Chapter 20
brANDON
“This is so dumb,” I mutter from the back seat of Chris’s car, hunched low like some B-movie detective.
Chris adjusts his rearview mirror, eyes locked on the front entrance. “You won’t be saying that when you’re cozying up to Tatum later.”
My heart squeezes at the thought. Seeing as how the last time I saw her, I flipped the fuck out and assaulted her boyfriend, I’m pretty confident there won’t be any cozying. Still, one can hope. At the very least, I just want a chance to explain myself and make amends.
“What if they’ve already gone and we’ve missed them?” Jace asks, sounding hopeful. “I mean, they left our place forty minutes ago.”
Chris shakes his head and motions around the half-empty lot. “We would’ve seen them.”
“What can they possibly be doing?” I groan.
Damon snorts. “You don’t have a girlfriend, and it shows.”
“Dick,” I mutter under my breath.
“He’s not wrong,” Jace says, scrolling through his phone.
“When chicks get ready together, it’s like a free-for-all.
They’ll try on each other’s clothes, do each other’s hair, bitch about us or classes or world peace, and the drink of the week at Java.
Nothing’s off-limits, and it can either take them five minutes to get ready or five hours. You never know what you’re gonna get.”
I sigh, sinking further into my seat.
“I still can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” West says from the passenger seat as he stares down at the worn-out novel he’s reading, not even bothering to lift his head. “I mean, don’t you think spying on them, and then following them is a little fucked up?”
Chris tears his gaze away from the entrance long enough to shoot him an incredulous look. “Dude, you make it sound like we’re peeping in their windows or some shit. All we’re doing is watching a car.”
“A car belonging to girls who specifically didn’t invite us to hang out with them,” Damon points out.
“Details.” Chris waves dismissively, then rips open a bag of Skittles. “They love us. So, why wouldn’t they be thrilled to spend more time with us? It’s not like they never have girl time. We’re crashing just this once.”
Jace snorts while Chris digs into the bag of candy, and the car falls silent save for the sound of Chris’s munching, which I try my best to ignore while staring out the window and thinking of what I’ll say to Tatum when I get the chance. She can’t stay mad at me for long, especially not over this.
Could I have handled myself better? Sure.
But Ethan had it coming.
Everything I did was to protect her. Everything I’ve ever done has been because I’m in love with her.
I sink further in my seat, praying she’ll forgive me, but the loud crunch of Chris’s chewing makes it hard to think. Every smack of his lips, every crinkle of the candy wrapper, feels like sandpaper against my already frayed nerves.
Crunch. Smack. Crinkle.
“Do you have to eat those so fucking loud?” I snap, glaring at the back of his head.
Chris meets my eyes in the rearview mirror, purposely shoving another handful in his mouth with exaggerated chewing. “Sorry, am I bothering you?” he asks, around another lip-smacking crunch.
“That’s it.” I lunge forward, snatching the bag from his hands, vindicated as rainbow-colored candies spill across the back seat.
“What the hell, dude?” Chris twists around, making a grab for the bag that I hold just out of reach. “Give those back!”
“Not until you learn how to eat like a human being instead of a garbage disposal with a microphone.”
Damon snickers beside me, and West just shakes his head as Chris’s face contorts with indignation.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Chris drawls. “Is the sound of me enjoying a snack too much for your delicate sensibilities? You’re just hangry because Tatum won’t talk to you.”
“That makes no sense. Hangry means hungry and angry, so Tatum ignoring me is entirely different.”
“Nope. You’re hungry for Tatum. You’re lohangry. Love hungry, and angry.”
“That’s not a thing.” I shake my head and hold the Skittles further away when he makes a lunge for them.
“Oh, it’s definitely a thing,” Chris says, shouting now. “You’re the literal definition of love hungry. Look at you. Your face is all flushed, and the muscle in your jaw is all twitchy. You’ve even got the angry bulging forehead vein thing going on,” he says, motioning to my forehead.
“Fuck off.” I shove the bag of candy back at him, because he’s probably right. I am love hungry.
“Children,” Jace says with a sigh. “I’m sitting in a car with actual children.”
“Says the guy who cried when Brynn beat him at beer pong last weekend,” Damon chimes in with a smirk.
“I didn’t fucking cry,” Jace protests, whipping around. “I had something in my eye!”
“Sure you did.” Chris laughs.
“Hey, at least I don’t write poetry about the color of my girlfriend’s eyes like some lovesick—”
“One time!” Damon throws his hands up. “I wrote one poem after we got back together, and you assholes will never let me live it down.”
“It was fourteen verses.” Chris snorts, digging a hand in his monster bag of Skittles. “You compared her eyes to the ocean at sunset and her laugh to—what was it again?”
“‘Wind chimes on a summer breeze,’” I supply helpfully, my mood lifting slightly at Damon’s obvious discomfort.
“I hate all of you,” Damon mutters.
“It’s times like these, I’m so glad I don’t have a girlfriend,” West mumbles.
“Oh, just you wait. It’ll happen,” Chris says.
“And when it does, she’ll have your balls in a vise grip just like the rest of us,” Damon adds.
“Speak for yourself. My balls aren’t in a vise grip,” I say, and they all laugh at my expense.
“Bullshit,” Damon gasps, clutching at his stomach. “Your balls are so deep in Tatum’s pocket she doesn’t even know she has them yet.”
“At least I’m not writing poetry about wind chimes,” I shoot back.
“No, you’re just stalking a girl who won’t text you back,” Jace mutters.
“It’s not stalking if she’s your best friend,” I argue. “It’s . . . concerned reconnaissance.”
West snorts. “That’s some CIA-level justification right there.”
“You know what—” I start, but Damon interrupts.
“Hey, isn’t that them?” He points toward the dorm entrance where a group of girls has emerged.
“Oh shit,” Chris hisses, ducking down slightly. “Everyone act normal.”
“What exactly does ‘normal’ look like in this scenario?” Jace asks dryly. “Five guys crammed in a parked car for no reason?”
“Just shut up,” Chris whispers, peering through the windshield. “They’re heading for Liz’s SUV.”
I strain to see through the darkness, but Damon shoves my head down with his hand.
“Get off me,” I growl, slapping Damon’s hand away. “I can’t see—”
My words die in my throat at the sound of a sharp rap against the driver’s side window.
All five of us freeze when Charlotte’s face appears in the glass, her expression a dangerous mix of surprise and suspicion. Behind her, I can barely make out the silhouettes of a scowling Brynn and Liz.
Chris yelps, the sound so high-pitched, it would put a five-year-old girl to shame.
His hand is frozen halfway to his mouth with a Skittle pinched between his fingers.
“Maybe if we ignore them, they’ll leave,” he whispers, staring straight ahead as though Charlotte isn’t literally two feet away, clearly able to see him through the window.
“This isn’t fucking preschool,” I hiss, leaning between the seats. “Just because we close our eyes, doesn’t mean we’re suddenly invisible.”
Charlotte knocks again, more insistently this time, and mouths something that looks a lot like, Open the damn window.
“We’re so busted,” Damon mutters under his breath.
The soft whir of the window fills the answering silence as Chris holds the button down, allowing the chilly October air to slice through the car.
Chris straightens in his seat, clearing his throat as an awkward laugh spills from his lips. “Oh, hey babe. What a nice surprise!”
She arches a brow, her lips pinched.
“We were just chilling. You know, getting some fresh air and, uh . . . snacks,” he says, raising the bag of Skittles as evidence.
Behind Charlotte, Brynn’s brows rise. “Outside our dorm. In the dark. Huddled down inside your car?”
“Yep.” Chris nods, and I bang my forehead against the leather headrest.
“You morons!” Charlotte cries out as she bops him on the head with the palm of her hand. “I knew you were going to do this.”
“Do what?” Chris asks, his face a mask of feigned innocence.
“Don’t play dumb.” She leans into the car, her gaze darting between us. “I know you planned on following us tonight. I’ve known the whole time because you’re that obvious.”
Chris gasps like he’s auditioning for a soap opera. “You seriously think we’d follow you? That is . . . that’s just . . . I would never!”
Charlotte crosses her arms over her chest. “Uh-huh.”
“We just needed to get out of the apartment because Brandon’s depressed.” He hooks a thumb toward me, and I wave. “So we went for a drive, then ended up here. Now we’re just talking and hanging out. You know, having a little guy time.”
“In the parking lot of our dorm?” Brynn asks, eyeing Jace, who’s shrinking lower and lower into his seat.
“Oh. Is that where we ended up?” Chris asks, squinting out the windshield. “Crazy.”
Charlotte rolls her eyes. “Listen, we’re about to go pick Tatum up, and she cannot see you guys following us.”
Chris drums his fingers over the steering wheel. “You’re picking up Tatum? Interesting.”
“Cut the crap, Collins!” Charlotte snaps.
Chris opens his mouth to say something else, but there’s no point in pretending, so I lean forward and ask, “Has she . . . has she said anything about me?”
Charlotte’s expression shifts with a flicker of uncertainty. She glances back at the girls, who all give subtle shrugs.
“Look,” she finally says as she turns back around with a sigh, “if you want the truth, I’m Team Brandon. But she’s committed to Ethan, and we basically have to support her, even if we don’t all agree with her choices.”
I wonder if they know about the bruises . . .?