He looks at me as if nothing he said is out of the ordinary and incredibly fucked-up. Not that I want to hook up with Gunner, but who decided to take my boobies—and me—off the market? Hearing him tell me that an alien ship just landed behind me would be weirder.
Stunned, I say, “No, I would like to return to your previous bewildering statement, please.”
Gunner is shaking his head before I finish my sentence. “Nope. No. And no. We are not going there. I’m blaming that slip on the extra good weed I smoked last night. It was an after-effect.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Dead.” He grabs an invisible noose from around his neck and tugs it. His tongue lolls to the side as his eyes roll into his head.
My mind is still whirling through that coded sentence, but his loose lips have magically turned into a vault. Like a dried-up well, he won’t reveal anything else.
I sigh dramatically. “Fine, what’s this proposal?”
He smears a section of the damp sand with his hand, smoothing it over, then picks up a broken shell. With the tip of it, he draws a circle in the sand, then adds details. I can tell immediately it’s a girl with long strands of hair fanning over one side of her face in an imaginary breeze.
“What if I help you with your art project?”
I glance from his sand art to his face. “Really?” Then I jerk my thoughts to where this is going. That sounds great, but he has his own agenda. “Wait, what do you want in return?”
He uses another shell and a piece of small driftwood to finish his quick but very impressive sand girl. Discarding the random objects, he looks at me. “By spring break, I want you to tell me why you’rereallyat Monarch.”
I wasn’t expecting him to wantthat—the one thing I can’t give. But damn, if I don’t need help with my art project. “Why that?”
“Because you’re full of secrets, Kinsley ‘Ninja’ West.” He wipes his hands together, dusting off the granules of sand.
He’s certainly not wrong. “And?” I push, sensing there’s more.
“And I want to know your biggest one.”
I force a soft laugh. “Dealing in secrets now?” Wanting nothing more than to avoid his eyes, I look away in fear of giving in to the truth of his accusations.
“Stop trying to conjure a lie. I want the truth.” He bumps my shoulder. “We all have them. But yours”—he taps the tip of my nose—“I’m sensing yours are big.”
Maybe all of this will be over before the time comes when I have to tell him. I can only hope. If not, I’ll tell him the truth in one word—without details—revenge. “Fine,” I agree.
He holds out his hand, and all his fingers are folded except his pinky.
This time, I do laugh. “You want to pinky-swear?”
He feigned shock. “Is there anything more binding?”
I loop my pinky around his. “Deal.”
With our fingers still looped, he stands, pulling me up with him.
“Are you going to tell Edge you saw me here?” I wipe the sand off my butt.
“Do you want me to?”
I shake my head. “I don’t care.”
“Yeah, you do, but I won’t.” He offers a small smile. “It’s our secret.” He picks up his board. “But, Ninja, just know...I bet he knows more about you than you think.”
Every muscle in my body stiffens, and it’s obvious he notices the change in my posture when he tilts his head down.
“He’s Ledger Hunt, a rich asshole, son to a bigger asshole, who has people—who have their people. Once you enter Venom’s den, there’s no hiding.” He tucks the surfboard under his arm.
And here I thought I was the clever one.
