Twisted Palace
Page 12
“Aspen? For real?” What a dumb-ass name.
Bitsy’s laughter is barely being contained at this point. “It’s Aspen, for real,” she chokes out.
“Jesus, okay. Here’s the deal, Aspen. I’ve dealt with more in my short life than you’ll ever experience, so all the idiotic insults you can come up with only make you look pathetic. I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think of me. Actually, if you don’t step back and rethink your decision to even look in my direction, I’ll make it my sole goal for the rest of this semester to drive you literally insane. I’ll stuff week-old seafood in your locker. I’ll destroy your homework. I’ll tell each and every girl in this place that you have gonorrhea. I’ll have pictures of you wearing girl’s undies made up and distributed in giant full-color prints around school.” I smile coldly at him. “Do you want that to happen to you?”
Aspen’s face turns as white as the snowy town he was named after. “I was just joking,” he mumbles.
“Your jokes suck. Hope you have a job with your daddy waiting, because I can’t imagine your little brain making it through college.” Then I spin around and face the front of the room.
* * *
At lunch, our table is subdued. I fill Val in about Steve’s sudden reappearance, but we don’t get a chance to discuss how shaken up I am about it, because Reed, Easton, and Wade join us instead of sitting at the football table.
That’s the first sign that something is wrong. I mean, Reed’s been charged with murder, so life is very wrong in general, but the fact that he’s not sitting with his teammates tells me that things are worse than I thought.
“You really didn’t get in trouble for fighting at school?” I murmur to him as he settles in the seat next to mine.
He shakes his head. “Got a warning.” Then his expression grows tortured. “But you know it’s gonna get back to Dad and my lawyer. They won’t like it.”
I don’t like it, but I paste on an encouraging smile because I know he’s already under enough stress as it is. It’s just…
I love Reed, I really do, but his temper is his own worst enemy. If he can’t get himself under control, things could get a million times worse for him.
Across the table, Val moves her kale salad around her plate. Her gaze keeps darting toward Wade and then back to her plate. Wade is doing the same thing—sneaking peeks at Val before focusing intently on his burger.
They’re making obvious efforts not to look at each other, and for some reason that cheers me up. It’s nice to see that I’m not the only one in a state of pure misery.
Immediately, guilt gets the better of me, because if Val’s studiously avoiding Wade and he’s too embarrassed to meet her eyes, then something bad must have happened. I make a mental note to ask Val about it when we’re alone.
“So,” Wade says when the silence becomes unbearably long. “Who’s excited about Winter Formal?”
Nobody answers.
“Really? No one?” He slides a pointed look to Val. “What about you, Carrington? Got a date?”
She gives him a stony glare. “I’m not going.”
The table goes quiet again. Val picks at her salad with the same half-hearted energy I’m using to pick at my chicken.
“Not hungry?” Reed asks gruffly.
“I don’t have much of an appetite,” I admit.
“You worried?” he murmurs.
“A little.” More like a lot, but I tamp down the truth and paste on another smile.
I think Reed sees through it, because he leans over and kisses me. I let him distract me with his mouth because it feels good, but deep down I know that kisses are a temporary fix.
Pulling back, I tell him that. “You can’t kiss the worry out of me.”
His hand roams up my side to settle right under my breast. His thumb brushes the bottom curve, sending shivers through me. I stare into his blue eyes, full of wicked promise, and decide, okay, maybe he can kiss the worry out of me.
I move a few strands of his silky hair away from his face, wishing we were alone and he could turn his unspoken promises into a reality. His hands tug me forward so he can kiss me again. This time, I open my mouth and let his tongue sweep inside.
“Not while I’m eating,” Easton groans. “You’re ruining my appetite.”
“I don’t think that’s remotely possible,” Val says.
I smile against Reed’s mouth and then settle back in my seat.
“Well, I’m getting turned on. Anyone want to make a trip to the bathroom with me?” Wade asks cheerfully.
Val’s mouth stays firmly shut.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” Reed tells me. “Except Easton’s stomach maybe. He might need medical attention after inhaling all those carbs.” He gestures to the mountain of pasta on Easton’s plate.
“I’m a nervous eater,” his brother replies.
I make an attempt to follow Reed’s lead and lighten the mood. “What was your excuse last week when you ate an entire batch of cookies?”
“That was just me being hungry. Besides, they were cookies. Who needs an excuse to eat cookies?”
“I feel like that’s a sexual question,” Wade chimes in. “And the correct answer is, no one ever needs an excuse to eat cookies.”
“You do need permission, though,” Val says tersely, focusing her gaze on Wade for the first time since he sat down. “And if your mouth is all over someone else’s cookies, then other bakers aren’t going to be interested in offering you their cookies.”
Then she gets up from the table and stomps off.
“Hey!” Wade shouts after her. “I only had those other cookies that one time and only because the baker I wanted to get the cookies from was closed!”
He shoots up from his seat and hustles after Val, leaving Easton, Reed, and me staring after them.
“I have a feeling they aren’t talking about cookies,” Easton remarks.
No kidding. And as much as I hate seeing Val upset, I can’t help but envy her problems.
Relationship issues are a lot easier to manage when you’re not worrying that your boyfriend might go to prison.
7
Bitsy’s laughter is barely being contained at this point. “It’s Aspen, for real,” she chokes out.
“Jesus, okay. Here’s the deal, Aspen. I’ve dealt with more in my short life than you’ll ever experience, so all the idiotic insults you can come up with only make you look pathetic. I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think of me. Actually, if you don’t step back and rethink your decision to even look in my direction, I’ll make it my sole goal for the rest of this semester to drive you literally insane. I’ll stuff week-old seafood in your locker. I’ll destroy your homework. I’ll tell each and every girl in this place that you have gonorrhea. I’ll have pictures of you wearing girl’s undies made up and distributed in giant full-color prints around school.” I smile coldly at him. “Do you want that to happen to you?”
Aspen’s face turns as white as the snowy town he was named after. “I was just joking,” he mumbles.
“Your jokes suck. Hope you have a job with your daddy waiting, because I can’t imagine your little brain making it through college.” Then I spin around and face the front of the room.
* * *
At lunch, our table is subdued. I fill Val in about Steve’s sudden reappearance, but we don’t get a chance to discuss how shaken up I am about it, because Reed, Easton, and Wade join us instead of sitting at the football table.
That’s the first sign that something is wrong. I mean, Reed’s been charged with murder, so life is very wrong in general, but the fact that he’s not sitting with his teammates tells me that things are worse than I thought.
“You really didn’t get in trouble for fighting at school?” I murmur to him as he settles in the seat next to mine.
He shakes his head. “Got a warning.” Then his expression grows tortured. “But you know it’s gonna get back to Dad and my lawyer. They won’t like it.”
I don’t like it, but I paste on an encouraging smile because I know he’s already under enough stress as it is. It’s just…
I love Reed, I really do, but his temper is his own worst enemy. If he can’t get himself under control, things could get a million times worse for him.
Across the table, Val moves her kale salad around her plate. Her gaze keeps darting toward Wade and then back to her plate. Wade is doing the same thing—sneaking peeks at Val before focusing intently on his burger.
They’re making obvious efforts not to look at each other, and for some reason that cheers me up. It’s nice to see that I’m not the only one in a state of pure misery.
Immediately, guilt gets the better of me, because if Val’s studiously avoiding Wade and he’s too embarrassed to meet her eyes, then something bad must have happened. I make a mental note to ask Val about it when we’re alone.
“So,” Wade says when the silence becomes unbearably long. “Who’s excited about Winter Formal?”
Nobody answers.
“Really? No one?” He slides a pointed look to Val. “What about you, Carrington? Got a date?”
She gives him a stony glare. “I’m not going.”
The table goes quiet again. Val picks at her salad with the same half-hearted energy I’m using to pick at my chicken.
“Not hungry?” Reed asks gruffly.
“I don’t have much of an appetite,” I admit.
“You worried?” he murmurs.
“A little.” More like a lot, but I tamp down the truth and paste on another smile.
I think Reed sees through it, because he leans over and kisses me. I let him distract me with his mouth because it feels good, but deep down I know that kisses are a temporary fix.
Pulling back, I tell him that. “You can’t kiss the worry out of me.”
His hand roams up my side to settle right under my breast. His thumb brushes the bottom curve, sending shivers through me. I stare into his blue eyes, full of wicked promise, and decide, okay, maybe he can kiss the worry out of me.
I move a few strands of his silky hair away from his face, wishing we were alone and he could turn his unspoken promises into a reality. His hands tug me forward so he can kiss me again. This time, I open my mouth and let his tongue sweep inside.
“Not while I’m eating,” Easton groans. “You’re ruining my appetite.”
“I don’t think that’s remotely possible,” Val says.
I smile against Reed’s mouth and then settle back in my seat.
“Well, I’m getting turned on. Anyone want to make a trip to the bathroom with me?” Wade asks cheerfully.
Val’s mouth stays firmly shut.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” Reed tells me. “Except Easton’s stomach maybe. He might need medical attention after inhaling all those carbs.” He gestures to the mountain of pasta on Easton’s plate.
“I’m a nervous eater,” his brother replies.
I make an attempt to follow Reed’s lead and lighten the mood. “What was your excuse last week when you ate an entire batch of cookies?”
“That was just me being hungry. Besides, they were cookies. Who needs an excuse to eat cookies?”
“I feel like that’s a sexual question,” Wade chimes in. “And the correct answer is, no one ever needs an excuse to eat cookies.”
“You do need permission, though,” Val says tersely, focusing her gaze on Wade for the first time since he sat down. “And if your mouth is all over someone else’s cookies, then other bakers aren’t going to be interested in offering you their cookies.”
Then she gets up from the table and stomps off.
“Hey!” Wade shouts after her. “I only had those other cookies that one time and only because the baker I wanted to get the cookies from was closed!”
He shoots up from his seat and hustles after Val, leaving Easton, Reed, and me staring after them.
“I have a feeling they aren’t talking about cookies,” Easton remarks.
No kidding. And as much as I hate seeing Val upset, I can’t help but envy her problems.
Relationship issues are a lot easier to manage when you’re not worrying that your boyfriend might go to prison.
7
