“I know, I know,” he says, waving me off. “I’ve heard the talk about family expectations and keeping up appearances just as many times as you have, it’s why we’ve been screwing seniors since we were freshmen. Gotta say, I’m surprised you’re letting Starling go with blondie, I figured you’d want eyes on her.”

A low, dry laugh falls from my lips as I move toward my Mercedes. “I said she could ride with her; I didn’t say we wouldn’t be following. Find out where Evan and Hunter are, we’re leaving the moment little bird leaves, whether they’re here or not.”

“Dude, you are so whipped,” he laughs.

“Just thoroughly obsessed.”

By the time Courtney’s car drives out the school gates, we’re behind her, staying on her tail the entire way back to Starling’s place despite their attempt to lose us by taking several random detours and attempting to outrun us on a stretch of quiet road.

“What the hell, Sebastian? Why are you here?” Starling demands the moment she barrels out of Courtney’s car.

“We’re eating at my place,” I tell her calmly, grabbing her wrist when she’s close enough and pulling her into my chest.

Fighting me, she slams her fists against my pecs, but I just hold her tighter, immobilizing her. “Behave, little bird, go and say goodbye to your friend.”

“I’d rather say goodbye to you. I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours dealing with you and all your bullshit, I just want to go in my house, get into my comfy clothes and search for a new job while I try to pretend you don’t exist,” she says, exhaling tiredly.

“Say goodbye to your friend,” I snarl as calmly as I can muster.

Her eyes close and she exhales, her shoulders slumping as she turns and pads resignedly to Courtney’s car. I’m not sure exactly what she says to the cheerleader, but they embrace through the window before Courtney backs the car down onto the street and waves gleefully to me as she speeds off back toward North Acres.

Without saying a word, Starling wraps her fingers around the straps of her backpack, climbs the steps to her door, opens it and walks inside without even a backward glance. Watching it swing shut, I smile to myself, then turn back to the car and my friends who are waiting inside.

“I have to go and deal with my girl. Go home, grab the Lambo, then drop it off back here for me in an hour or so. I’ll negotiate with my angry little bird, then bring her home to hang out later.”

“Let’s watch a movie at mine, the media room refurb is finally finished and we can chill,” Hunter suggests.

“Sounds good, can someone let my mom know I’m eating dinner with Starling?”

“Sure, dude, have fun.” Clay laughs.

Flicking him the bird, I head for the front door, open it and let myself in. I can hear Starling talking to her mom on one side of the house, so I follow the sound and find myself outside a tiny, and what appears to be a very cluttered office space. Cassidy is behind a small desk, the wall behind it is covered in Post-it notes with strings connecting one note to the next. It’s like a serial killer lair, which is kind of apt considering Cassidy writes books about murderers.