Leah leans against the large dining room table and surveys the snacks. The back of her shirt is sprayed with water.
“Water fight?” I ask.
She laughs. “Just some idiots who turned on the sprinklers and are using lawn chair cushions as a Slip ’N Slide.”
I smile. “Sounds about right.”
Leah plops down in a high-backed wooden chair and pulls over a veggie spread.
I grab a bottle of sparkling water and open it. “Weird night, huh?”
She shrugs. “Kinda. Although, not super surprised.”
“About which part?”
“All of it,” she says as she chews a carrot stick with ranch dressing.
“Amber and Ella?”
“They’ve been taking digs at each other like that for months. This time it just happened in front of everyone.”
I grab a handful of chips, considering my next move. “Must be hard for you, being stuck in the middle.”
“Dude, you have no idea,” Leah says. “Amber can be a lot. I mean a lot. But everyone knows that. It’s really not as shocking as Ella made it out to be.”
“Maybe because Amber went after Justin and Ella’s relationship?”
Leah considers it. “Yeah, maybe she wanted to save face in front of Justin; that’s possible.”
I chew my chip, strategizing how to pry a little further. “I probably shouldn’t say this . . . I feel like it’s not my place, but . . . Nah, you know what, never mind.”
Leah twists off the cap of a water bottle and laughs. “You know you can’t lead with that and then leave me hanging, right? It’s basically cruel.”
Universal rule: gossip is irresistible.
I laugh, too. “I just . . . well, I noticed a look between Amber and Justin earlier. Like sexy eyes?”
Leah hesitates. She looks around the dining room, like she’s debating telling me something, but all she says is, “Yeah, I saw that.”
My phone buzzes, but I’m too focused on Leah to check it.
“You don’t sound surprised,” I press.
“I don’t know,” Leah replies, even though I can tell by her expression that she has an opinion.
“Is Amber usually a flirt?” I ask, casually.
Leah thinks about it. “Selectively.”
“As in selectively with Justin?”
“I . . . You know what?” She laughs. “I’m way too tipsy to be having this conversation.” And her nonanswer tells me everything I need to know.
My phone buzzes again, and this time I do look. A text from August, actually three texts from August, but not the simple Should I join you guys? I thought he’d send. I make a fast excuse and bound up the stairs full speed.
And there in the hall, Justin and August face each other.
“I said lay off her,” August says, and my stomach drops directly out of my butt.
“Get the hell outta here, man,” Justin snaps, and I know that if August pushes, it’s going to get heated; maybe it already is. How much of this did I miss?
“If it’d make you stop manipulating your girlfriend, I’d be game,” August says, and if I thought I was shocked a second ago, I just reached a whole new level of heart attack.
He’s serious in a way that conveys strength. August is tall, and he has muscle tone from swimming, but he’s not a bench presser like Bentley or a football player like Justin. Yet in this moment, I’d bet on him without hesitation. The only thing is, I don’t want to bet on him. What the absolute hell is he doing?
Justin’s face goes red, but before he can respond, I swiftly step between them.
“There you guys are,” I say loud and cheery, like I missed the aggressive posturing. “Justin, not sure if it’s a big deal, but someone turned on your sprinklers, and people are surfing your backyard with chair cushions?”
Justin looks from me to August and back again, like he’s not sure he’s going to take the bait.
“Nowhere near the garden, though, right?” Ella says with a little too much emphasis, and I realize she’s throwing me a bone. “Justin, your mom will murder you.”
I pile on her concern. “I thought I saw someone tossing a piece of a rosebush, but not sure,” I reply, liberally making things up.
“You kidding me right now?” Justin says, aggravation dripping off his words, and I shake my head. He makes a move for the stairs, brushing past August and knocking him back with his shoulder. But when Ella follows him, August looks gutted.
I stare at August, conflicted over wanting to hit him myself and wanting to console him. I knew this case was complicated for him, but August has exceptional impulse control. If he jumped in, it means Justin was so bad he couldn’t brush it off. But that also means his emotions are wrapped up in this case way more than I previously thought. What exactly is going on with my best friend?
“How bad?” I ask when they’re well out of earshot.
“How bad what?” he says, certifiably miffed.
“You and Justin,” I try again, unable to erase the frustration that he seriously compromised our case.
“He was acting like a manipulative dick,” he says, and I know by his tone that he’s collapsing Justin with Kyle.
“So you went on the attack? You couldn’t find a way to distract Justin or defuse the situation? Because interfering with their relationship looks like you’re making a play for Ella. And after the night we’ve had, that’s basically the worst strategy you could employ.”
“It needed to be said,” he counters. “You didn’t see him.”
“I did see him on the boat, remember? You should have waited for me.”
“You didn’t respond to my text.”
I hesitate. “So what, you’re saying this is my fault?”
“No,” he says, but the tension is thick. “Are you saying it’s mine?”
We look at each other and the mutual blame is clear. August is too close to this one; he likes Ella too much. And if he doesn’t watch what he’s doing, this thing is going to blow up in our faces. Maybe it already has.