Fallen Crest Public(95)

I nodded. My phone was out. The last text from Sam said: I love you. Wake me up when you get here. Key’s under the broken step in porch. I want to talk.
Logan saw the text. He didn’t say anything at first, but after a moment asked, “She doesn’t know? You didn’t tell her last night?”
“Nope.”
“And she doesn’t know we’ll be gone all night?”
“Nope.”
“This could backfire, you know.”
“I know.” I clutched the phone in my hand.
“She might leave you.”
“I know.”
“You’re still sure?”
We were in the back seat, separated from the rest of the team. The guys knew a plan was in motion and I was grateful for the space. I needed to go over all the risks and calculations.
I nodded now. “I am. You?”
Logan flashed me a grin. “I’m down for anything.”
“If she leaves, she’s leaving you, too.”
“I know.” His grin vanished. “It’ll be worth it.”
“Okay.” I nodded again as the bus pulled into the parking lot and rolled to a stop. “Let’s go to that party then.”
Logan got up first, and I followed him. We knew what to do next.
Kate was lying to herself. When I called her Sunday night, I heard the hope in her voice. I said all the right things: I apologized; I wanted a clean slate; I missed our friendship.
She lapped it up. Then I said what I needed to cinch it for her: I’d forgotten that she was my equal in every way. As soon as I said that, she was sobbing on other end. It’d been what she wanted to hear all along. She assured me we could move forward. She would reign in the other girls. They could all be friends again, and it’d be like nothing ever happened.
Stupid girl.
I warned her. She chose to believe my lies. That was her mistake. I didn’t change my mind. I never changed my mind.
The plan had been in motion for a while, but tonight was the beginning of the end.



21





Logan and I drove to the party. It was spread over a large grassy field surrounded by trees. Trucks were parked so their tailgates could be lowered. People were either leaning, sitting, or standing around them. A few had their own supply of liquor. Pony kegs and coolers were spread out and barrels were in the middle section. Each barrel had been lit so the fire heated the area. This party wasn’t like normal Public parties. No Academites were allowed. No one cared about coke and champagne at this party. This was a District party, held on Frisco land. As soon as I got out, people headed over and the divide was immediate. Fallen Crest people stepped toward us, and the rest of Roussou remained on the other side of the barrels with Budd Broudou.
“Mason, my man.”
A tall guy came towards us. He was lean and lanky, with a build that resembled a professional basketball player.
“Pailor, how’s it going?”
“It’s going, man.” His mouth curved in an easygoing manner, but his eyes didn’t miss a thing. They were clear and alert. As Logan came around his Escalade, he held his hand out. “Logan, my dude.”
“Frankie.”
“Oh.” He drew back and reassessed both of them. “What are you two up to?” His hand ran over his bald head.
I threw Logan a sidelong look. “Nothing. What are you talking about?”
Frankie moved back another step, studying us before he shook his head. “See. This look you both gave me. Intense as hell. With you,” he gestured to me, “I expect it, but with this one,” he punched Logan in the stomach, “he’s never showed up without a cocky smirk. He sure never sticks around long. It takes you five minutes to get a girl—two to pick the girl, one to grab her, and the last two to take her somewhere private. Now you show up and there’s no grin, there’s no quick wit,” he pointed at the crowd behind them, “and you haven’t even looked at the girls yet. So that’s how I know you two aren’t here to party.”