It was almost worth it for the prissy look on killer-boy’s face at the thought of my big, dirty dog in the cab of his truck, but I really wasn’t all that willing to push my luck with him. Star seemed to think he was cool, but I still wasn’t so sure. So I hopped up into the flatbed with Bruiser for the ride.

But Bruiser is already ass-over-ankles for Star, and the second we get there and she hops down from the cab, he is up and over the side, bee-lining for her. She laughs and ruffles his ears before standing up and tugging her hoodie tighter around her sweet little body. It takes everything I have not to go over and offer to keep her warm.

Instead, I just lean back against a big rock not far from where they have laid out the blanket, and smoke. The beach is already packed with people, even though dusk has barely set, and our little group ended up on the outskirts of the sand, near where the beach met the forest. Even though we are on the edge of the crowd, we still get looks. After half a dozen people pass us by and pin me with a side-eyed glare that says they know exactly who I am and what I’ve done, I almost bail, ready to tell the others I want to head back. But then I see Star, how happy she is, how good her smile and skin look in the fading sunlight, and I can’t do it. I stay. I keep myself separate, so that the glares from the good people of Avenue are directed at me and not at the group, but I stay.

Damn, I want to join Star on that blanket, though. And maybe do a little more than just watching the fireworks go boom. But she is laughing and eating and drinking with her friends, and I am happy enough just watching her do it.

They are sprawled across the blanket. Roth on one end, poking at the little fire he got going while doing a fairly fine impression of nursing a beer without actually drinking any of it; Autumn in the middle, all bundled up against the cool night air. And then there is Star. Hot as hell in the little ass-hugging shorts she’s been wearing all day, wrapped up in a black hoodie that is about two sizes too big for her. Her legs are all stretched out in front of her, and even my damn dog has weaseled his way in there. He is lying half on and half off the blanket, but his head is resting on my dream girl’s upper thigh, and she pets his head between sips of her beer.

Smart mutt, I think with a snort, and take another drag on my smoke, trying to smother a smile.

“You okay over there?” Star calls, and I send a little chin-nod in her direction and blow out a lungful of smoke. She just shakes her head and smiles at me. Then, without another word, she laughs and shoves Bruiser’s head off her lap—he gives out a pitiful little whimper and I scoff at him. You’re not subtle, buddy, I think, but he knows what side his bread is buttered on, and as soon as Star’s on her feet, he’s already nosing around Autumn, looking for some love.

I watch as Star pulls herself to her feet and brushes the stuck-on sand off her long legs and make her way over to me, fresh cup of wine in hand. She stumbles a bit, and I smile, trying to figure out if it’s the uneven ground or whatever Autumn keeps refilling her cup with that’s making her move like that. My own cup is half-full of cola I didn’t really want, but couldn’t turn down when I realized that was the only non-alcoholic drink we had. I’d been a little worried about hanging around the others while they drank, but so far it hasn’t been too bad. They sure as hell don’t drink like my old friends and I used to. Roth seems to barely touch the stuff, and Star and Autumn seem content to get quietly tipsy, while my old group wouldn’t stop until at least one of us was puking our fucking guts out on the sidewalk and laughing all the way through it. This is different.

This is nice.

Star sinks down in the sand next to me and leans back against the rock I’m using to prop myself up. She’s holding her cup loosely in her hand, and even from here I can tell that the amount of booze in it is fucking astounding. What the hell is in that wine Autumn makes? Lighter fluid? “Hey,” she says, her voice soft, almost husky. It makes me want to reach over and wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her close. Instead I switch my smoke to the hand closest to her, and bring it to my mouth, just to keep my arm occupied so I don’t do anything stupid.

Like touch her.

Don’t be a fucking moron, I tell myself, but I can feel the warmth of her skin next to mine, and I can’t help but want.

“How are you doing over here?” she asks and sort of sways into me.

Better now that you’re next to me, I want to say, but glare at my bent knees instead and stub the last of my smoke out in the sand between us.

“Not bad,” I tell her, then glance over at her friends, sure they’re watching us. But they’re not. The-next-famous-serial-killer is off gathering up more twigs for the campfire, and Autumn is having a wresting contest with Bruiser on the blanket. Bruiser, as always, is losing. But they both seem to be having fun. I look back over at Star, and in the fading light it’s hard to make out the lines of her face, but I can feel as much as see that she’s smiling. At me.

“Sorry you got dragged out to this,” she says, taking a sip of her drink. “I know it’s probably not how you wanted to spend your Fourth of July.”

“Eh, it’s fine.” I shrug. I’m fighting the urge to pull out another smoke and light up. I need something to do with my mouth other than talk, because apparently I’m fucking awkward as hell. I used to be smoother than this. I know it. “It’s not like I had anything better to do.”

“But sti—”

“Ashley?” My body jolts with recognition as I hear a voice call my name. I turn, squeezing my eyes shut for a split second, praying to whoever’s up there that I’m wrong, that the voice doesn’t belong to who I think. But whoever’s in charge up there still has a beef with me, so of course it’s exactly who I think it is.

I let out a sigh and reach into my pocket. I need that cigarette. Now.

“Hi, Mom.”

Chapter 12

Ash

I’m never fucking leaving the house again. The only place in this damn town that’s safe is Star’s mother’s house. And considering the fact I could be crushed to death by the stuff inside it at any second, that’s saying something. So just no. No more going outside. I’m putting my fucking foot down.

It just isn’t worth it.

Mom is staring down at me, Dad hovering at her shoulder like the world’s largest, most uncomfortable mosquito, and I’m racking my brain for something to say to make them leave before they realize I’m sitting with Star. Whatever they have to say to me, I don’t want her to hear it. I still have some pride. Her gaze flickers down to Star, and she gets this look on her face, one that I’ve seen directed at me a million times. Disappointment.

“I don’t believe I’ve met your . . . friend, Ashley,” she says.

I roll my eyes. Yeah, I think, and you’re not going to, not when you say the word friend but somehow make it sound like garbage. I turn to look at Star, whose gaze is darting back and forth between me and my mom. There’s a little furrow digging in between her brows.

“Are you okay?” she whispers, low enough so my parents can’t hear over all the noise from the crowd on the beach.

I nod once and start pulling myself to my feet. “Yeah,” I say back, keeping my voice low. “You stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.”