Be the Girl(71)

She glances over, catches me watching her, and quickly averts her gaze to the floor.

And I can’t help but think she’s the one who put the idiotic idea in Adam’s head. The person who knows how much Cassie loves sweets, how easily she’d be convinced to take it.

But is she that cruel? Or is she that drunk and caught up in the moment of revenge?

Either way, the fact that she’s talking to the jerk now speaks volumes.

“Ready?” Emmett comes up behind me, still seething.

I hand him his jacket.

“Emmett?” Cassie stands at the top of the staircase.

“Here.” Emmett shifts around me to take the steps down, until he’s directly in front of Cassie, ready to break her fall if need be.

“I’m feeling kind of funny now.” Cassie ducks her head and wipes away her tears as we pass people. But their eyes are on Emmett—on his bloody fists, on his torn collar, on the silent rage emanating from him.

“No, you’re fine. You won’t feel funny yet,” I assure her again.

“We need to tell Mom.”

“No!” Emmett smooths his hand over his forehead. “Just let me think for a minute, Cassie. And next time, don’t eat cookies that someone gives you at a party!”

“I’m sorry, Emmett.” She sobs. “This is all my fault!”

He shakes his head. “No. It’s not your fault. It’s mine, for bringing you here.”

And mine, since I’m the one who convinced him it was a good idea.

Is that what he’s thinking right now? Is he angry with me?

Knots form in the pit of my stomach.

“I don’t want to go to a party ever again,” Cassie whispers, her shoulders hunched, her head bowed.

He sighs. “I don’t blame you.”





20





Emmett sets the bowl of chips on the coffee table and then sinks into the couch beside me.

Tension radiates from every inch of his body.

“What did you tell them?” I dare ask.

“That we came home early and all three of us are watching a movie downstairs.”

“And …?”

He steals a glance at Cassie, who’s curled up on the couch beneath a blanket, her attention locked on Spiderman’s form as he swings between buildings on the TV screen. The ten-minute walk home felt like ten hours, a true test of patience, with Cassie stopping every twenty or so steps to announce with panic that she felt funny, and Emmett and I needing to convince her that she was fine. She retreated into her own world as soon as we came down here and has been quiet ever since, as if the walls and familiar setting have sedated her.

He shakes his head. “Not yet. I figured I’d let them have fun for a bit before I ruin their entire weekend. I’m still hoping there wasn’t enough in it to do anything major. Adam makes them himself and he’s an idiot. I wouldn’t be surprised if he screwed up the measurements.”

That could go one of two ways—too little, or too much—but I don’t bring that up. Still, it’s been almost an hour and there’s no droopy eyes or uncontrollable giggling fit, or paranoia. No sign of Cassie being stoned … yet.

The first thing Emmett did when we got home was change his shirt and wash the blood from his face, and Adam’s blood from his knuckles. I note the bruises forming. “Maybe you should put some ice on that.”

“I’m fine.” He stretches his fingers, setting his hand on his thigh. “My mom is going to lose it.”

“I can’t picture your mom losing it.” Heather, with her soft smiles and her patient sighs. Then again, I have heard her sharp tone a few times. Still …

“My mom is calm and level-headed until it comes to Cassie. She already wants nothing to do with the Levic family after what happened last year. And now, with this? I won’t be surprised if she calls the cops. But then who knows what’ll happen to me for beating the hell out of him.”

What a mess.

“I’m so sorry, Emmett. I shouldn’t have pushed you to let her come. You knew better.” What could possibly go wrong? A lot, apparently.

He shakes his head. “No, this wasn’t your fault. And it was a good idea. If I’d stuck by her like I was supposed to, none of this would’ve happened.”

If he hadn’t been making out with me by the bathroom. No matter what he says, I am partially to blame.

He looks from Cassie, to me, and then he finally reaches over to collect my hand in his, his thumb stroking my skin. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and she’ll fall asleep.”

“I can hear you talking about me,” Cassie mutters with annoyance, her eyes still glued to the TV.

Emmett smirks. “How are you feeling?”

“That cookie didn’t taste good. I’m thirsty.” It comes out in a long string, as if one cohesive sentence.

“Yeah, they usually don’t. I brought you water. It’s on the coffee table, by your head.”

She sits up and reaches for it, downing half the glass in three gulps.

“Why couldn’t you like beer instead of cookies, Cass? I could win money off your chugging skills.” His lips curve slightly.

“Because I don’t like beer.” She sets the glass down again and flops back onto the couch, her attention on the TV. “You like beer. And AJ likes beer.”