Broken Pretty Things by Amber Faye
Chapter 4
Logan’s party…
“Loose ‘n’Easy. Looking good!”
The group of Westerley kids amble past to get into the Palace and I level my best stony look at them, stepping out of my car and slamming the door. They stop gawking at Andie, at her high heels, bare legs, tight white halterneck dress, and they gape up at me. Yeah. They know who I am.
“Didn’t see you there, Rayne,” one of them says, and flashes me a smile he probably thinks is charming.
“They never do,” I say, calmly, smiling back. The kid’s face turns white and he turns around, slamming face-first into a friend of his.
“Yo, move,” he snaps, and the group of them grab up their six packs and head into the Palace. He tosses a look at me over his shoulder. “Have a great night!”
“Yeah,” I say, shoving my hands into my pockets as I step to Andie’s side. It’s something of a habit, because I used to touch her all the time. Wrap my arms around her, squeeze her shoulders, whatever. Before I realized she wasn’t mine anymore — that she never was. She takes a deep breath before she turns to smile up at me. “We will.”
“That fucking nickname,” she murmurs, leaning into me so nobody around us hears that those kids actually got under her skin.
“I know,” I say, rolling my shoulders. “It’s not even creative. I would have called you something way better.” She wrinkles up her nose before she laughs, like she was fighting it, but she lost. It’s so fucking cute.
“Like what?”
“Sausage muncher,” I say firmly. She loses it at my lack of hesitation. “Nob gobbler.” She hits me and I laugh too, pretending to sway on my feet like she could topple me.
“I wouldn’t care as much if it was true,” she says softly.
I really do feel sympathy. High school is fucking brutal, and I say that as someone who had an easy ride through it all. With my name, my father, and the rest of my family all being who and what they are, I haven’t ever had any trouble. Not to mention the rumor that got around last year that I beat someone half to death. Nope, that didn’t hurt.
Nobody here gives me shit, because of a rumor in my favor, while a stupid rumor about Andie threatened to ruin her. But not while her friends are around, it won’t.
Cole steps over from a huddle of people, falling in step with Andie and snaking his arm awkwardly around her hips.
She stiffens. I always, always see it, and it drives me fucking crazy that nobody else seems to. Maybe I really am just imagining it. Cole is the most genuine person I’ve ever known, other than Andie, and they are both happy, smart, attractive people. They get along great. Why wouldn’t they be into each other?
And, if they’re not, why the hell are they pretending to be?
It’s none of my business. All I know is that, with me on her left, and Cole to her right as we step into the Palace, nothing can hurt her. Nothing can hurt any of the three of us, I think, as I lift my chin in greeting to a couple of guys from the football team. They raise their beers to us, whistle appreciatively at Andie, who gives them a weird-ass curtsy that makes me laugh, and smack their beer bottles against Cole’s.
The music thuds, but it’s not the right playlist yet. Give me a minute with the sound system and I’ll turn this party into an event worth remembering.
Sometimes it’s easy to feel as confident as we act. Sometimes, on nights like this, it feels a lot like we’re untouchable.