Rachel brushes away the strands of hair sticking to her face. We’ve danced tonight, her and I. Not much, but enough that it’s worn Rachel out. An accident a few months back killed her stamina, and for a time her ability to walk, but she’s on her feet again and loved the idea of dancing and I love her enough to make her happy.

Rachel, Logan and I will start our senior year of high school this fall and thanks to Logan’s IQ and having divorced parents, he’s now attending school with Rachel and me. We only have a few weeks left until life becomes completely complicated and chaotic.

Isaiah, Logan, and Rachel’s older brother, West, left a few minutes ago to bring Isaiah’s car around and they’re taking too long. I was banking on them leaving by eleven-thirty, but West tagging along with us bought Rachel another half hour of time. Her damn older brother doing some damn interfering. She needs to leave because I have an appointment, and I don’t like mixing my friends with clients.

Ricky told me not to sell, but he didn’t tell me I couldn’t hold an interview.

“Stay the night with me.” Rachel rests her water bottle on the seat beside her. “We’ll pick up tacos and maybe some queso on the way home.”

My eyes snap to hers at the mention of queso, and I hate that my stomach rumbles. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

She knows why not. “I told you, there’s a boy that needs to be kissed. Just think how lonely he’ll be when no one kisses him on his upcoming break. It’s seriously a tough sacrifice on my part, but someone needs to boost his ego. No one wants to watch a sad and broken guitar player unless they’re a hipster at a coffee shop.”

Lying for me is easier than telling the truth. Plus, I’d rather live in a world where I was going to kiss the boy instead of crucifying my soul.

“If you’re going to kiss a boy, I’d prefer for you to kiss Logan.”

I laugh, but it fades when I notice she’s not laughing or smiling with me. At times, Rachel’s too serious for my taste.

Isaiah swept Rachel and West into my life a few months back, and during that process, Logan also became a fixture in my life. Before them, I didn’t do friends, but Isaiah was already exempt from my nonfriendship rule and I made another special exception for Rachel and West. But I did that for my father. Neither of them knows that and neither is aware of the why. Because of how my life works, it’ll stay a secret on my end.

But Logan...Logan is a selfish indulgence. I like him and that’s not fair to either of us.

“Let’s do tacos tomorrow. I’ll buy.” I won’t. I’ll con West or Isaiah into buying, but I’ll still take credit for the tacos because that’s how I roll.

“Logan’s a great guy, and even I notice how he looks at you.”

Logan looks at me like he also really enjoys queso, but there’s nothing serious going on between us. We play. Sort of like we’re seven and playing tag and we’re both continuously “it.” Plus he deserves better than what I have to offer. Even Logan’s aware of that, hence why he asked about my current employment.

My cell buzzes and Isaiah informs me he’s outside and ready to leave. Thank freaking Jesus. “Let’s go before the boys stalk in here looking for you and ruin my chances with guitar boy.”

Before she can say anything else, I grab her hand and lead her through the crowd. A few times I turn in her direction and encourage her to dance with the beat. Rachel doesn’t mind using her body for the purpose of music and neither do I. My body is meant to be used, I just wish sometimes I used it a little less.

Sometimes I’m lonely, sometimes I chase after lust. A few times I’ve been used and there are a few times I’ve used in return. Any way about it, there’s never emotion. Just bodies and it’s pretty hollow and meaningless.

At school, a lot of people call me names, say that I’m evil, label me a slut and even a killer. Maybe it’s all true. Maybe it’s not. Regardless, I don’t have time to overthink anyone’s thoughts or judgments.

People who live in the luxury of a steady paycheck and food in their bellies get too caught up in right and wrong, moral and immoral, good and bad, heroes and villains, even truth and lies. As if we’re all either one or the other. As if we all have a choice. As if I have a choice. But I don’t believe in choices. I believe in survival.

The moment we step outside, the heat of the August night hits us in a way that reminds me why I love being awake after midnight. It’s like walking into a warm bath surrounded by starlight. I was made for warm weather. Maybe that’s because I often feel emotionally cold.

Isaiah’s Mustang growls in front of the club. Logan hops out of the passenger side and moves the seat forward so I can enter the back. His black hair moves with the gentle breeze and he studies me like he thinks I’ll slide in. “Come eat with us, Abby. I’m buying tacos.”

I tilt my head in an annoyed way and he adds, “For everyone.”

I toss a glare into the backseat where West is sitting. If he told them that I only eat when his boss decides to share his lunch or dinner I will publicly castrate him. Because West doesn’t cower, not even from me, he meets my eyes and shakes his head that he’s kept my secret. Not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.

“Tomorrow,” I say and circle back for the club.

Seconds before I’m about to step in, a strong hand catches my wrist and Logan’s dark eyes bore into mine. I suck in a breath. Yes, this boy is definitely made for sin. The type of sin that involves his shirt off, my hands sliding through his mess of black hair, and his lips devouring mine.