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turns it toward us, heā€™s pointing at the number representing the army who hang on his every word.

ā€œIf nearly two million IG followers is weak, you can kiss my ass,ā€ he adds.

Surprised, Sterling stares at the number in silence. Pretty sure no oneā€™s ever shut him up quicker than Dane just did.

ā€œWhat timeā€™s this dude supposed to meet you?ā€

I sound tense as hell when asking, but it comes from not hearing from Southside when she got out of practice. Iā€™ve gotten used to checking in, making sure sheā€™s made it home okay. But now that we know our calls and texts are compromised, we agreed to cut off all communication thatā€™s not face-to-face.

Which fucking sucks.

Dane checks the time. ā€œSoon. I should probably head out in a bit.ā€

The magic number is sevenā€”three for us, two for Southside and Scar, one for Joss, and one for that dick, Ricky.

Problem with being a triplet is that the other two seem to read your mind sometimes. Especially when you donā€™t want them to.

ā€œListen, we know you hate the guy, but itā€™s looking like we might need him.ā€

Leave it to Sterling to be the voice of reason.

He takes the football off my dresser, then tosses it. I snatch it out of the air, still zoning out.

ā€œDoesnā€™t mean I have to fucking like it.ā€

He nods when I finish grumbling. ā€œNever said you had to like it, but he knows things we donā€™t and has access to things we donā€™t. Besides, Southside trusts him, soā€¦ā€

ā€œYouā€™ve gotta be fucking kidding me,ā€ I scoff. ā€œLast thing I need is one of you to start fangirling over this asshole, hanging from his nuts and shit.ā€

When I pass the ball to Dane with more power than I mean to, he nearly misses it, but mostly because heā€™s laughing at my grumpy ass.

ā€œRelax. I think Sterlingā€™s just pointing out the obviousā€”that it makes sense to bring him in on things,ā€ he reasons. ā€œBesides, regardless of whether heā€™s still holding on to her, everyone with eyes can see Southsideā€™s not into him anymore.ā€

This just in: Iā€™d level her entire fucking neighborhood if I thought otherwise.

Iā€™m focused on the ball when it soars from Daneā€™s hands to Sterlingā€™s, then back into mine.

Dane laughs to himself. ā€œIf it makes you feel any better, Joss thinks itā€™s ā€˜sweetā€™ that youā€™re jealous.ā€

I donā€™t even respond to that shit, because he knows it doesnā€™t make me feel better.

Sweet, my assā€¦

ā€œWhere is she, anyway?ā€ I ask when he mentions Jossā€™s name. Sheā€™s been hanging with us so much lately it feels weird not having her around, getting on my case about shit.

ā€œThe dance squad got roped into being on the Snow Ball committee,ā€ he answers.

Ah, the Snow Ballā€”Cypress Prepā€™s annual Christmas dance, another bullshit way to syphon money out of the student body. My aversion to this time of year means Iā€™ve never been. Not even once.

ā€œYeah, she can keep that shit,ā€ I grumble, falling back on the mattress after I make a clean pass to Dane.

ā€œSheā€™ll find some way to talk us all into going since sheā€™s involved in the planning. Just accept it. Itā€™ll be less painful,ā€ Dane says.

I donā€™t even have room in my head to think of all the reasons that sounds about as fun as a kick to the balls.

Sterling moves back toward the window and I know heā€™s counting down, just like I am. We agreed I should wait twenty minutes from the time Vin got in from workā€”or wherever the hell heā€™s beenā€”before heading up to see him. That twenty-minute window is just about closed now, which means Iā€™m about to look him in the eyes for the first time since he visited Southside. And as much as she doesnā€™t want me confronting him, itā€™d be out of character for me not to. So, if we want him to keep thinking weā€™re not up to anything, I have to respond the way heā€™d expect.

By going off on his ass.

I have to be smart, though. He canā€™t know specificsā€”about Southside caving and telling the whole truth, that her brother warned her about the phones.

All he needs to know is that I saw Pandoraā€™s update. Translation: heā€™s about to know once and for all that he fucked up. Royally.

Dane stands and my gaze rises with him. ā€œYou heading out?ā€ I ask.

He nods. ā€œYup.ā€

ā€œIā€™ll ride with you,ā€ Sterling offers.

ā€œCool. Weā€™ll meet back here when everythingā€™s done. And if Iā€™m lucky, I wonā€™t lose my shit and do something stupid while Iā€™m up there with Vin,ā€ I add with a laugh.

Guess itā€™s not really funny, though, seeing as how Iā€™d love to light into him.

The guys head out and Iā€™m on my feet, too. Itā€™s go-time.

ā€œPretty sure I raised you to knock before barging into a damn room, didnā€™t I?ā€

I ignore Vinā€™s bullshit and slam the door to his study behind me. Despite the fact that twenty-four hours have passed, Iā€™m still just as pissed as the second I laid eyes on the image of Southside climbing out of his SUV. He sees it, the rage spilling over, and it has him on his feet, staring back as I charge toward his desk.

ā€œMind telling me what the fuck you were doing at Blueā€™s house last night?ā€

He doesnā€™t speak, but the slow smirk spreading across his face says it all. It tells me he thinks what I feel for Southside means nothing. It tells me that he sees her the same way he sees every other girl in this townā€”as an expendable resource.

ā€œI think you should bring the volume down before we continue this conversation, son.ā€

ā€œSon?ā€ I scoff, wishing I could say more. ā€œJustā€¦ answer the fucking question.ā€

Heā€™s calmā€”or at least pretending to beā€”while Iā€™m anything but that.

ā€œYouā€™re clearly hopped up on emotion, but didnā€™t I warn you about her several weeks ago? Sheā€™s toxic.ā€

I know where this is going and Iā€™m already shaking my head. ā€œNo. Bullshit.ā€

ā€œThink what you want, but I came to you like a man. Even laid my sins bare so

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