Knowing You_The Cursed Series Part 2 Page 9

  I place my plate on the glass table next to the chair. “What happened after I left that night?”

  Parker sets down his plate and slides onto my chair, facing me with his hand resting on my hip. His eyes lock me in, the brilliant blue delving deep. “I didn’t know how badly she was injured, I swear. They wouldn’t tell us anything when we dropped her off, and we couldn’t stick around in case they called the police. But I promise you, she was conscious when we left her.”

  “She was?” My heart skips in my chest. “Did she say anything?”

  Parker’s brows scrunch in thought, trying to remember. “Something about having to help her. Don’t let him hurt her.” He looks up, his face lighting with realization. “She meant you, didn’t she? She was talking about you.”

  I swallow.

  “Remember that one truth you promised me—”

  “Don’t,” I beg. “Please don’t use it now.”

  Parker gently rests his hand on my cheek. “You can trust me, Lana.”

  I open my mouth, unsure what’s about to come out, a protest or a confession. But nothing does.

  “Please,” he urges. “Maybe if I knew, I could help. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  “I didn’t push her.” The easiest truth to confess.

  “I know,” he says, surprising me.

  “You do?”

  “Of course.” He looks at me in confusion. “You thought I’d actually think you’d be capable of that? I’ve seen you in some crazy fights, Lana, but you’re not cruel.”

  Except, I can be. “But you told me to keep my mouth shut.”

  “Yeah, because I wanted to take care of everything. To protect you.”

  “And yourself.”

  Parker tilts his head, not denying it. “I didn’t know what exactly happened, but I knew you were involved. And you weren’t dealing with it very well, so I needed to get you away from the scene. So tell me what happened?”

  I hesitate, searching his eyes. Can I trust him? And even if I did, what could he do?

  I open my mouth. The truth’s about to slip from my tongue when I hear footsteps clicking along the wooden planks. Parker closes his eyes in frustration.

  “There you are,” Lily sings, coming up beside us. “Sorry. Did I interrupt something?”

  “No, it’s fine” Parker replies, standing. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I just haven’t had a minute to speak with Lana yet.” She drags a chair to the other side of me as Parker sits back in his seat, picking up his plate. “I wanted to ask how you liked your room?”

  “What?” I look from Lily to Parker. He shrugs, not knowing what she’s talking about.

  “At Blackwood? I wasn’t sure what colors you liked. The guys weren’t any help. So I decided to keep it clean and simple. But I really hope you like it.”

  “You decorated my room?”

  “Yes.” She beams, her smile is vibrant and kind. I instantly feel guilty for not liking it. I mean, it’s not that bad.

  “That was really nice of you,” I say, sincerely. “Where’d you get the pictures?”

  “From Olivia.” She adds, “Parker’s mother,” when I look confused. I nod, like that makes sense. Except it doesn’t. How did Parker’s mother get pictures of me?

  “I know Kingston isn’t where you want to be, but I promise we’ll have the most unforgettable summer!”

  “Maybe I should stay,” Parker interjects.

  “You know you can’t,” Lily tells him, pouting slightly. And somehow it looks sincere and adorable on her.

  “I know.” Parker sighs.

  “When do you go back?” I ask him, suddenly not wanting him to leave either. But why do I need him to stay? Can I actually trust him? More than that, is he capable of helping me?

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” I slouch in the chair, unable to hide my disappointment.

  “I’ll be back though,” he assures me. “We’ll figure this out.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lily asks, looking between us. Then her eyes widen like she suddenly understands. “Oh!”

  But now I’m confused. I turn to Parker for an answer. Then I hear someone shouting my name.

  I cock my head, listening. “Is that …”

  “Ashton,” Lily confirms.

  “I should go find her.” I stand and go to grab my plate.

  “I’ll get it,” Parker tells me, getting to his feet. Before I can walk away, he reaches for my hand, pulling me toward him. My heart does this flippy-skipping thing in my chest. I’m trying to decide if it’s excited or afraid, when he wraps his arms around me and murmurs low in my ear, “You really can trust me. Even if it’s only as friends.” He meets my eyes, letting me know he’s serious. “You know I want more than that, but if it’s all I can get, I’ll take it.” He leans down and brushes his lips against my cheek.

  “Lana!” Ashton hollers, much closer.

  “I should go,” I say softly, reluctantly easing out of his arms. Just as I turn around, Ashton appears, her eyes frantic.

  “There you are! We have to go, right now! I totally forgot about the early curfew-thing this weekend!” She grabs my arm and pulls me after her.

  “I can drive you,” Parker calls after us.

  “Lance is already waiting for us in your car,” she tells him over her shoulder, still yanking me. She pushes her way through the crowd; swears trail after us as drinks spill and jostle.

  Parker is still in pursuit. “Lance has the Rover?”

  “He said to get it from the school tomorrow when your father comes to visit.” There’s a crowd congregating right in front of the entrance to the house. “Move!” Surprisingly, they do.

  I’m half tripping, half being dragged through the house, wanting to free my arm from her talon grip. But I’m too busy trying not to fall on my face.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow!” I hear Parker say from somewhere in the distance.

  “Bye!” I call back, not sure where he is or if he can hear me.

  “Hurry,” Ashton says, sliding in the passenger seat. I pop in the back.

  We fly out of the driveway almost as soon as my door closes. This guy isn’t being nearly as careful on the dirt road as Parker was. I’m jostled and bounced on the seat.

  The headlights reflect off a sleek black GT at the end of the driveway. The vintage car stands out among the newer luxury vehicles. Before we turn away, the beams reflect off a shaved head in the driver’s seat. I stop breathing for a second. Straining in the seat, I twist around as we pass the car, trying to get a better view. But it’s too dark.

  “Hey, I’m Lance.” I settle back on the leather to face him. The driver has shaggy dirty blond hair. His reflection flashes a friendly smile through the rearview mirror.

  When I look into his eyes, I want to die. Another fricken Harrison!

  “I heard you singing. Will you sing for me?”

  “And what will you give to me?” he asked, cunning in his eyes.

  “I don’t have anything to offer.”

  The man smiled, his fanged teeth gleaming. “Oh, but you do.”

  The handsome man stepped behind a tree. Thaylina followed, but he was gone. She couldn’t stop thinking of the mysterious man. Even long after she returned to the tower.

  “So, you’re Lana,” Lance continues when I don’t say a word. “My brothers are barely talking to each other because of you.”

  Ashton rotates in her seat to face me. “Ooh, scandal!”

  “I didn’t know there were three of you,” I say, trying to change the subject. “Are there any more Harrison siblings I should be warned about?”

  Lance laughs. “Nope. Just the three of us. And I don’t need a warning. I’m nothing like my brothers.”

  “That’s why he attends Blackwood with us,” Ashton announces proudly.

  I scoff. “Because you’re so innocent.”

  “No. I just don’t hide my faults.”

  “That’s noble of you,�
� I say, sarcastically. “Is your father also your lawyer?” I don’t expect him to answer.

  “No, Dwight is,” he says with a grin, letting me know he’s not bothered by my prying.

  “Dwight? As in my court-appointed lawyer?”

  “Uh, no. Dwight as in an associate at my dad’s firm. But yeah, same guy.”

  What? He’s been representing me for two years. Why are they lying to me?

  “You have two lawyers?” Ashton’s eyes widen like she’s in awe of me. “I’m officially obsessed with you.”

  “You didn’t know, did you?” Lance darts a glance at me through the mirror again. I shake my head.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” I say out loud. I probably shouldn’t have, but maybe Lance knows something. “I’ve never paid for a lawyer. Why would your dad do this?”

  Lance shrugs. I don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t know or won’t answer.

  It takes us half the time to get back to Blackwood with Lance driving. And thankfully, there weren’t any cops on the road. Per usual, there’s no one on the road.

  Lance parks in a lot off to the side of the guard booth, next to about a half-dozen other cars. As soon as he turns off the car, Ashton hits the ground running.

  “Move!” she yells over her shoulder. “Eight minutes ‘til curfew!”

  Lance takes off after her, and with a sigh, I chase them both down. Why do I always have to run to keep from getting caught?

  I struggle to remove my platforms. Our feet slap the marble as we race through the foyer of the administration building. We continue through the Court, the branches and flowers reaching for us as we pass. The luminescent cobblestones are disorienting as we sprint through. I struggle to keep up, knowing if I fall behind I’ll be lost.

  “See you in a few,” Ashton yells to Lance as he veers right toward the guys’ dorm and we continue left.

  I can smell the roses before I see them.

  My phone beeps.

  “Shit,” I mutter.

  “They’re checking in?”

  “Yes.”

  “Faster.”

  We race through the doors and take the stairs two at a time. Ashton could easily take three if she wanted, but my legs are struggling to reach two. My thighs are on fire, and my lungs are gasping for each breath.

  My phone beeps again.

  “How many more beeps before I’m screwed?”

  “One.” We reach the fifth floor. “Come to my room after.”

  I’m hurling my body toward my room. My hand is shaking as I hold it under my door monitor. I lift it to my face to accept the video call as I’m walking across my threshold.

  A man appears on the other side. His head looks like it was haphazardly chiseled from rocks. Undeniably ex-military. He doesn’t look happy. Or maybe he always looks like this. “That was too close. I wouldn’t advise doing it again.” Then he hangs up.

  I collapse on my back onto the bed with my arms splayed. Holy shit. My heart is pounding, and I’m actually sweating. Just so I wouldn’t be caught out of my room after curfew. This is so stupid.

  At this moment, I realize, I’m still in my bathing suit. I can’t even imagine that video feed if they had surveillance.

  I change into a pair of fitted sweatpants and a cropped hoodie before leaving my phone on the desk to go to Ashton’s. I stick a flip-flop in the door, so I don’t lock myself out and walk down the hall. Except, I don’t know which room is hers.

  Then again, it’s not too hard to figure out. All I have to do is follow the music. I stop in front of room twenty and knock just as the door opens. Ashton jumps back in surprise, looking like she was about to leave.

  “You found me!” She opens the door wider for me to enter. “I’m going downstairs to drag Sophia up here. I’ll be right back.”

  Before I can react, she slips past me and is gone. I turn to find Lance and Brendan lounging on a light grey couch that’s pushed against the wall under a loft that holds up Ashton’s bed. Her room is so … Ashton. She is scattered all over, from the framed abstract and cityscape photographs on the wall to the plush furniture that looks like you could sink in and get lost. Not to mention the graffiti mural taking up the entire wall behind the bed and couch. It’s sexy but has an attitude at the same time, like a supermodel flipping off a camera.

  I remove a lacy bra from a chair and flop down, still feeling the ache in my body from the sprint to the room.

  “Want some?” Lance holds up a bottle of champagne.

  “Sure,” I sigh, willing to give it another try. Not that I can be picky.

  “Here, top it with this,” Brendan offers, reading my less than enthusiastic response and reaching into Ashton’s fridge to pull out a bottle of fresh squeezed lemonade. He pours some in the champagne flute and hands it to me. I tentatively take a sip and nod in appreciation.

  “Thanks.” I look to Lance who’s sipping his champagne. Everything about him screams “guy.” The slouchy khakis, the half tucked t-shirt and the disheveled mop of hair on his head that flips out around his ears and nearly covers his eyes. But he’s so at ease tipping the elegant glass to his lips, holding it by its stem. The contradiction is sending me on another trip to Wonderland.

  “You’re the fifth student?”

  “Until tomorrow.”

  “Where have you been?”

  “Spent last night at the lake house.”

  “What year are you?”

  “Sophomore? You?”

  “Soph …” I stumble, realizing we’re moving into a new school year. “Junior.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I forgot for a second. Spending the last few weeks of school in juvie messed me up.”

  “You went to juvie?” they ask in unison.

  “You’ve never been? Neither of you?”

  They shake their heads.

  “My dad picked me up at the station the night I was arrested. I was barely in the holding cell.”

  “Never been arrested,” Brendan says.

  Lance and I stare at him, calling him out on his lie. Except, unlike everyone else, I can never tell when he’s lying.

  “Swear.” Brendan rests a hand on his heart. “My principal couldn’t exactly press charges for sleeping with his wife. Maybe for accessing his hidden account and helping her take all of his money, but they never proved it was me.”

  I blink.

  Lance starts laughing. “That’s the best!”

  “What were you arrested for?” Brendan asks Lance.

  “Dealing,” Lance says. “Charges didn’t stick.”

  “Were you?” Brendan pushes.

  “It’s complicated.” He looks to me briefly, like I might understand. Although I can very much understand complicated, I can’t imagine how it applies to him. Then I do.

  Parker.

  “You covered for him?”

  Lance shrugs a shoulder, not admitting or denying. I roll my eyes. Just when I’m about to trust Parker and believe he cares, he reveals another conniving, self-serving side of himself that forces me to see the truth. He doesn’t care about me. He just wants to be sure that nothing that happened that night will come back to get him.

  “And you?” Brendan looks to me. “What horrible thing could you have done to be sent to a juvenile detention center?”

  “You went to juvie?” Ashton bursts out from the other side of the room, with Sophia behind her. Sophia stares at me with her mouth open—and maybe just a little fear in her eyes.

  I groan. “I’m not like you guys. I don’t have parents who have a criminal lawyer on retainer.”

  “Or a publicist to spin a story about having the flu when their daughter is found passed out in a bathroom at an L.A. club.” Ashton sits on the bench against the window.

  “Or a doctor who’ll write script after script of whatever drug you ask for to keep the envelopes of money coming in.” Sophia smooths her skirt under her and slides onto the bench next to Ashton.

  We all stare at Sophia. �
��What? I know we never talk about why we’re here, but it happened whether we say it out loud or not.”

  Ashton busts out laughing and swings her arm around Sophia affectionately. “I need a drink. Sofe? Wait. Are you supposed to drink on your meds?”

  “If I did what I was supposed to do, I wouldn’t be here.”

  Ashton presses a sloppy kiss to her cheek.

  While Lance pours the girls a glass of champagne from another bottle that appears out of nowhere, Ashton opens the windows behind them as far as they will go.

  She pulls open a drawer in her black lacquer desk and removes the books, pops the false bottom and pulls out a box. I grin. She is totally my favorite person right now. Ashton reveals a mini bong and a bag of weed.

  “You get me,” Lance says, holding out his fist for her to bump.

  As Ashton’s preparing the bong, Brendan pursues the lingering question. “You never told us what you got sent to juvie for.” I glare at him because he knows. He grins his obnoxious taunting grin. I wonder if my hands will fit around his throat.

  “Yeah, what were you busted for?” Lance asks, watching Ashton hungrily.

  “Which time?”

  All of their heads flip to stare at me … again.

  “Omigod, stop! I told you, I don’t come from money!”

  “How are you here?” Sophia asks, puzzled.

  “Exactly,” Brendan adds emphatically, like he’s making a point.

  “Your father,” I say to Lance. “He got me in. I have no idea how, but I’m here. It’s part of my plea agreement.”

  “For what?” Lance asks before tilting the flute to his lips.

  “Armed robbery.”

  Lance chokes on his champagne.

  “I mean, aiding and abetting in an armed robbery and obstruction after the fact.”

  “So you know who did it and wouldn’t give them up?” Lance translates, understanding legal-speak.

  “Exactly.”

  They all nod in appreciation. I may have just earned a little respect.

  “Who did it?” Brendan asks. I know what he’s doing, asking these questions in front of everyone like I might feel pressured to share the details he doesn’t know. I seriously want to strangle him.