Page 52 of The Lost Kings
Gio and I shared a car,and while it wasn’t brand-new, it was something we were proud of. We’d been restoring the 1969 Camaro for the past year and were finally able to drive it. We were in the student parking lot, waiting for school to be out, so we could watch Presley get picked up by Scotty, and then we could finally head home but someone slapping the hood of our car had us both dropping our phones and gaping out the windshield.
“Can you guys give me a ride home?” Presley ducked her head, staring into the passenger side window while holding the straps of her backpack. She wore black leggings, a cropped sweatshirt and Doc Martens. Her hair was braided in two symmetrical rows, and her lashes were thicker and darker than normal. In fact, her cheeks looked brighter, and her brows were fuller too. Was she wearing makeup?
Panic ran through me at the realization, but I couldn’t even focus on it because her demeanor was sad and deflated. It made my gut sink as Gio opened his door and slid his seat forward for her to crawl inside the back.
A few onlookers glanced our way, likely wondering why she was with us when during school we made it a point not to be seen together. We took off and Gio spun around in his seat, facing her. His window was down, which made pieces of her hair blow around.
“What’s wrong?”
We both knew what was likely bothering her. The guy who had flirted with her yesterday was now giving her the cold shoulder and ignoring her. Just like every other guy who’d acted even remotely interested in her.
Her lip trembled from where I saw in the rearview mirror. Even that looked more glossy than usual. It didn’t matter that she was wearing makeup; it just bugged me because she had never needed to wear it. Ever since attending school, she was suddenly worried about how she looked, and it made me fucking crazy.
She sounded so hopeless as she tugged at her backpack strap. “I think maybe you guys were right about this being a bad idea…”
Gio glanced over at me while I kept my eyes on the road.
“They’re all idiots, Pres.”
She sniffed, and my heart felt like it was going to combust. I could count on one hand the number of times Presley James cried throughout her life. Never had she cried during the times Scotty had pushed her in training. She hadn’t shed a tear when she was sent into the woods in shorts, bare feet, and nothing but a T-shirt on in the dead of winter. She was given two hours to secure clothing and food. I’d never forget her showing up half a day later, blue lips, bloody feet and a fucking smile on her face.
She’d only ever cried after Scotty had to put one of his dogs down due to cancer, when she watchedMy Girl,and that time Gio broke her seashells.
That was it.
I flicked my eyes to the rearview mirror and saw two salty tears trail down her cheeks and I pulled the car off to the side of the road.
“Heyyyy,” she whined, while Gio cursed.
I got out of the car and slammed my seat forward, while crawling into the back seat and then pulling my door closed. Gio slid over the seat until he was sitting next to her, and I was on the opposite side, sandwiching her between us.
The tinted windows hid us as we all crowded the back seat, the low music blocked out the strange silence that hung in the air. This was new for us, and delicate…it felt as dangerous as stepping in a minefield. Something had been brewing among the three of us, and while Gio and I hadn’t fought about it yet, it was only a matter of time. Because he looked at her the way I did, and I knew his chest caved in at the thought of her one day leaving us behind, just like mine did.
This was more than friendship, and it could ruin us.
“No one likes me.” Presley hiccupped, swiping at her face. “I thought I could make friends, but it’s been weeks, and no one likes me. No girls and no guys. I’m never going to go on a date. I’m not going to prom, and I’m not ever going to get kissed.”
She was crying so hard she had begun to shake, and her voice cracked.
I glanced over at my brother, who was already watching me. It took me back two years when we were on that balcony in Mexico, and Presley had talked about leaving us behind. I’d known he’d pushed me in the water because I was flirting with her, but that moment when we’d looked at each other and silently acknowledged each other’s pain still haunted me.
This moment felt the same.
“Presley, you’re not crying over those assholes who can’t shoot the hat off a stuffed squirrel from five hundred yards away.”
She sniffed. “That’s only when I have the long-range rifle.”
“They still couldn’t do it,” Gio said, using his thumb to swipe her tear from one cheek, so I did the other. She didn’t react to how we both had touched her, and maybe throughout our lives we’d given her that exact feeling a thousand times, and it didn’t feel any different to her. It felt monumental to me, and I was positive it did to Gio as well.
Things were changing.
We may have agreed to protect her when Scotty had asked us, but we were already in too deep not to watch out for her. We would have done this whether he asked us or not.
Presley placed both her hands over her face and groaned. “I’m so embarrassed. I begged my parents for this opportunity, only to be a total loser and repel absolutely everyone I meet.”
“Come on, Elvis, you’re not being fair to yourself.” Gio shook her thigh, but she only sniffed again.
“If I can’t even do this, what makes anyone think I can lead a family?”
