Biggest Flirts (Superlatives #1)(51)
Author: Jennifer Echols

Grimacing, he gave the horn a good long honk.

I watched the apartments. Violet opened a door and waved. I waved back so she’d know where we were, because Will’s down-and-out 1970s Mustang blended in pretty well with the other vehicles in this lot. Will fit in himself with his aviators on, his hat backward, and his shirt off. I didn’t mention this to him.

The next second, Ricky appeared beside her in the doorway. He grabbed her raised arm. She jerked away from him and vanished into the apartment. He shot us the bird before following her.

“Nice,” Will said. “Shouldn’t we go help her move her stuff? Because it looks like that ass**le isn’t going to.”

“Nah, she won’t have much.” She hadn’t left with much, and I doubted she’d had the money to buy anything while she’d been here. “But here’s how you can help.” I dug in my purse and handed him the cigarettes and lighter I’d bought when we’d stopped for gas. “Stand against the bumper, light a cigarette, and glare toward the apartment. Flex your guns if you can find an excuse.”

He stared at the package in my hand. “I’ve never smoked.”

Sighing impatiently—and then wishing I hadn’t, because Will was doing me some very serious favors here—I unwrapped the cellophane and drew out a cigarette for him. “Light the tobacco end, with brown stuff in it. Suck on the filter end. Just inhale the smoke into your mouth, not your lungs, so you don’t have a coughing fit.”

Taking the cigarette and lighter, Will swore and slid out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He rounded to the front on the side nearest the apartments and leaned back against the hood, as instructed. Though the midday was oppressively hot and sunny and calm, like every August day in Florida that happened to be hurricane free, he cupped his hand around the cigarette while he lit it, as if he were standing in a high wind. Then he exhaled in one steady stream of smoke. He must have seen this on TV. From where I was sitting, I couldn’t tell whether he was glaring at the apartment, but he’d followed my other instructions impeccably. He was probably following that one too.

Ricky watched him through the apartment window. If he’d toyed with the idea of convincing or forcing Violet to stay, in the face of my tough boyfriend who’d come to help rescue Violet, now he was thinking twice.

Ricky disappeared from the window. Violet backed out the door. Ricky came after her. I could see him yelling and hear the echo on a two-second delay. But he didn’t follow her, just hung on to the doorjamb and hollered as she jogged down the stairs with a garbage bag slung over her shoulder.

“Show’s over,” I told Will. “Come inside.” I was afraid that if he was going to get shot, now would be the time.

He bent toward my window and blew smoke at me. The sight surprised him, and he jumped a little. “Sorry,” he said, exhaling more smoke at the same time. He coughed and turned whiter than normal. “What do I do with this?” Discreetly he held up the butt in front of his body, where Ricky wouldn’t see what he was asking me.

“Throw it on the ground and step on it to put it out,” I said carefully, like I was presenting Smoking 101 on Sesame Street.

“That’s littering.”

I gestured out the window. “They seem to like that here.”

He couldn’t argue with that. He threw down the cigarette to join the others on the asphalt, ground it out under his shoe, then rounded the car and slipped behind the wheel, reeking of smoke. “I think I might throw up.”

“From the heat or the smoke?”

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat. “Both.”

“Sorry,” I said, patting his knee. “You did great.”

“How many other sisters do you have, again?”

I watched Violet turn around in the parking lot and scream a parting shot at Ricky before running toward us. “Two,” I said absently, “but they’ve already been through this, so maybe we’re done.” More likely, we weren’t done, but Will and I would have moved on from each other by the time history repeated itself.

With a start, I realized that my usual way of thinking about Will was wrong. We were together. He would still be around the next time Violet did something stupid like this.

Or, now that I finally had a boyfriend, maybe it was my turn to do something stupid.

Stupider.

I got out of the car and pushed my seat forward so Violet could collapse into the tiny back seat with her garbage bag containing all her worldly possessions—other than the ones littering my own bedroom floor. Will immediately cranked the car and backed out. I think all three of us tensed, watching the rearview mirror, until we made it up the ramp onto the interstate.

Violet let out a long sigh. “Where’s Dad?”

“Asleep.”

“On the weekend?”

“Yes, he’s going in tonight. He’s worked the last twenty-eight nights without time off.”

“Jesus,” Violet said. “Well, thanks for rescuing me, sis.” She leaned over the seat to plant a kiss on my cheek. “And you.” She kissed Will’s cheek.

“Violet is like me but drunk,” I explained to Will, “even when she’s sober.”

“Violet Cruz,” she said, sticking one hand very close to Will’s face.

Will reached back to shake her hand awkwardly without looking around at her. “Will Matthews.”

“You talk funny,” she said. “Are you from Russia?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Are you a friend of Tia’s, or . . .”

“I’m her boyfriend,” he said self-righteously.

Violet gasped dramatically. “You have a boyfriend?” she squealed at me. “You said you would never have a boyfriend.”

“Yes.” My stomach turned upside down. Now I knew how Will felt. I might vomit, but not from the heat.

“Are you pregnant?” she asked me.

I whipped around in my seat. “Sit down and put your seat belt on.” Waiting for her to do this, I said, “You look like shit.” She really did. She used to put a lot of effort into her clothes and hair and makeup, drinking up anything Izzy could teach her. This morning she wore sweats pushed up to her knees and a tank top. She could have used her blue-and-green bra. She had dark circles under her eyes. At least her dirty hair was done up in a cute topknot like she hadn’t completely lost touch with how teenagers dressed when they were trying to look like they didn’t care but they actually did.