Page 18

But who am I to judge anyone or pretend to understand their situation?

If there’s one thing that’s true about religion everywhere, it’s that people keep secrets.

At gatherings, they present the side they want everyone to see, and everyone agrees to pretend that those masks are their authentic selves.

I hate the hypocrisy so much.

If I had money, I’d be out of here. If I had literally anything or anyone else besides my dad and a small amount of savings hidden away in an online account he doesn’t know about…

“You okay?” Edgar seats himself on the log beside me and offers me a juicy bratwurst in a bun.

It looks and smells amazing, so I take it. “Thanks. I’m fine. Just thinking.”

Thinking about running away.

But it’s just not feasible. Not alone. Not with this other side of me ready to crawl up my throat at any time. Dad may not provide me with much support, but at least it’s something. I wouldn’t survive by myself.

After we eat, Edgar gives a short devotional that I think he intends to be super down-to-earth, practical, and inspiring but comes across as kind of fake and insipid.

Maybe it’s my mood, though, because everyone else nods and hums their agreement.

Everyone, that is, except Heathcliff and Isabella, who are sitting on the sand with their backs to a log.

I pretend not to notice Heathcliff’s hand disappear beneath the blanket they’re sharing.

Isabella has her knees arched up so I can’t see what Heathcliff is doing under there, but I do notice her face growing redder.

Or maybe it’s just the glow of the fire.

Edgar is finally winding down his little sermon. “How about we take some prayer requests—”

“We need music,” I blurt out.

He looks at me, startled. “Okay, I guess we could sing some songs…”

“No, like, real music.”

“I’ve got portable speakers and a party playlist,” Thomas offers.

I could kiss that boy. “Yes. Yes, do it.”

The mood of the group changes instantly. Maybe they weren’t as into Edgar’s pious “singles’ night” as they pretended to be. Maybe they were just waiting for somebody to give them a reason to party.

“I don’t suppose anybody brought grown-up drinks,” says Narinna Madden with a tentative laugh. She’s been cozying up to Melanie Dodds ever since we gathered around the bonfire, and I’m starting to wonder if there was something going on under their blanket as well.

Heathcliff rises, letting the blanket slide off his legs. “I didn’t know what kind of party this would be,” he says, “but I did bring a couple coolers along, just in case, if someone wants to help me get them out of the trunk.”

Edgar looks rather crestfallen at the rapid unraveling of his sedate singles’ night.

“Come on, Ed,” urges Lazar. “We’re all over twenty-one.”

“Jesus drank,” pipes up Melanie.

Edgar’s shoulders droop. He’s yielding already, soft, weak thing that he is. Not that I want him to resist, but I kind of despise him for how quickly he folds.

“Okay,” he says. “Just…everyone drink responsibly, okay? Be sure to put empties in the baskets. We don’t want litter on the beach. And let’s keep personal boundaries in mind.”

“Sure, man.” Heathcliff winks at Isabella, who blushes and clutches the blanket closer.

He strides off with a few of the others and they return with coolers full of beer.

Thomas’s speakers are soon flooding the firelit beach with Camila Cabello and Khalid, while the tabs of beer cans creak and hiss, and everyone starts to chatter.

Heathcliff saunters over and opens a beer for me, holding my gaze. Despite the cold, heat creeps along my skin.

“I’m winning that bet,” he says, low.

“The fuck you are,” I reply under my breath. With my free hand, I unzip my hoodie, showing the low neckline of the sundress beneath. I tug it down a bit farther, smirking as Heathcliff’s gaze darts to my cleavage.

“What were you saying about that bet?” I ask sweetly. Then I saunter back to Edgar, bathe him in my signature smile, and hold out the beer. “Want some?”

“I don’t usually drink,” he replies. “But maybe just a little.”

“Okay.” I take a swallow, holding the foamy beer in my mouth, and I lean down, pursing my lips.

Edgar’s blue eyes widen, and he yields, tipping his face up and opening his mouth.

I kiss him, parting my lips just enough to let the beer trickle over his tongue.

I’m fully conscious that in this position, my ass is pointed straight at Heathcliff and the short dress I’m wearing won’t cover any of it.

Plus, my “modest one-piece” swimsuit has ridden up, so Heathcliff is getting an eyeful of my ass cheeks.

Smiling at Edgar, I plop myself on the log beside him. He blinks, his lips wet. “You’re something else, Cathy. I don’t remember you being like this before.”

“Maybe you didn’t really know me before.”

“Should you be drinking, though? With your medical conditions?”

The smile freezes on my face. I have to bite back a nasty retort and formulate one that won’t immediately ruin my chances of winning the bet.

“You’re so sweet to worry about me,” I say softly.

“It’s all right for me to drink a little.

But you’ll have to help me finish this beer.

You can do that for me, can’t you, Eddie? ”

He swallows hard. “Well, sure.”

He’s a lightweight, of course, and it doesn’t take him long to start feeling the effects.

By then, Narinna and Melanie are dancing together, Lazar is dancing with Thomas, and a few others have paired off as well.

I can’t help smiling about the first two couples.

Maybe this group isn’t as heteronormative as I thought.

And Edgar’s not saying anything to discourage them, which is a point in his favor.

Heathcliff and Isabella have been talking in low voices, but as a slow acoustic country song comes on, he lifts her to her feet and pulls her close.

She leans against him as they dance, and I start wishing I had a different supernatural power—maybe the ability to make another woman’s head explode with a single thought. Could be messy, though.

“Let’s dance.” I toss the empty can into one of the baskets we brought and grab Edgar’s hands, yanking him up.

He wobbles and laughs. “Careful, Cathy.”

I press my body against his. “We should hold each other up so we don’t fall down.”

“Good idea.” His arms close around me. I glance sidelong at Heathcliff to make sure he notices. He’s watching me over the top of Isabella’s head.

We sway like that, eyeing each other while we dance with our respective partners. I let my hand slide to Edgar’s ass, but he pulls it back up to his waist.

“Whoa there.” He chuckles. “I think this is getting out of hand. We should probably call it a night and head back. Except we’ve all been drinking, so…who’s gonna drive the van?”

“Ugh, the van ,” I murmur, tracing his lips with my finger. “You act like we’re a bunch of teens, Eddie, making us ride out here together in a van . We’re not kids.”

“Yeah, I know.” His brow furrows. “I just…miss it. The way things were before I went off to college. We used to have such good times.”

I don’t mention the fact that I was rarely included in those good times. I had to say no so often, they just quit asking me.

“Did you have fun at college?” I say.

“Well, I had some great teachers—”

“No, no. I mean… fun .” I wiggle my eyebrows at him.

He laughs. “Oh. Um…maybe.”

“With girls or guys?”

Alarm flares in his eyes, and his face turns brick red. “Why are you asking me that?”

“It’s just a question. I don’t care either way. It’s all good.” I cup his neck, stroking my fingers through the ends of his blond hair.

But Edgar is angry now, and frantic. “This isn’t right. None of this is right.” He glances around at the others.

Great, I’m definitely losing the bet now. Reluctantly I meet Heathcliff’s gaze, and he smirks. Then he cups Isabella’s chin, tips her face up, and kisses her. A deep, slow, sensual kiss, with a lot of tongue, while both his big hands squeeze Isabella’s ass.

And he’s still looking at me.

I’m burning as hotly as if I stepped into the firepit—incandescent with fury, defeat, craving, and a jealousy I can’t deny any longer. I have to do something. Stop this… kill him…

But Edgar moves before I can. He shoves me away so roughly, I stumble back and sit down hard on the sand. Then he lunges around the firepit toward Heathcliff, roaring, “Get away from my sister!”

Three things flash through my brain.

One, Edgar Linton is an angry drunk. Like Dad.

Two, Heathcliff has broken the kiss with Isabella and he’s staring at me, concern and anger churning in his dark gaze as I pick myself up off the sand.

Three, everyone else has stopped dancing and drinking, and their attention is fixed on Edgar and Heathcliff.

“I knew you were trouble when you showed up,” Edgar snarls at Heathcliff, and god help me, a Taylor Swift song starts playing in my head. I climb to my feet, smothering a hysterical laugh.

“Eddie, calm down,” Isabella says, but Heathcliff cups her shoulders and moves her aside, not roughly but decisively. She’s smart enough to stay put.

“You’re not here for the right reasons, Cliff.

” Edgar is white as death now, his hand shaking, the index finger poking Heathcliff in the chest. “You brought beer. You had the nerve to grope my sister. You encouraged everyone to—to act in ways they shouldn’t.

You’re not welcome here anymore, and I suggest you leave. ”

A slow, wicked grin widens on Heathcliff’s face. He speaks to me over Edgar’s head. “Cathy, do you want me to leave?”

“Why are you asking her?” Edgar chokes out, furious. “Don’t look at her. She’s not for you.”

“Cathy?” Heathcliff repeats.

I’m torn between the answer that will bring peace and the volatile truth. Of course I choose violence. “I want you to stay.”

“Cathy wants me here, Eddie ,” Heathcliff says. “So I’ll be staying.”