Little Lies(64)

River looks at him like he’s the dumbest asshole alive. He’s not; he’s drunk and high, so half his brain cells are asleep. “They track her phone.” The duh is clear in his tone.

That’s not exactly surprising. Lavender is the quintessential good girl, and highly unlikely to get into trouble, but everyone is still highly protective over her.

“Why wouldn’t she leave it at home?” Mav continues. “Then they wouldn’t know.”

River’s lip curls. “Do you honestly want our seventeen-year-old sister staying out until whatever o’clock in the morning without a damn phone?”

“Point taken,” Mav mutters. “You’re responsible for keeping an eye on her.”

“You know this isn’t her scene. Lavender will disappear upstairs, and you won’t see her until tomorrow.” River pulls his phone out of his pocket and frowns, which is the expression he wears about 90 percent of the time. “Oh, shit.”

The front door slams open, and in stumbles a group of girls.

What’s confusing, at first, is the fact that these girls seem to think it’s Halloween. They’re dressed in superhero costumes. And then the reality of who they are registers, and my entire body feels like it’s been dipped in fire and ice at the same time.

Dawson, one of the defensemen on the school hockey team, whose family lives about twenty minutes from here, inserts himself into our circle and lets out a low whistle. “Since when is this a costume party? You know what? Who cares? Dibs on the Wonder Tits.”

Mav dives in front of River, catching him around the waist when he launches himself at Dawson.

“You touch my sister, and I’ll cut your tongue out of your mouth and replace it with your dick,” River seethes.

“Whoa, whoa, Riv, calm down.” Mav struggles to keep his hold on him.

River might be two years younger, but he’s close to the same height, and he’s starting to fill out.

Dawson laughs nervously. “Sister? Shit, man. Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You breathe in her direction, and I will knock every single one of your teeth out of your mouth, dickhead.” He elbows Mav in the side. “Let me go, asshole, or I’ll embarrass the shit out of you by kicking your ass.”

Mav shoves him away. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

River takes a deep haul off the joint, flicks the roach at Dawson, and blows the smoke in my face. “She’s died enough deaths over you, Kodiak. Stay away from her.”

“Twinsie!” Lavender stumbles through the open French doors, tripping over the one-inch lip. She nearly goes down, but River scoops her up and sets her on her feet. She hugs him around the waist.

“What the fuck?” River looks down at his sister, her face plastered against his chest. “Are you drunk?”

“I’m fine,” Lavender mumbles into his shirt.

He looks to Lovey and Lacey for an answer. “Is she drunk?”

“We’re so sorry,” they say in unison. “She had Jell-O cups in her bag, one for each of us, but since Lacey and I are vegan, we can’t eat Jell-O, so she ate all three.” Lovey wrings her hands.

“Shiiiittt.” Maverick kneads the back of his neck. “Well, that explains where the Jell-O shooters disappeared to.”

Lovey gives him her best disapproving look. “Jell-O shots are supposed to go in those tiny plastic glasses, not giant pudding-cup containers! How much alcohol was in those?”

“I dunno, like a mickey? I didn’t have any of the small ones, and Lav has been on a Jell-O kick like she’s seven again, so I figured I was doing the world a favor by recycling. Plus, we’re dudes.” He motions to me and the other guys. “Pudding-cup-sized shots seem way more reasonable.”

“You’re an idiot, Mav,” River snaps. “Look at her.” He motions to Lavender, who’s still hugging her brother. “If she pukes, you’re cleaning it up.”

“Don’t be mad, Rivy. I promise I won’t puke.” Lavender pats him awkwardly on the cheek.

River blows out a breath, his frustration obvious. “You can’t promise that, Lav.”

“Okay. Well, if I do puke, I’ll be really quiet about it.” Lavender tips her head back and smiles up at her brother, who’s a good head taller than her, although pretty much everyone is.

Even that small movement sets her off-balance, and she stumbles back a step. River grabs her arm to keep her from falling over.

Lavender has never been particularly coordinated. She could fall over an idea. Drunk Lavender is a damn mess.

A damn hot mess.

A damn hot, sexy mess.

Lavender is no longer the quiet, awkward, anxious, knobby-kneed little girl with bruises all over the place and paint in her hair. She’s grown up in the years since I last saw her. A lot. She’s more woman than girl, and she has all the curves to prove it.

“I’m fine.” She knocks her brother’s hand away. “Besides, I’m not worried about seeing Kodiak anymore, so that’s a good thing.” She shivers, and her breath puffs out in white clouds. She drops her voice to a whisper. “Is he still here?” She brushes her hair out of her face and adjusts her headband thing. It’s still sitting wonky. “Do I look okay?” She smooths her hands over her hips.