“You’re staring,” Logan said.
Ashley turned the ignition and the truck rattled to life. “You’re making me look underdressed.”
“I don’t think so.” Logan glanced at Ashley’s legs, then pulled down the passenger-side mirror to wipe away a stray bit of lipstick. “Your shorts are cute.”
Ashley smiled. She’d gone with her standard fare: a black tank top, denim shorts, and a flannel around her waist in case they ended up outside. She mostly thought of it as practical, but Tristan had always said she looked cute.
Guilt knotted in her stomach.
They drove out of town on the lakeside highway. The evening sky was the color of bruised knuckles as night crept in. The still lake glimmered white with moonlight, holding up the jagged black hills on the other shore. Orange blips of campfire radiated from the campground across the water, but it was all worlds away.
Ashley cleared her throat. Quietly, to Logan, she said, “So, the cabin … I asked my mom about it.”
“What did Tammy say?” Logan asked, tapping idly at her phone.
“I found out who owns it—technically, we do.” She waited for Logan to look up. “My grandma bought the land from the state, like, twenty years ago? She wanted my mom to turn it into a resort, but my mom didn’t think it would make any money. She let some family build on the property back in the nineties.”
“The nineties?” Logan asked. “It looks like it hasn’t been touched since the Oregon Trail.”
“I know. She doesn’t know why it looks like that, either.”
“Huh.” Logan leaned into the back of her seat. “She hasn’t gone out to see it?”
“Apparently not.”
“Then it looks like we’ll have to investigate.”
“You…” Ashley scowled, eyeing Nick and Elexis through the rearview mirror. Softer, she said, “Do they know what we’re doing?”
“They don’t care,” Logan whispered. “I’m pretty sure they think I’m joking. Seriously, relax about them. They’ll probably hang out with each other the whole time. I just didn’t wanna be totally alone at this thing.”
“You wouldn’t’ve been alone,” Ashley said. “You’re with me.”
Logan said nothing.
By the time they pulled into the gravel turnout at the end of the highway, John’s white Silverado was already parked. Through the trees, Ashley spotted the faint yellow glow of camping lanterns inside the bones of the old cabin. It felt like she was putting Logan on trial, or like she was putting herself on trial and Logan was the damning evidence. Either way, she was about to face the jury.
“Okay, guys,” Ashley said. “It might be kinda weird at first, but that’s just—”
Logan threw open the passenger door and hopped out of the truck. “Because we’re losers? It’s usually just you and your mean friends and you don’t like outsiders. We appreciate the heads up. We’ll be fine.”
Elexis followed her out of the truck, but Nick remained buckled in the back seat. He looked at Ashley and cleared his throat. “I was listening to you.”
Ashley flashed a tense smile through the rearview mirror. “Thanks, Nick.”
The four of them made their way through the woods, following the thumping sound of country music to the cabin. Ashley shouldered her way to the front of their small group to open the door. She prayed it would be just another get-together and no one would bat an eye at the LA socialite and her accompanying nerds.
A wave of heat and beer smell greeted them on the other side of the door. For a moment, the cabin fell silent. John, Paul, and Fran were all crowded on the sofa in the corner of the room. Bug stood next to them, leaning on the old piano with a can of PBR and wide eyes. All four stared at Ashley with matching creased brows, waiting for some kind of explanation. She’d barely gotten permission to bring Logan—bringing Elexis and Nick was a mistake.