slowly. “Porter and I are gonna take him out for lunch and some beers. Take his mind off things. It’s a good day to break our rules. Hey, it’s always five o’clock somewhere, right?” He winked, like he was some cool dad joking around with his kid about how he overlooked our underage drinking.

A true laugh slipped free as I stuffed the toothbrush in my mouth to keep from having to say anything else. This was too weird. Too bizarre. Too quaintly comfortable.

Maybe it was all some giant … dream?

Psychosis?

Hallucination?

The very instant I hopped into Griffin’s idling Mustang out front of my house, I knew without a doubt I hadn’t dreamt a single thing.

“Hey, Joss,” he said in that usual deep, grumbly voice that whisked across my skin like a full-body hello . But his eyes burned a fierce hazel as they held mine. They told me what his words wouldn’t, courtesy of the hidden mics in our cars.

Our entire lives were a lie. And he knew it too.

Plus, Clyde was still a 1976 Ford Mustang Cobra II Coupe. Only instead of the silver I remembered, the car was a shiny black.

“Hey, Griff,” I eventually answered. “Thanks for picking me up, especially today. Sorry your mom was such a shithole to leave you and your dad like she did.”

He cruised down our long driveway, his eyes widening as they flicked to me. It looked like Orson hadn’t delivered the day’s scheduled prompt.

“I know it was years ago,” I added, “but still. I’m sorry.”

His throat bobbed. “Thanks. It’s intense.”

“Fuck yeah, it is.” I was assuming he was referring to the many things we weren’t openly discussing. “Have you talked to the others yet?”

Do they know too? Did the hypnosis recording cut out for all of us? And did we all successfully pretend it hadn’t?

Since the recording had apparently cut off but then turned back on, it seemed likely that the hiccup had been with the audio system and not any of the individual headphones. I was really hoping we were all on the same page now. It would royally suck to have different memories and realities from the only people I truly trusted.

“Nope, no word yet,” Griffin said. “No texts either.”

Our phones had been confiscated. I’d found mine on my desk, fully charged.

I lowered the window and leaned my head back against the headrest, enjoying the rush of fresh air. That, at least, wasn’t fake. “The day hasn’t even really gotten started yet and I’m already wanting it to be over.”

“Yeah, me too. Me too.”

He shifted gears, then his hand stretched toward my thigh. At the last moment, when it already hovered over my body so that I could feel the heat of his skin, he reined it back.

We weren’t supposed to be anything more than friends—by parental super-spy fucking decree.

I groaned obnoxiously and let my eyelids sink closed.

Fuck. My. Life.

After all these years of secretly pining for him, after we finally found the courage to come out about our feelings for each other, and we discovered our friends to be miraculously fine with it, now we had to hold back?

“Tell me about it,” he grumbled in shared frustration, slamming his now free hand against the steering wheel.

When we pulled into the parking lot of Ridgemore High we found Brady, Layla, and Hunt already there, waiting for us beside Bonnie. Their eyes were wide as they took in the new color of Clyde, who we knew wasn’t really Clyde at all. Gone was the Mustang we’d all worked on so lovingly for so many months.

Their reaction to the difference was all it took to release some of the tension I was carrying in my neck and shoulders. Whatever the next act of this shitshow would reveal itself to be, at least we were all in on it together.

“Thank fuck,” I muttered under my breath as I got out of the car to find Griffin already at my door, ready to close it for me. I arched my brows at him, but he simply shrugged.

“Hey, chivalry’s not dead.”

I supposed he had always treated me a bit differently from the others, even Layla. His gaze had lingered, his touch had drifted in my direction as if of its own volition, his smile had lit his eyes. At least, from the last cycle of memories I had, this was how he’d behaved. It wouldn’t arouse suspicion, and even if it did, fuck it, I wasn’t ready to give up more of Griffin than this crazy situation was already obligating me to.

I smiled up at him, remembering how he’d told me he loved me. “Thanks.” Now at least he knew I loved him back.

The wins weren’t many, but they were there if I searched for them.

After the door shut behind me, his fingers traveled to my lower back, trailing softly along the one-inch stretch of exposed skin between my low-slung jeans and my cropped shirt.

My eyelids wanted to drift closed as I leaned into his touch. Just knowing I wouldn’t be able to have it openly and with ease made me want to throw Griffin to the ground and have at him right then and there in the rapidly filling parking lot.

As if he could read my thoughts, his grip tightened with what felt like searing possession, and softly, so softly that no secret mic would pick it up, he moaned. All on its own, my body leaned back into him.

Layla cleared her throat. Through what felt like a haze, I dragged my attention over to her.

Her light eyes danced with awareness as she grinned at us. “Good morning, guys. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Griffin gave them a guy-nod hello while I just stared at them all, fully back here with them now. I wanted to bellow out, “What the fuck are we supposed to do now?”

But none of us could openly share the panic that was undoubtedly scrolling through our minds.

It was so royally messed up.

Our invisible audience was possibly already on the edge of their seats, wondering if we were acting strange because something had gone wrong or if that’s just how we were. We couldn’t risk them trying to reboot us again. The next time, their hypnosis very well might stick and we’d be completely at their mercy again. Or maybe next time they’d do something worse, more difficult to overcome.

No, we had this one chance to figure this all out and come out on top. This one opportunity where we were in the know. We had to play our parts as convincingly as the parents did, even if the deception felt wrong.

“Whazzup, guys?” I said. “Looking forward to another day of boring classes?”

Were our classes the same as the last time we’d been in school, before we were gunned down? I’d have to keep things vague until I could check my school schedule, which I typically kept in my planner in my locker. If my locker combo was different, we were screwed.

Brady chuckled darkly. “When am I ever looking forward to classes? I am looking forward to lunch though. And maybe a group run after school today? My legs could use a good stretch.”

“Mine too,” Hunt said.

“Yeah, I’m down,” Layla added, even though she was the one most likely to complain about our group runs. When Hunt found his stride, he pushed to keep going. One time, he’d convinced us to do fifteen miles. Layla had never forgiven him for that.

But running outside was the one place where we could actually talk.

Unless we were chipped, like Hunt thought we might be, in which case we’d lost the game already. We had to be able to communicate without resorting to passing notes like we were in the third grade.

“It’s a plan,” I agreed, knowing Griffin would definitely be on board. “I’m also down for a good workout session with the dummy. I’m in the mood to hit something.”

“Girl,” Layla said, “I want to beat the fuck out of something. Or someone.”

Brady somehow managed to get out a good-natured laugh that sounded so authentic I peered at him. “Aw, my little sister, always so fucking sweet.”

“I’m not your little sister,” Layla protested right away, as she’d done possibly a thousand times over the years. At least this was familiar territory that would put our eavesdropping parents at ease.

“You were born after me. That makes me the big brother. Or did you need me to help you figure out that math? Not simple enough for you?”

“Fuck you, Brade. You’re only like five minutes older than me.”

“Still older.”

“Def not more mature though. Just means I’ll get to call you an old fart.”

“At your own peril,” Brady threatened. His tone was convincing, as was Layla’s, but their body language wasn’t behind it. They were putting on a show to buy us time—but time for what? We had to have a way to communicate or we were never going to make real progress.

I was foreseeing a lot of running in our futures.

Hunt pulled his iPhone from his back pocket, tapped and swiped at the screen. “I’ve already shown Brade and Lay, but I wanna get your opinions too. I’m not sure what to answer. I don’t want to mess up my chances here, but I also don’t wanna just say yes.”

“Dude,” Brady said, “like I told you, she’s already putty in your hands. Just keep playing it smooth and you’re all good.” But again, Brady’s eyes weren’t into it.

Hunt passed the phone to Griffin, and I huddled next to him.

Zoe Wills was in Hunt’s contacts as “Zozo,” a nickname I doubted he’d give her himself in a hundred years. Layla, sure—probably even. I might even go there if the girl and I became super close friends. But Hunt? Nope.

Now that we knew to look for signs of artifice, I suspected we’d find them everywhere.

Zozo: Hey babe, wanna hang tonight? ??

Me: Sounds great, babe. Pick you up at 7?

Zozo: Can’t wait! ????

I glanced up at Hunt, whose lips were pursed. Those text messages were supposed to have been from a couple of days ago. Griffin scrolled to reveal a whole long line of them going back an entire month before he stopped, brows raised in Hunt’s direction.

“Not sure what to respond to her latest one,” Hunt steered. “I’m obviously super into her.” Which had to suck so badly for Hunt, because I didn’t think he really was. He’d liked her well enough, but if she was part of their master ruse, then how could he? And she had to be at this point, right? Or were our psycho pretend-parents hypnotizing other people too?

What a fucking quagmire.

Griffin scrolled back down to the bottom of the message thread. One came in from Zoe this morning.

Zozo: I think I’m finally ready to go all the way, babe. I want you to be my first more than I want to keep waiting. Date night tonight????? ??????????????????

Griffin and I glanced up at Hunt.

Layla scowled. “She’s really laying it on thick there, right? No doubt about what she’s gettin’ after.” Then, as if she all at once realized this wouldn’t be her usual response, she added, “But hey, gotta give kudos to a bitch. She knows what she wants, and she’s going after it. Lucky for Hunt, it’s his sweet ass. What’s even your hesitation, man? She’s cute.”

“She is cute, and I really like her, obviously.” Since the phony-ass text messages on his phone were apparently proof of that. “But I kinda wanted to wait a bit more. You know, have it be really special.”

What else was the poor bastard supposed to do but play the born-again virgin card? The faux parents were going to have him fucking a girl he didn’t even love. That might’ve worked for someone like Brady, who was fond of chasing tail, but Hunt was different. He didn’t want to just have sex, he wanted to make love. Which was why he’d only had sex a few times.

I’d purposefully not been vocal about how few times I’d actually done the deed myself. It was challenging to really get into some other guy when all I wanted was the one standing next to me. The one who, for so many years, had been off limits.

If Magnum or the parents had manipulated Griffin and me apart more than this one time, I was going to deliver an ass-kicking on a platter for that reason alone. I would have much preferred to share my first time with him than the dufus I had, shit .

Griffin was the one for me.

Griffin handed the phone to Hunt. “Then that’s what you should do, dude. The right time with the right person really matters.”

My skin buzzed as I couldn’t help but feel he was also talking about us.

“Tell Zoe how you really feel, man,” Griff went on. “Tell her you really like her, and you maybe will eventually want to share something so special with her. But you’re not ready yet, and you don’t know how long it’ll take for you to be ready. If she’s really into you, she’ll wait however long you want and need. If she’s not”—Griffin shrugged—“then she’s not the right girl for you anyway, and fuck her.”

“Just don’t actually fuck her,” Layla said with a bit of her signature mischief tipping up her lips. “’Cause that would really defeat the purpose of the whole ‘I wanna wait’ deal.”

“Always such a help, Lay,” Brady commented.

She twirled, framing her face with both hands and batting her lashes at him. “I know, right?”

Brady snorted, and this time I thought it was for real.

Even so, this charade was going to drive us all bonkers—me first. I knew it, they all knew it. I did not do well with holding back my true thoughts.

Layla perhaps even less so.

What we really needed was telepathy or some shit, one of these nebulous “other powers” Jackie had teased us with and then not revealed. Of all the times for her not to elaborate on a damn thought.

But hey, if we were all, you know, immortals —and that was totally, wholly, and absolutely in-fucking-sane—then maybe we could do other things, like speak to each other through our minds. Crazier things had already happened.

Maybe all I’ve gotta do if I wanna tell Griff how fucking sexy he is and how much I wanna kiss him all over and then jump his sizzling bones is push the thought into his mind.

Directing the thought outward while chuckling to myself at the absurdity of it, I glanced up—

Only to discover not just Griffin but all four of my best friends in the entire world gaping at me.

Hunt dropped his phone. It crashed to the asphalt of the parking lot. He didn’t even look at it.

Their astonished stares were locked on me.

“What?” I asked.