“And where are you working?” Maggie leaned in eagerly.
“Oh. I- I work at a comic book store. I know that sounds lame, but-”
“Are you kidding? That sounds awesome! I remember those comics you used to draw. They were so good! And the story lines were amazing!”
“Ash writes too,” Trace prompted. “She took all that experience and she now has several romances published.”
“What?” Maggie’s mouth dropped open.
“Just online. Nothing serious,” Ash mumbled, embarrassed. She elbowed Trace in the ribs, but he just winked at her. Of course, that got all sorts of things stirring inside.
Maggie’s smile fell as her eyes strayed to the door and it took Ash all of one second to figure out why. Sonja Wills. AKA the bane of their entire high school existence. How someone could be so mean and ruthless and still be so pretty and popular was beyond Ash. Really, honestly, she was sure the universe would have taken care of that by then.
Apparently not. Sonja still had incredible genetics. She walked into the place like she owned it. She’d grown out her hair and it hung down her shoulders, thick and blonde and practically glistening in the overhead lights. Her dress was skin tight and looked expensive and of course it was red. It was matched with a pair of sky-high black heels. Her fingers were curled around a black clutch and her nails were painted a blood red to match her dress.
How very appropriate to claw us with.
The guy on her arm was, unfortunately, because the universe wasn’t fair at all, devastatingly gorgeous. He didn’t hold a candle to Trace or anything, but then again, he wasn’t the kind of guy Ash would ever go for. He had short cropped blonde hair, the muscly build of a former quarterback, hell, maybe he still played sports. She remembered he was a lawyer, but maybe he still threw a mean football in his spare time. The point was, he looked good. He had the double dimpled smile and all. His face looked like a work of art, carved from stone. He’d actually worn a suit and it looked expensive.
He and Sonja looked like money. They looked like they’d just rolled in it, but fully clothed, since they couldn’t stand to touch each other anymore.
Ash swallowed hard. She stiffened until she noticed the way the guy’s eyes immediately wondered condescendingly all over the gym before they lit on Jenny Farn’s breast. It was subtle, but there was no mistaking the way the guy moved away from Sonja like she was poison, and went to mingle, easily with fake charm, around the gym. His eyes kept darting back to Jenny’s tits the whole time.
“Wow. What a piece of work,” Trace said under his breath.
“I know. He’s looking at everyone’s tits but Sonja’s.”
“I’d be happy about that,” Maggie said as she shrank back beside Ash. “But I think it’s kind of sad. I mean, you can tell they’re clearly miserable together. Who wouldn’t be, yoked to her?”
“He’s no prize,” Trace said. “He looks like it, but I know that type. The asshole type. My sister dated a few guys like that. I wasn’t above kicking their ass when they treated her like shit.”
“Really?” Maggie grinned. She flashed Ash a thumbs up. “I like him. He’s definitely a keeper.” She lowered her voice. “Do you think he’d kick Sonja’s ass for us?”
Ash snorted. “No. Unfortunately she’s not a dude.” She went cold all over and she knew without turning her gaze that Sonja had spotted them. “Oh fuck,” she breathed. “God, Maggie, she’s coming this way.” She was glad that she had Trace beside her. Maggie tucked in so close she was practically on top of Ash.
“This is not happening. She looks like she’s on the warpath.”
Ash shuddered and winced at the same time. Even Trace’s arm wasn’t as comforting as it had been a second before. The entire gym felt cold and constricted, like it had wrapped itself around her and was cutting off her oxygen supply. She felt like every single person in the room was staring at them, that time itself stopped, but that was ridiculous. No one was looking at them. People laughed and talked and mingled all around the place. Devon kept right on playing one horrible tune after another. Clearly, he’d decided that a cheesy wedding playlist was the best way to go.
No one noticed her at all in the corner. That is, until Sonja sauntered over, all smiles and fake sweetness and poison under that hideous coating of fake sugar.
Not even Trace could protect her from the wave of malice that Sonja shot her way. As though she and Maggie did something wrong just by existing. God, can’t anyone just grow up? High school was ten years ago!
Ash stood straight. She refused to cower in front of Sonja, even when her pretty dark eyes shot daggers her way. Her makeup was flawless and tasteful. She actually could have been pretty if she wasn’t literally such a frigid bitch. Pretty sure that statement was invented just for her.