Dangerous Girls

“Yes,” I insist. “We said, like, a million times—”

“I know that. But, I know you’d do anything to protect him.” Lamar’s eyes are watching me, careful.

I don’t say anything, and that must be enough, because he exhales sadly. “Anna—”

“Don’t.” I stop him, glancing around. “We’ll be fine. This is all going to be over soon.”

“Are you sure?” Lamar drums his fingertips nervously. “Because I’ve been thinking, about the way he was with Elise. I always wondered . . .”

He stops. I feel a shiver of unease.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.” He looks away. “Just be careful, that’s all. His family is loaded; you know they’ll do whatever it takes to get him back home.”

“And that’s a good thing,” I tell him as the buzzer sounds the end of visiting hours. “We have the best lawyers,” I add quickly. “They’re working round the clock. Everything’s going to be okay.”

A guard’s voice interrupts us, bored. “Everybody out!”

Lamar rises from his seat. “Take care of yourself,” he tells me softly, pressing his hand to the glass. I mirror it, matched but not touching, the closest thing to human contact I’ve had in days.

“I will. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

My voice wavers, but he’s already gone.

THE FIRST NIGHT

“This is Niklas.” Elise presents him like a game-show host displaying her prize. “His dad owns, like, half the island.”

We’re outside the bar in the cool two a.m. breeze, the music muffled and fading as we gather on the dusty street. Niklas is the guy from the VIP booth, the one Elise set her sights on: blond hair artfully mussed over ice-blue eyes, dressed in a preppy oxford shirt and jeans with an expensive watch on his wrist. He lights a cigarette for her with a silver block lighter, nodding a vague greeting to the rest of us.

“Where to next?” Chelsea asks, yawning.

“I’m tired.” Mel holds on to her for balance, easing off one heel to massage her foot. “Let’s just head home.”

“Baby”—Elise’s voice is only half-teasing—“the night is young.” She smiles flirtatiously up at Niklas. “What do you say, where’s a good place for an after-party?”

He shrugs. “Depends. I could show you. . . .”

“I’m sure you could.” Elise laughs and leans in closer to him, exhaling her cigarette smoke away in a long plume. She murmurs something in Niklas’s ear and he smirks, taking the cigarette from between her figures to suck down a drag of his own, his other hand drifting from her waist to rest on the curve of her ass.

It’s fast work, but I’m not surprised. Elise has seduction down to an art. After we started frequenting the bars and clubs with all the college boys, she woke up to her power; we both did. High school is a weird puritanical world of rules and standards, where your reputation matters way more than a sweaty, backroom kiss—where every slight and so-called indiscretion gets tallied and tracked. But outside those walls . . . We discovered the rules are different. Better. I could kiss a boy, breathless against the back wall of some club, and then just walk away, not even knowing his name. Or, like Elise, do more. Do whatever we wanted. No rules, no judging stares, or whispers come Monday morning. It’s just about us, and the low pull in our gut, the shiver in our bloodstream.

Desire.

Elise meets my eyes with a lazy smile, Niklas tracing idle circles on her half-naked back. I smile. Mel is scowling suspiciously at him, but I understand—every anonymous boy, every late-night touch. I would do it too, if I didn’t have Tate. And why not? We want, we take, we have. It’s simple.

The guys stumble out of the club behind us, Max already blurry-eyed and flushed. AK has a lipstick mark on his cheek, bright pink. I laugh, reaching over to wipe it off.

“What can I say?” AK grins. “I’m irresistible.”

“Sure you are,” I agree, linking my arm through his. “Or maybe it was those free drinks you kept offering.”

“A guy’s got to work with what he’s got.”

We start wandering back down the street toward the beach house. I meander slowly between the guys, but Elise and Niklas hang back.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Elise calls, Niklas’s arm draped around her shoulder. We stop.

“You’re leaving?” Mel’s eyes widen. “But Elise—”

“Nik’s going to give me a tour of the island.” Elise grins suggestively. “He knows a great Thai spot. See you later!”

I raise my hand to wave good-bye, but Tate speaks up. “I could get some food.” He looks around for agreement. “Guys?”

“Fuck yeah.” Lamar nods. Max murmurs something, slurring.

Elise gives me an exasperated look, but I just shrug. “I’m kind of hungry too,” I say, an apologetic note in my voice.

“Fine,” Elise sighs. “Group trip. Yay.”

We meander through the town center, still bright and full of activity. The bars spill tourists out onto the street, pop music and cheesy reggae drifting in snatches as we pass. The air is full of celebration, and even though we’re all tired, we feel it too: Lamar pulling Chelsea in to dance to a familiar song, Mel and Elise singing along until we reach the takeout spot Niklas mentioned. It’s just a run-down shack on the beachfront, but the scent of ginger and hot chilis drifts in the air, and the benches out front are packed with locals.

“So what do you do?” Mel quizzes Niklas as we order a feast of pad Thai and noodles.

“Do?” He gives her an arrogant smile.

“I mean, are you in school?” Mel presses. “Do you have a job?”

“Mel!” Elise protests.

“What? I’m just asking.”

Niklas shrugs. “My father has several businesses.” His accent is American, but edged with that lilting Dutch tone. “Real estate, import-export. I help out sometimes.”

Elise laughs. “Admit it,” she says, teasing, “you just sit around on the beach all day and party all night.”

Niklas stares at her a moment, his eyes cool. Then his lips crease into a grin. “You got me,” he agrees. “And what’s so wrong with that?”

“Absolutely nothing, my friend.” AK slaps him on the back, sloppy. “Fucking paradise, you’ve got here.”