The Art of Being Friends Page 6

  She arches a brow. “You sure about that? You kind of sound … I don’t know, deflated.”

  “Well, I’m not.” I force a cheery tone, but it’s completely obvious that it’s forced.

  God, I suck. It’s a good thing I don’t work undercover.

  She gives a dramatic sigh, walking backward in front of me. “Okay, first rule of us being friends is we can’t lie to each other. I loathe liars. It’s like a deal breaker for me.”

  I press my lips together with uncertainty. While I want to tell her about the message, that’ll also lead to me telling her about my past. And I can’t do that right now. Not when she just implied we could be friends.

  “It really is nothing,” I say, my boots scuffing against the sidewalk. “I just …” I blow out an exhale as she stares me down hard. Like really, really hard. “Dude, you seriously have the scariest interrogation face ever.”

  “Oh, I know,” she assures me confidentially. “I learned from the best. I also learned how to crack someone open from the best.”

  “Who’s the best?” I ask, curious and also trying to change the subject.

  She drags her finger across her lips. “Nope. Not telling until you do.”

  I hesitate, unsure what to do. Back in the day, before my parents died, I used to have friends. I think I might be out of practice now.

  “I got this weird message,” I reply vaguely. “But it’s not really a bad deal.”

  A crease forms between her brow. “What’d it say?”

  I chew on my bottom lip, deliberating how much I should confess. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to ask questions, so I don’t have to lie. Because I can’t tell you much about it. Not yet anyway.”

  She squints against the sunlight as she studies me closely. “Okay, I think I can do that.”

  A breath eases from my lips as I retrieve my phone from out of my pocket and hand it to her. She takes the phone from me, reads it, then glances up at me with question marks filling her eyes.

  “I …” She smashes her lips together, pausing. “You have no idea who it’s from?”

  I shrug. “My best bet is my cousin had someone send it to me.”

  “Your cousin?” she asks. “Wait—is she blonde and kind of a bitch?”

  I nod. “Yep. That’d be the one.”

  “She’s the one you were worried about giving the makeup case, too, right?”

  I nod again.

  “Why do you think it’s her? And why did you guys move here at the same time, if you don’t mind me asking.”

  “You’re fine.” In fact, her questions aren’t that awful. Well, unless they lead to certain kinds of follow-up questions. “I think it’s her because she threatens to tell people stuff about me all the time. And usually, she does. And we moved here at the same time because I live with her family.”

  She hesitates. “Where’s your family?”

  Anxiety clutches my throat. “They … They died a while ago.”

  Pity fills her eyes as she slows to a stop near the curb. “I’m sorry.” She swallows audibly. “My mom died, too, when I was born, actually, during childbirth.”

  I stop in front of her, my heart aching for her. “I’m sorry.”

  She dismisses me with a shrug. “You don’t need to say you’re sorry. I just wanted to tell you so you’d know that I kind of understand what it feels like to lose someone. Not that I ever knew my mom.” She mutters the last part then turns around and starts walking again, across the parking lot.

  A few people are here and there, and I catch some of them glancing my way. It makes me cringe. Do they know who I am? Do they know what I did?

  I hurry up and walk beside Harlow. “Just because you never knew her, doesn’t mean you can’t be sad over it. You still lost time with her.”

  She glances at me with a small smile on her face. “Thanks. I know this is going to sound weird, but I kind of needed to hear that.”

  “It doesn’t sound weird at all.” Honestly, it’s what I wish someone would’ve said to me.

  Her lips pull up into a half-smile. Then she loops her arms through mine and practically starts skipping. “Yeah, you and I are definitely going to become friends,” she declares with great confidence. “And I might have a solution to your little texting problem. Or, at least, a way to figure out who’s texting you.”

  “Really?” I inquire with intrigue.

  She nods, strands of her hair falling into her eyes. “Yep. I know people.”

  “What sort of people?” I wonder as we slow down beside the most gorgeous baby blue Camaro I’ve ever seen.

  My dad was really into classic cars and had a firebird he was fixing up before he died. It was around the same year as this Camaro and looked similar.

  Memories start to stir inside me, but I hastily stifle them, not wanting to lose my shit in front of the first potential friend I’ve had in years.

  “People who can find out all sorts of secrets. Even secrets people have worked really hard to bury.” She lets out a wicked laugh that echoes across the parking lot.

  I can’t help laughing, and she grins, fishing her phone from her back pocket.

  “Let me just send them a text and see if they’re down.” She starts to type a message, but then pauses, glancing up at me. “As long as you’re cool with that.”

  I dither. “Will this person respect my request not to have to answer questions about the text?”

  She nods. “If I tell them to, they will.”

  “How much will they charge me?”

  “Nothing, since you’re going through me.”

  I’m still reluctant. “But even if I find out who sent the text, does it really even matter? I mean, it’s not like I can make them keep my secret a secret.”

  A sly smile curls at her lips. “Wanna bet?”

  Again, I’m intrigued. “No. Not with that creepy smile you just gave me.”

  She laughs. “So, you down then?”

  Am I? Because truthfully, this is all sort of weird. I mean, who is this girl who knows people who can track numbers and keep people quiet?

  Then again, I’m the girl that’s responsible for her parents getting killed, so who am I to judge? Plus, if Dixie May is the culprit behind the messages, maybe Harlow can help me get her to shut her mouth.

  Yeah, I like the sound of that.

  “All right, let’s do it,” I tell her.

  And once again, for the second time today, I’m left crossing my fingers that this decision doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.

  9

  Hunter

  Picking up the forms for basketball ends up not taking as long as I thought, since the coach ended up having to run home for something. He likes to chitchat a lot so, without his commentary as the team members are filling out forms, it goes by quicker. Like, a hell of a lot quicker.

  In fact, if I hurry my ass up, I might be able to grab a bite to eat instead of going to the cafeteria like I’d plan. Of course, since I let Harlow borrow my car, I’ll have to walk to someplace close by.

  Dammit, I really didn’t think this through very well.

  Still, walking somewhere is better than eating cafeteria food, even if I have to do it alone since Zay and Jax got in-school suspension for getting caught ditching third period.

  “Hunter!” someone shouts behind me as I head for the exit doors.

  When I peer over my shoulder, I spot this girl, Katy, that I hooked up with at a party jogging after me down the hallway.

  “Shit,” I mutter, quickening my pace. The last thing I need is to waste my lunchtime dealing with drama, something that always comes by talking to Katy.

  I hate that I put myself in these situations, and sadly, I kind of have a habit of it. It’s why Jax was so harsh with me when he caught me wanting to talk to Ravenlee. I have a knack for hooking up then the girl getting pissed when I don’t want to be in a relationship. And I feel bad, but at the same time, I’m way too messed up to be able to be a decent boyfriend. N
ot to mention even the idea of getting close to anyone scares the hell out of me.

  “Hunter!” she shouts again. “I need to talk to you!”

  My phone buzzes from inside my pocket, but I ignore it as I burst out the door and quicken my pace to a jog, heading for the sidewalk that lines the front of the school. When I spot my car still parked in the parking lot, I veer right and rush over to it, wondering if Harlow changed her mind about leaving for lunch.

  As I near it, though, I see Harlow standing by the trunk with her phone in her hand. And she’s not alone. A girl is standing beside her with her back turned toward me—a girl with hair like raven feathers and legs that go on for miles.

  Raven.

  I hesitate for a fleeting moment, remembering what happened between her and Zay this morning. Not that I blame Raven—Zay can be a dick sometimes—but I also know he’d get pissed at me if he knew I was hanging out with her.

  “Hunter!” Katy yells from across the parking lot, causing everyone in the vicinity to look at me, including Harlow and Raven, who appear confused at first, but then Harlow’s gaze zeroes in on Katy running after me.

  “Oh my God.” She busts up laughing.

  “Just shut it,” I hiss as I reach her. “And get me out of here, please.” When she doesn’t budge, I grow impatient. “Harlow,” I warn.

  “Oh, fine.” She hurries to the driver’s side. “But I’m driving. And you owe me a favor.” She gives Raven this weird smile from over the roof, to which Raven looks at her like she’s crazy, something that’s a pretty common occurrence around Harlow and has made it difficult for her to make friends. So that leaves me wondering how her and Raven ended up together. Not that I’m going to take the time to ask right now. Nope. I just slip my fingers through Raven’s and tug her toward the passenger side of the car.

  She gapes at me as she stumbles after me. “What’re you doing?”

  I yank open the door. “Making a quick exit.” Then I slide into the front bench seat and drag her in with me, maybe with a little too much force because she ends up falling on top of me. I don’t bother trying to help her sit up; I just yank the door shut and yell at Harlow to, “Drive!”

  Laughing her ass off, Harlow revs up the engine and peels out of the parking space, right as Katy reaches the back end of my car. She puts her hands on her hips and glares at us as we speed away.

  Deep down, I know this little ditching attempt is only temporary and that she’ll find me at school sometime soon and probably be more pissed off than she was to begin with. But what can I say? I like to procrastinate when it comes to this type of stuff.

  I let out a breath of relief. “Man, that was close.”

  Raven sits up, her fingers still tangled with mine. “Did you really have to pull me in so hard?”

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” I apologize. “I kind of panicked.”

  “Really?” she mocks. “Because you seemed so collected to me.”

  Harlow busts up laughing while I crack a small smile. Damn, I forgot how amusing this girl’s mouth is. Of course, if she’s friends with Harlow, there’s definitely no way I can try to hook up with her now. I’m not about to be responsible for ruining the first potential friendship my sister has had in a while. Plus, I’d feel like an asshole if I added more sadness to Raven’s beautiful big eyes, and that sort of stuff is my MO.

  “Hey, I think I handled being chased by a total lunatic really well,” I insist through a bit of laughter.

  Raven’s brow curves upward. “Why’s she a total lunatic?”

  I give her a really? look. “She just chased me through the school hallway and across the parking lot.”

  “You didn’t have to run from her,” she reminds me. “You could’ve just heard what she had to say.”

  “I pretty much know what she has to say,” I mumble with a sigh.

  “How?” she questions. “Because you’re a mind reader.”

  Harlow giggles. “Dude, he probably thinks he is.”

  I lean forward and elevate my brows. “I think that? You literally tried to convince me you were one like an hour ago.”

  “That’s because I am one,” she quips with a sassy smile.

  Raven laughs at that.

  Great. I’m outnumbered.

  Maybe I should’ve taken my chances with Katy.

  No, I take that back.

  “Why were you running from her anyway?” Raven wonders, reclining back in the seat with her eyes trained on me.

  I’ll admit, it’s a lot to take in—her full attention on me. I know this is going to sound odd, but usually, when people look at me, they’re not really looking at me. Or, well, what’s underneath my good looks and wealth. Raven, though, she genuinely wants to know the answer to her question, wants to know what’s going on with me.

  It’s hard to take in.

  And I really don’t want to tell her, because it’ll make me sound bad. And I don’t want to sound bad to her.

  “I already told you—because she’s a total lunatic.” I give a teasing grin.

  Her lips quirk into an adorable half-grin. “Okay, say she is a total lunatic; that still doesn’t explain in detail why she was chasing you across a school parking lot.”

  I don’t want to tell her, don’t want to explain to her that I hooked up with Katy and that it more than likely has something to do with that.

  “He probably hooked up with her,” Harlow chimes in. “And now she wants to be boyfriend and girlfriend.” She sneers the last part.

  I slant forward to glare at Harlow, but she only gives a cheeky grin.

  “Thanks for that,” I tell her dryly.

  “You’re welcome,” she replies cheerfully. “I don’t know why you’re trying to keep your manwhore status a secret. Katy already told Raven all about you and your friends.”

  My gaze drifts to Raven. “You talked to Katy?”

  She nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It was right before I met Harlow.”

  “And she told you about me, Zay, and Jax?” I question.

  What a brave, stupid girl. Katy, I mean. She should know better than to gossip about me and my friends. If word gets back to Zay, he’ll want to retaliate. Not like physically or anything like that. No, Zay likes to plot his revenge way more discreetly, through hacking and destroying people’s lives via the internet.

  “What all did she tell you?” I ask Raven while stretching my arm across the back of the seat, right behind her.

  She lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know. She basically just said you guys were scary and that I should stay away from you. She also already told me you two hooked up.”

  “She really told you that.”

  “Yep. And she didn’t seem that pleased when I said you and I had talked to each other.”

  The corners of my lips twitch. “You told her you talked to me?”

  “Yeah …” A crease forms between her brow. “What’s so weird about that?”

  “I don’t know …” I bite back my amusement, telling myself not to say the words that are burning on the tip of my tongue. Apparently, though, I have self-control issues, which I guess really isn’t new news. “I was just thinking about how I must’ve been stuck on your mind.”

  “Oh my God,” Harlow groans, her head bobbing back. “I think I’m gonna puke. Seriously, dude, is that how you get so many girls to swoon over you? Because, if it is, then I’ve lost all hope for the female population.”

  Raven smiles at that, and so do I.

  “What?” I say innocently. “I was just saying something that’s probably pretty true.”

  “No way,” Raven says amusedly. “You weren’t stuck on my mind. Katy brought you guys up because she saw what happened between me and Zay in class. Speaking of which”—she rotates in the seat, bringing her leg up so her knee is pressing into the side of my leg, then she rests her elbow on the back of the seat, bringing herself closer to me, I wish on purpose, but I think she’s just attempting to get comfortable—“aren’t
you going to get in trouble for talking to me?”

  “With Zay?” I ask, and she nods. I dismiss her with a flick of my wrist. “Nah. I mean, he might not be happy at first, but he’ll get over it.”

  “You sure about that?” she questions, elevating her brow. “Because he seemed pretty pissed off. Plus, your friend Jax kind of told you to stay away from me.”

  I waver, nibbling on my bottom lip. “That’s not what that was about.”

  “Then what was it about?” she inquires.

  I shrug, not wanting to tell her the truth, that Jax was basically warning me not to screw her or I’d probably end up with another Katy situation on my hands. Not that Raven is like Katy. Honestly, if I hadn’t been drunk that night, I never would’ve slept with Katy—she’s not my type—but I messed up, like I usually do when I’m drunk. I do it a lot when I’m sober, too.

  “You’re such screw up,” my dad tells me, like he does all the time. “You have all the opportunities in the world, and all you do is piss them away.”

  He says shit like that all the time. Then he would leave the house, leave her with me. Diane. And while she didn’t use to abuse me verbally, she did everything in her power to break me.

  I yank myself away from memory lane and breathe in relief as we arrive at the diner.

  Thank God. A distraction from my problems.

  “So, has Harlow told you anything about this place?” I ask Raven, latching on to the opportunity to change the subject.

  She notices, not answering right away, simply staring at me, assessing me. But then she lets it go, her gaze traveling to the old-school diner.

  The windows are decorated with neon lights, the waitresses wear roller skates, and to order, you park near the marquee and the waitress brings your food to your car on a tray.

  “She said they have the best fries,” Raven answers while studying the menu. She gets this weird, almost panicked look on her face and sinks her teeth into her bottom lip.

  “They have great milkshakes, too,” I tell her, rolling down my window and letting the autumn breeze blow in.

  “I think I’m just gonna get fries,” she tells me. “I’m not really that hungry.”