Page 48 of Lost Boy
“Probably not after last time,” he says dryly.
“Fair point, but I got you, really. You know you can trust me. I won’t let you out of my sight. You’ll have to piss in front of me too. And I won’t close my eyes. I’ll just keep them at eye level.”
He snorts like he always does. “Stop. I’ll go.”
Score!
“Sweet. Alright, well, just to warn you, it’s a Jefferson High party this time.”
He doesn’t react, which isn’t unusual, but I feel the need to clarify. “The public school.”
Nothing.
“Dustin the cunt will be there.”
His normally guarded eyes dart up to mine, flashing brightly for a moment. He’s angry.
“No takebacks. You have to go with me.” It’s immature, but I want to hang out with him, and all of my friends will be at the JHS party on the lake.
It’s technically public property down by the shore, but it’s put together by the girls over at Jefferson every year before the playoffs start. It can be fun, but they always get drunk and giggly and pressure me to hook up. Especially Cassandra. It makes me uncomfortable. And never works.
“There’s a bonfire,” I tell him, mistaking his silence for disagreement.
He reaches over and dips a handful of his own fries into my ranch cup, humming his approval when he tries it. I smirk; everything tastes better dipped in ranch. Wait ’til he tries pizza.
“Said I would go,” he mumbles around a mouthful.
That was easy. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he echoes.
“I need to run to my place after school to get ready, but I’ll drop you off, then come back and get you before the party.”
Fallon just nods, continuing to dip his food into my ranch. I normally don’t like double-dippers, and I normally wouldn’t be too happy with someone eating my precious ranch, but Fallon can get away with anything as far as I’m concerned.
“Did I hearparty?” Cole asks as he drops his tray in front of us, plopping down and bumping the table, causing our drinks to rattle.
“Yeah. We’re going to the Jefferson party tonight.”
He grins wide, his hazel eyes twinkling and his shaggy light brown hair looking extra messy. My eyes dart to the cafeteria entrance as Gracie Sinclair casually struts in, subtly fixing her uniform skirt and smoothing her long auburn hair. She’s a cheerleader and Cole’s on-again-off-again girlfriend.
“Seriously?” I complain. He spirals into recklessness every time she gives him a scrap of attention and then takes it away. I hope it lasts longer than a lunch-period hookup this time. I swear this happens once a month, and it’s probably overdue.
“She was begging for it, Ry. You know I’m a pleaser,” Cole tips his head back and cackles loudly, drawing attention like always. Gracie’s eyes dart to our table and narrow. It doesn’t look good for Cole.
I sigh, expecting the worst from him tonight after the death glare he just received. There’s no point in bursting his bubble now. I’m sure she’ll corner him before next period. Jamie and I have learned to stay out of Cole and Gracie’s relationship drama.
“Laughing at your own jokes again?” Jamie asks, taking his seat next to Cole.
“Nah. Not jokes. Just realities. My girl can’t stay off this dick.”
“Dude. How many times have I told you not to kiss and tell? You shouldn’t talk about Gracie like that,” Jamison chastises.
“We didn’t kiss! Unless you count oral.”
Cole can be a pig; there’s no denying that. Jamie and I try to help him be better. I glance at Fallon out of the corner of my eye to gauge his reaction, but it’s useless. He’s completely shut down.
Fallon is a fortress with steel shutters, reinforced doors, and a panic room in the basement. He continues eating his lunch, ignoring the drama around him, which I like.
