He doesn’t even try to deny it.
The girl rolls her eyes. “Isaiah is plenty arrogant. You’re measuring him against you and Torres. Everyone is humble compared to you two.”
Silas doesn’t reply, and the girl’s eyes shift to me, specifically to the arm around my shoulders. She’s petite and gorgeous with perfectly symmetrical features, and I feel like a mess in comparison. I haven’t even looked in a mirror since I was handcuffed and hauled off to the sheriff’s department.
She holds out a hand and smiles. “I’m Stella. You’ll have to introduce yourself because Silas here wouldn’t know manners if they bit him in the ass.”
“Dylan. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Cute,” she says. I don’t know if she means my name, or me, nor do I even know if it’s a compliment. She asks, “Do you go to Rusk?”
“I do, actually. I’m a junior. Or I’ll be a junior when classes start back up. I’m a journalism major, um, with a sociology minor. Potentially pre-law.” Why am I still talking? Why am I telling this girl everything about myself? I grab hold of Matt and pull him up beside me. “This is my friend, Matt. He’s social work. Big football fan apparently.”
She tilts her head to the side and raises her eyebrows at Silas, and I just want to bang something into my face. Repeatedly.
“How do you all know each other?” Stella asks.
Oh you know. PRISON. Or jail. Whatever you call it when you don’t actually leave the police station.
“Um . . .” I fish for a suitable explanation. “We met at a thing.”
A thing. Really smooth.
Silas drops his arm from around my shoulder, and I’ve officially screwed this all up. Where is the nearest oven into which I can stick my head?
It’s probably for the best. I’ll let Matt do his thing, and then we can get out of here.
“You done with the third degree, Stell?”
She stands up straighter and shrugs. “No third degree. I’m just wondering how you leave your own party after . . .” She trails off, but not before giving Silas a look. “How you leave your own party and come back home with two strangers and a bruised face.”
His expression has gone hard, but his words are still light. “What can I say? I make friends everywhere I go.”
She rolls her eyes. “Right. And what exactly did your face make friends with?”
Silas drags a hand through his hair. “Jesus. We met at the police station after I got arrested for beating the shit out of Levi. So, if you don’t mind, I’m not really in the mood to rehash my terrible day. Take your gossip and go.”
He grabs my hand and pulls me into the living room.
Stella calls after him, but he ignores her. A younger guy vacates a recliner, and between one breath and the next, Silas has sat down and pulled me straight onto his lap.
Chapter 6
Silas
Spooked. That’s the look in her eye as I curl a hand over her bare knee and turn her sideways on my lap. She already has big eyes, but now they’re two wide blue oceans set in a heart-shaped face.
“Um, I think I’ll find another seat.”
I tighten my grip on her knee and say, “You see one?”
A frown pulls at her lips as she looks around the packed room. “I’ll just . . .” She shifts like she’s going to stand, but I stop her. I’m f**king this all up. Coming on too strong, pushing her too much. I know it’s crazy. This one girl doesn’t define my place here, but I can’t take another moment today where my shortcomings are thrown in my face. I need this. Need her.
“I’ll be good. I promise.”
“I think we probably have very different definitions of good.”
I laugh at having my own words thrown back at me. And I’m a little puzzled at why she’s still hanging in there with me. If she’s actually as uptight and serious as she seems, she probably wouldn’t have even climbed into my truck. The way she smiles at me from beneath her wild hair makes me feel like what I’m seeing is just what she wants me to see. Maybe I’m not the only one pretending.
“What’s your last name?” I say.
She’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes scanning the room uncomfortably as she answers, “Brenner.”
Brenner. The name sounds familiar. Or maybe it’s just that it flows right in my head. Like she’s one of those people that you have to say their full name every time.
I watch her fingers tangling in her lap for a few moments, and I can see her closing herself up. I grip her h*ps and shift her forward until she stands. I do the same, and then push her back down into the recliner alone. Then I balance myself on the edge of the end table next to her.
“Tell me about yourself, Dylan Brenner.”
She gifts me a smile that just might be grateful, and she shrugs. “You’ve already been party to my most mortifying experience—”
“Are we talking your arrest or that weird verbal diarrhea back there?”
“Oh God.” She covers her eyes with her hands so fast, I can actually hear her palms hit her face. Laughing, I reach out to tug on her braid again. I don’t know what the f**k my problem is, but I can’t stop touching her hair. I don’t want to stop.
“I’m kidding. Besides, it gave me some info. You’re a junior, so that makes you what, twenty? Twenty-one?”
I slip my fingers down her braid, the texture smooth and complicated. She lifts her head out of her hands. “Twenty-one. Just turned in June.”