Be the Girl

I nod.

A soft smile touches his lips as his fingers thread through my hair. “That’s okay. There’s no rush.” He ropes his arms around my shoulders, the weight of them welcomed. Stooping to press his forehead against mine, he whispers, “You having a good time?”

“Yeah. But I’ll have a good time anytime I’m with you.”

That earns me a sweet, soft kiss on the lips.

“Are you crazy?” Zach’s booming voice explodes over the hum of voices and music. “Why the hell did you give that to her?”

We peel away from each other and turn to find Zach squaring off against a smug-faced Adam.

“What?” He shrugs. “She wanted one.”

“Of course she wanted it. She thought it was just a cookie!”

I know without a doubt who the “she” they’re referring to is.

Cassie is on the couch, her face stony as her eyes flicker, surveying the situation and trying to read the sudden tension in the room.

Emmett has picked up on it, too. “What’s going on?” His tone has taken on a razor-sharp edge.

Zach’s normally carefree demeanor has been replaced by a stiff stance and a mixture of rage and apology on his face. “I went outside for a few minutes and this shithead thought it’d be a good idea to give your sister one of his cookies.”

One of his … oh God.

My stomach drops as I realize what’s going on.

This is not happening.

“Are you …” Emmett’s eyebrows climb halfway up his forehead. “You’re kidding, right? This is a joke. Right?”

Adam shrugs. “It’s gonna be funny in about an hour.”

He barely has time to get his hands up.

Emmett moves fast, lunging at the smug asshole, taking him and a table lamp down in the charge. And then his fists are flying with abandon, pummeling Adam’s face over and over.

Shouts erupt and people circle.

My heart pounds like a jackhammer in my chest as I’m torn between wanting Emmett to hurt this guy and not wanting him to get himself into trouble.

Until I spy Cassie, in her spot, her face contorted with confusion and terror, her body trembling, fat tears streaming down her cheeks. Looking … traumatized.

“Zach!” I jerk at his arm. “You need to stop this now. Look at her!”

One glance at Cassie and he’s diving for Emmett, his arms going around his chest.

Meanwhile, I’m shoving people out of my way to reach her.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“Is Emmett mad at me?” Cassie’s mouth is shaped in a perfect pout.

“No. This wasn’t your fault.”

“Okay.” She nods, but the tears keep flowing.

Zach and two guys are herding Emmett backward, away from Adam. A trickle of blood runs from one of Emmett’s nostrils and down over his mouth, but otherwise he looks fine, save for his bloody knuckles and his torn shirt collar.

“Let’s go,” he barks, his tongue touching his upper lip. He lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe at his face. His torso is heaving from his rapid, heavy breaths.

I grab our jackets and help Cassie up as Adam hauls himself off the floor, staggering slightly, his left eye already swelling shut, his nose a mangled mess. He leans over to spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor. “It was only five grams, dickhead.”

Emmett points at him in warning. “If I hear one word about hitting you from anyone, I’ll be telling the cops that you’re drugging fifteen-year-old special needs kids. We’ll see if you think five grams is no big deal then.”

“Did I do drugs?” Cassie’s eyes widen as panic sets in. “I did drugs? What’s going to happen to me?” Her bottom lip wobbles. “Am I going to die?”

“No.” A laugh escapes me, though none of this is funny. “You’re going to be fine.” I put my hand on her shoulder as I lead her toward the door and, while she stiffens, she doesn’t shrug away. “You might feel funny for a bit. You might even laugh a lot.” God, I hope that’s all that happens. What does marijuana do to a mind like Cassie’s?

“I feel funny,” she declares.

I smile softly. “It’s going to take a while for you to feel anything.” Glancing over my shoulder to see how far Emmett is behind us, I catch Adam and Holly in the corner. Holly’s hand is smoothing over his bicep, as if consoling him. Meanwhile, he’s snapping at her. Angry with her about something, it would seem.

She glances over, catches me watching her, and quickly averts her gaze to the floor.

And I can’t help but think she’s the one who put the idiotic idea in Adam’s head. The person who knows how much Cassie loves sweets, how easily she’d be convinced to take it.

But is she that cruel? Or is she that drunk and caught up in the moment of revenge?

Either way, the fact that she’s talking to the jerk now speaks volumes.

“Ready?” Emmett comes up behind me, still seething.

I hand him his jacket.

“Emmett?” Cassie stands at the top of the staircase.

“Here.” Emmett shifts around me to take the steps down, until he’s directly in front of Cassie, ready to break her fall if need be.

“I’m feeling kind of funny now.” Cassie ducks her head and wipes away her tears as we pass people. But their eyes are on Emmett—on his bloody fists, on his torn collar, on the silent rage emanating from him.

“No, you’re fine. You won’t feel funny yet,” I assure her again.

“We need to tell Mom.”

“No!” Emmett smooths his hand over his forehead. “Just let me think for a minute, Cassie. And next time, don’t eat cookies that someone gives you at a party!”

“I’m sorry, Emmett.” She sobs. “This is all my fault!”

He shakes his head. “No. It’s not your fault. It’s mine, for bringing you here.”

And mine, since I’m the one who convinced him it was a good idea.

Is that what he’s thinking right now? Is he angry with me?

Knots form in the pit of my stomach.

“I don’t want to go to a party ever again,” Cassie whispers, her shoulders hunched, her head bowed.

He sighs. “I don’t blame you.”





20





Emmett sets the bowl of chips on the coffee table and then sinks into the couch beside me.

Tension radiates from every inch of his body.

“What did you tell them?” I dare ask.

“That we came home early and all three of us are watching a movie downstairs.”

“And …?”

He steals a glance at Cassie, who’s curled up on the couch beneath a blanket, her attention locked on Spiderman’s form as he swings between buildings on the TV screen. The ten-minute walk home felt like ten hours, a true test of patience, with Cassie stopping every twenty or so steps to announce with panic that she felt funny, and Emmett and I needing to convince her that she was fine. She retreated into her own world as soon as we came down here and has been quiet ever since, as if the walls and familiar setting have sedated her.

He shakes his head. “Not yet. I figured I’d let them have fun for a bit before I ruin their entire weekend. I’m still hoping there wasn’t enough in it to do anything major. Adam makes them himself and he’s an idiot. I wouldn’t be surprised if he screwed up the measurements.”

That could go one of two ways—too little, or too much—but I don’t bring that up. Still, it’s been almost an hour and there’s no droopy eyes or uncontrollable giggling fit, or paranoia. No sign of Cassie being stoned … yet.

The first thing Emmett did when we got home was change his shirt and wash the blood from his face, and Adam’s blood from his knuckles. I note the bruises forming. “Maybe you should put some ice on that.”

“I’m fine.” He stretches his fingers, setting his hand on his thigh. “My mom is going to lose it.”

“I can’t picture your mom losing it.” Heather, with her soft smiles and her patient sighs. Then again, I have heard her sharp tone a few times. Still …

“My mom is calm and level-headed until it comes to Cassie. She already wants nothing to do with the Levic family after what happened last year. And now, with this? I won’t be surprised if she calls the cops. But then who knows what’ll happen to me for beating the hell out of him.”