These Deadly Games(27)
I snapped mine back. “Hi.”
“Uh, sorry … The door was open.” Oops. I must not have closed it behind Dylan. Mom always lectured me for forgetting to lock it, and then I’d remind her of the latest time she forgot where she put her phone or keys.
“It’s fine,” I said. The rest of the group streamed into the kitchen. Zoey slinked in last, looking a bit off-kilter.
“Dude! You stole a test?” Randall shoved Dylan’s arm playfully. “Everyone knows you gotta snap pics and put it back.”
Dylan’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t steal anything.”
Matty and Randall snickered. “Sure, sure,” said Randall. Akira elbowed him.
“I didn’t!”
Zoey gave Dylan a sympathetic look. “You could tell us if you did. We wouldn’t judge.” My eyes nearly rolled to the back of my skull. She would love another con artist to commiserate with.
“But I didn’t!” Dylan slumped his shoulders, defeated. “Dammit. If you don’t believe me, how will anyone else? How will MIT?”
“Them’s the breaks.” Randall chortled some more, already helping himself to a brownie, relentlessly teasing as always.
“I believe you,” I said.
Dylan’s head snapped up. “Really?”
“Really?” said Matty at the same time.
Heat rushed into my cheeks, and I swallowed hard. “If he said he didn’t do it, he didn’t do it. Why would he lie to us?”
Matty’s eyes darted between Dylan and me, and something twinged in my chest. Did he know how I felt about Dylan? I trusted Akira and Randall to keep my feelings on the DL. But Matty had seen me storm from Lucia’s party after Zoey kissed Dylan. Was he putting two and two together?
“Cuz he knows he shoulda snapped pics!” said Randall, mouth full.
Akira flicked Randall’s arm. “Will you stop?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be home babysitting?” Dylan snapped at Randall.
“My parents got home early. I’m a free boy,” Randall said in a Pinocchio voice. He shook Dylan’s shoulder, getting crumbs all over the place. “Chill, dude. I’m just giving you a hard time.”
“C’mon.” I slid off the barstool. “Let’s go play.” I needed to distract my friends with MortalDusk so I could google Lance Burdly. Hopefully the police hadn’t already busted down his door …
Dylan grabbed the tray of brownies, and Akira took a plate from the cabinet and tugged open the silverware drawer. She always nibbled at her desserts, savoring them for as long as possible. “Um…?” She picked up my cell.
My heart jolted. “Oh, that’s where it went.” I grabbed it and headed for the basement, ignoring how she watched me as if I were an alien.
Downstairs, I settled into the recliner Zoey usually took. She gave me a confused look before plopping down in my usual spot on the couch next to Akira, but I needed this spot to research Lance Burdly without Akira or Dylan noticing.
“So your dad was chill about it?” Randall asked Dylan.
“Uh … no?” Dylan set the tray on the desk before sitting next to Zoey. Whiskers leaped off her perch on the armrest next to him and dashed upstairs to find some peace and quiet.
“Well, you’re here,” said Randall. “He didn’t ground your ass?”
“Oh. He still doesn’t know. Mr. Chen couldn’t get in touch with him … He’s at some book festival in New York.” Dylan and his dad moved up to Vermont when their old New York City landlord skyrocketed their rent, and they couldn’t swing it on his dad’s publishing salary. He got a job at a small local publishing house but had to travel to conferences and festivals all the time. And since Dylan’s mom was dead, he was on his own a lot.
“Lucky break.” Matty took a brownie and passed the tray to Zoey.
She waved him off. “No, thanks. Still feeling queasy.” Huh. Zoey was a chocoholic. Maybe she really had been sick today.
“So, Crys, let me get this straight,” said Matty, distracting me from starting my search. “You yakked at school, and then, to celebrate yakking, you baked brownies?”
“Uh … well … I wanted to make Dylan some comfort food.”
Dylan chuckled. “Nothing like chocolate to make you forget your life’s been destroyed.” There was that snark again.
“Your life hasn’t been destroyed,” I said. “We’ll figure this out together, okay?”
Dylan’s eyes snapped to mine and held, almost like he was trying to puzzle out something. My cheeks warmed, and by the time I finally broke eye contact, my face probably matched Zoey’s pink hair.
She and Matty both stared with sour expressions.
I couldn’t care less what Zoey thought. But Matty’s expression made cracks spider through my rib cage. I couldn’t let our mismatched feelings destroy us. I had to talk to him. I had to make sure he knew how much he meant to me, and that I’d never do anything to risk our friendship—though he’d probably point out how Akira and Randall were making it work …
Yet as our eyes remained locked, the thought of discussing this with him physically pained me. Why? I was scared to hurt Matty’s feelings, sure. But there was something else. For some reason, I’d closed myself off to the possibility of us, pulling away whenever he leaned too close, inviting the others whenever he asked me somewhere. Was I being foolish?