Page 32 of Pretty Lethal
He smirks at me. “She made you stand there?” he asks, his question clearly rhetorical as humor glitters in his eyes. I nod anyway. “Yeah, she did the same with us too. Took all the fun out of being able to tell people I was learning ninja stabbing skills.”
Hadley rolls her eyes, forcing her lips into a flat line. She’s clearly heard his grumblings a time or two. “Footwork and balance are the two most important aspects. None of the rest matters if you can’t stay on your feet and inflict maximum damage with each strike.”
I’ve heard her say the exact same thing so many times today that it’s tattooed on my brain at this point. Cam smirks knowingly at me.
“Yeah, yeah, babe. I remember. If anyone needs the reminder, it’s Hawk.”
“Why?” I question as we head out of the sports center and over to the parking lot.
“Grouchy bastard was next to impossible to deal with,” Cam says with a laugh.
“God, he was an asshole,” Hadley agrees, even though she smiles tenderly at the memory. “Refused to take on board anything I had to say. Was insistent he knew what was right, and I was wrong.” She shakes her head as Cam belts out a loud bark of laughter.
“Dude couldn’t get through a session without storming off in a huff.”
“So naturally, you all antagonized him until he was a pent-up funnel of anger,” I retort with arched brows, forcing my lips not to quirk into a grin.
“Obviously,” Cam states shamelessly. “Pissing him the fuck off is my favorite pastime. It would have been wrong of menotto antagonize him.”
We spend most of the drive back to the brownstone laughing our heads off as Hadley and Cam regale me with stories from the last four years of them poking at Hawk until he lost his cool, and maybe it seems mean, but I have to agree with them. Itisfun to poke him until he snaps. Especially when it ends with both of us naked and him punishing me with the freaking Anaconda in his pants.
Although, I deliberately don’t share that with Hadley. It’s been a good day. I don’t need to end it by seeing a regurgitated form of her lunch.
* * *
All four ofus stare down at the three near-identical invitations on the kitchen table.
“I take it we’re all going?” I ask.
“Wilder has to go, and I’m going with him,” Hawk states. “I still think you should stay home.”
Not a chance in hell!
“I wasn’t invited,” Kai says, not sounding the slightest bit bothered.
“It says we’re allowed to bring one guest.” I point to the fine print at the bottom of the invitation. “I think we should all go.” When the others give me a skeptical look, I explain, “Four sets of eyes are better than two. Wilder can go because, well, he has to. Hawk can go to represent the Davenports, and Kai can come as my date. No one will know who he is, and he’s not a student, so it’s perfect. That way he can keep an eye on everyone in case anything happens.”
It is literally the perfect plan.
And they damn well know it too, which is why none of them have anything solid to refute it with.
“Fine,” Kai eventually blows out. “We’ll all go. How bad can it be?”
Hawk scoffs. “If it’s anything like the pretentious-as-fuck parties my parents used to throw, pretty damn bad. Especially given that we can’t slink off to the pool house and get drunk.”
I’m guessing that’s what he and the others did any time their parents threw parties. I vaguely remember hearing about them when we were at Pac—not that I was ever invited. Scholarship students aren’t exactly theright typeof guest people want at these sorts of events.
Kai’s face scrunches, and he looks even less like he wants to attend this party. However, he knows as well as I do that it’s a prime opportunity for us to gather information, so he’ll suck it up, put on a fancy suit that will no doubt make him look like a mixture between James Bond and Clark Kent, and flash that boy-next-door smile of his all night.
Oh, shit.I only have three days to find the perfect outfit befitting someone who is going to be gracing James Bond-Clark Kent’s arm. Plus, I have classes all day tomorrow and Friday and important snooping to do.
Muttering excuses to the guys, I grab Kai’s laptop and hurry to my room to do some online shopping for Saturday night.
Chapter10
EMILIA
Islam the book shut, groaning as I add it to the others spread out on my bed, none of which have the answers I seek. Checking the time on my phone, I curse when I realize it’s two a.m. I’m going to be a zombie in the morning, although that explains my gritty eyes and the headache currently blooming.
