Ashes to Ashes (Burn for Burn #3)

Ashes to Ashes (Burn for Burn #3) Page 33

I snort. He never said that. Lillia can’t lie for shit.

“Okay, okay, fine. He didn’t say that. But here’s the truth, Kat. You and Reeve are the two people I care about most in my life, besides my family.” She fixes her puppy-dog eyes on me, all beseeching. “And it’s important to me that you have a good relationship with each other. I know you guys have history, and we all have history with Mary, but can’t you let some of that go and start off fresh? Or, at least try to? For me? I mean, that’s what Mary’s probably doing. She’s starting fresh somewhere, letting the past go. Don’t you think?”

Oh, gawd. No wonder Lil has every guy I know eating out of the palm of her hand. This chick is impossible to say no to, and I’m not even a dude. She’s right. I think a lot of my current Reeve disdain comes from knowing what he did to Mary. But Lillia seems so sure that he’s a good guy. Maybe I have him pegged wrong. And Mary must have found closure, or else she’d still be here.

I sink back into my chair. “Fine, but if he pisses me off, I walk.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Does he know I’m here, or did you trick him, too?”

“He knows,” she assures me.

I’m shoveling a spoonful of Moose Tracks into my mouth when Reeve walks into Scoops and ambles over to our table like he’s a damn king. God, he doesn’t even have to speak, and he’s already annoying me. He gives Lil a kiss, and then he grins at me and says, “What up, DeBrassio.”

I nod at him. With a mouthful of ice cream I say, “?’Sup.”

Nobody’s saying anything, so Lil starts chattering about her horse, Phantom, and practicing different jumping obstacles. Personally, it’s boring the shit out of me because I have no idea what any of it means, but Reeve’s nodding and listening like he’s actually interested. He yawns a couple of times, though, deep sleepy ones. The third time Lillia frowns at him. “Are you even listening to what I’m saying?”

“Yes.”

“Then what did I just say?” she challenges.

“You were explaining what jumping over a crossrail means.” He demonstrates by setting up an obstacle course with the napkin dispenser and some straws. He raises his brows at her smugly. “See?” He leans in toward her and opens his mouth and says, “Ahh.”

Inwardly I groan. I don’t know why I have to sit here and be a witness to their foreplay.

“You have your own ice cream,” she says. “You can feed yourself.”

“But I like yours better,” he says, and pouts.

“I’m not sharing. You don’t deserve it. You were yawning the whole time I was talking, right, Kat?”

I shrug and keep eating my ice cream. I’m already plotting what excuse I’m gonna give so I can get out of here.

“Sorry, babe. I’m just tired,” he says.

“You do look kinda rough,” I say to Reeve, who frowns. With my spoon I gesture at his face. “You’ve got circles under your eyes.”

“I’ve been sleeping for shit lately,” Reeve admits, rubbing his face. “I keep having weird dreams.”

“What kind of dreams?” Now I’m interested. I love hearing about freaky dreams. “I have a book that tells you the meaning of different dreams.”

“That’s so neat,” Lillia says. “Reeve, tell her about your dream and she’ll interpret it.”

Reeve quickly shakes his head. “I don’t remember.”

Lil licks her spoon. “What do you mean, you don’t remember? You just said your dreams were weird.”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember them, okay?”

“God, get defensive, why don’t you. I thought it’d be fun. Jeez.” She looks at me and makes a face.

I get up to go to the bathroom, and as I duck down the hallway, I hear Lillia hiss, “Can you please perk up and at least try to make an effort with her?”

I stop behind the corner to hide and listen. This sounds like it’s gonna be good.

“I’m serious. Kat’s my friend and it’s important to me that she like you.”

Aww. That means a lot. Maybe I could try to make more of an effort too.

“Okay, okay.”

“She already has a terrible impression of you, and you’re making it worse. The dream thing was the perfect in!”

Damn. He wasn’t that bad. He just didn’t want to share his bad dreams. They’re probably about kinky sex stuff.

I go into the bathroom to pee. When I get back, they’re still bickering. Yikes. Change of plans—I’ll try harder next time. “I think I’m gonna head out,” I say.

Lillia glares at Reeve. “You made her uncomfortable.”

Reeve challenges, “DeBrassio, are you uncomfortable?”

“No—”

“See?” he says. “I’ve known this girl my whole life. She doesn’t get uncomfortable like a normal girl.” A sly grin spreads across his face. “Hey, remember that time in sixth grade when my parents had a Labor Day barbecue? You were wearing white shorts, and I made a ketchup bomb, and it exploded all over your butt, and I told everybody you had your period?” He busts up laughing.

“Reeve!” Lillia yells.

But I’m laughing too. I remember it like it was yesterday. What was embarrassing was I didn’t even have my period yet, but I didn’t want people to know that.

“You didn’t give a shit,” Reeve continues. “You just borrowed a pair of Tommy’s soccer shorts like it was nothing. Ruined my whole prank.”

“Yeah, and I frenched him in your bed that day too,” I say, and Reeve’s eyes go wide.

“For real?”

I nod.

“You ho!” he hoots.

Reeve and I both crack up so hard I’m coughing out a lung, and Lil says, “Um, that’s sexist. Tommy’s the ho! He hooked up with every girl on your block, even the old ones. There’s such a double standard for guys and girls.”

Still laughing, I say, “Lil, quit taking it so seriously. We’re just kidding around.”

“Thank you, DeBrassio,” Reeve says. “She’s always ragging on me. It’s nice to have somebody on my side for once.”

I point at Lillia. “You need to chill out.” Reeve starts clapping, and then I point at him. “And you need to not be so full of yourself. It’s annoying. You ain’t that special.” Reeve opens his mouth to protest, but I shush him. I say to Lillia, “Lil, if you want to hear embarrassing stuff from back in the day, here’s something. In elementary school Reeve was too chickenshit to take a dump at school, so he used to ask to go to the nurse’s office every day after lunch. We all knew where he was going. There was this one day—”