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“You’re worried about the blonde?” Koda says.
“He’s using her to get at me. She’s fucking crying about it.” They fall quiet. “It’s about a hockey spot, and she’s—”
“Yeah,” Koda breathes. “That’s fucked.”
“I’m not into her,” I say. “But it’s––”
“Nobody said you were into her,” Koda says. “Rafe, did you say he was into her?”
“I didn’t say a word.”
“Neither did I,” Koda says.
“Good,” I say. “Because I’m not.”
Koda blows out hot air.
Rafe says, “Kill him with kindness.”
I nod. I guess it’s a start.
Rafe goes to sleep around one. I don’t. I sit at my desk with homework open until my brain won’t do it anymore. On Tuesday I’ll go back to that table and sit across from Greeley, who told me exactly what he was going to do to me and has been right about all of it so far, and I’ll say hello.
My phone has been face down next to my notebook since nine-forty. I turn it over. Nothing. Dad at six, about the Bruins. Koda in the group chat at midnight, posting a picture of a pretzel.
I turn off the light and lie there thinking about a blonde sitting on a cold step in a stairwell saying I’m so stupid, and how fast I said no.
13
New Number, Who Dis
Kylie
When I wake up, the first thing in my head is the stairwell: his arms in that shirt, how quiet he was while I cried, and then his low voice telling me Declan wasn’t worth the salt. It sounded like he meant it. Then I remember what he said about Declan, and the rink, and I decide I’m not going to read into any of it before coffee.
Tessa is at her desk with her headphones on. This girl has the most disciplined routine I’ve ever seen. If she doesn’t get straight A’s, I’m going to physically remove her from this room, because as far as I can tell, all she does is study.
The group chat is still dissecting Friday night, and Paige is firing a hundred questions at me, so I tell them we can hang out later. It’s Saturday, so they’re bored and impatient, and they knock on my door right after lunch and let themselves in.
Tessa looks up once, says hi, appears to count them, and goes back to her laptop. Bianca takes the floor with her back against my bed, Kenzie takes my desk chair, and Paige sits on my bed with a pillow in her lap. I cross my legs at the other end.
“Okay,” Paige says. “Did you read our texts?”
“I skimmed.”
She rolls her eyes. “Here’s what you do. Next party Declan throws, you tell everybody there exactly what he said in that kitchen. Out loud. In front of his whole team.”
“I don’t know what he said in the kitchen.”
That stops her. “What?”
“Nash didn’t tell me. He said Declan got my number in four minutes while he was standing right there and said it was a good start. I asked if there was more, and he said yes. I asked if it was bad, and he said yes. And then he didn’t say anything else.”
“And you didn’t get it out of him?”
“No.”
“Why?” Paige scoffs because she cannot handle any information being withheld.
