After DC told me I fit the qualifications of someone he'd murder, I never wanted to speak to him again. So I probably shouldn't have blamed him for something he didn't do, against someone he couldn't stand. It sort of cheesed him off...
Okay, this i...
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I had to do two hard things and both of them hit me like a punch to the gut. One of them was talk to Dorian about Savannah Reed; Ellie had convinced me that it was something that needed to be done. Not necessarily because I believed the girl was guilty, but because I had to cover all of my bases. It was better safe than sorry.
If Lindsay happened to be exposed in that list I didn't think that I would ever get over the trauma Patrick's diary had caused me. Or, okay, that I had caused myself by lowering to his level and putting the thing all over school in the first place. It was time that I accepted it was all my fault; regardless of Elyse's role in the whole thing, she never would have been involved if I hadn't given her the scorebook to start with. It wasn't a hard chain of events to follow.
So it came down to the bottom line, and that was getting Dorian's help. I certainly couldn't go up to Savannah and ask her if she was posting the names, or reason with her to stop if she was. But DC Birch probably could. At least, if anybody I knew could, it would be him. There was something about what was left unsaid in every encounter between them, something about their tension in the air.
I knew that. I absolutely saw it. And I did not want Dorian anywhere near her. But that was because I was one-hundred percent jealous and I could admit that to myself. That strawberry-blonde was practically a beauty queen and she was DC's ex girlfriend. She had every advantage over me and now I was going to ask him to spend time in her presence.
Gently caress.
That wasn't the worst of it.
The second thing I had to do was tell DC about my mother before tomorrow night's dinner. Deciding how I was going to move my mom closer to the idea of accepting the band was a long way off and the last thing I needed was DC spilling the beans before I was ready for it to happen. While I felt I finally trusted him—completely—I didn't think it was wise to leave him uninformed about the minefield he was about to walk into come Friday night.
I was mulling all of this over when he tapped the side of my guitar and asked, "Where'd you go?" Dorian's eyes were on me, the way they usually were, the copper-tent of his eyebrows uplifted in an arch as he waited for my attention to wander back to him.
"Sorry." I blushed, dropping my gaze, recognizing now that my fingers were idly strumming the echoes of a melody as my mind wandered.
"Don't be." He leaned back against the sofa and shook his head. His smile was slow and made my insides rearrange. "It's good." He nodded his head, just slightly, towards my guitar.
"What is?" I asked, coming completely back to the present with the question. My fingers stilled.
"The song you were composing just now." His laughter was soft and… something else. Something just shy of sweet. "What were you thinking about?"
"Tom Riddle," I answered on a quiet sigh, smiling slightly at DC's puzzled expression.
