Gemma
Ithink I like it better when they’re flat-out mean to me. At least then, I know where I stand. I know what to expect.
This whole pretending-to-care-about-me act is enough to make my skin crawl. I want to scream as we walk into the restaurant, an upscale burger and sandwich place whose prices make my eyes bug out when the server brings us our menus. Everything’s a la carte, too, and the burgers alone are twenty dollars without toppings. It’s the little things that make me feel poor.
Denver practically forces me into the semi-circular booth next to his brother, then he slides in beside me. I’m stuck in the middle. Trapped. No way out unless I want to crawl under the table, which is honestly looking like a good option at the moment.
“Relax. We aren’t going to bite.” I don’t know where Denver gets off sounding so irritated. He’s the one who manhandled me into the car, then into this booth. He’s the one who had to follow me to the mall because apparently, I don’t deserve privacy.
“Not unless you want us to.” Odis’s leg brushes up against mine under the table, and I pull away.
“No, thanks.”
“What is it with you?” he demands, and I swear he’s about a second away from pouting. Poor baby, not used to not getting his way even when he acts like an asshole. “Are you still pissed about earlier?”
“Gee, why would I be?” They’re both so oblivious, it’s painful. “You let that bitch humiliate me when you could’ve told her to leave way before that happened. I almost drowned!”
At my reminder, another spark of guilt shoots in both of their eyes. “We didn’t mean that to happen. If we had known you couldn’t swim, we wouldn’t have let you near the pool.”
“And then you stalked me. Don’t forget that part.”
Odis cracks a little smile, and his mood lightens. “You’re so dramatic.”
“We followed you because you were acting weird back at the house.” Denver scowls. “Did it ever occur to you that we might be concerned about you? As a person?”
I stared him straight in the eye, unblinking. “No. Not for a single second.”
He opens his mouth, and I can tell he’s going to say something mean or sarcastic—but something else catches my attention, and I forget all about him the second I see Chelsey’s fake blonde hair shimmering as she steps into the restaurant.
I wish I didn’t feel so much like a scared rabbit, frozen stiff. My stomach turns to ice, and my fingers dig into the padded seat. So that’s what this is all about. “You are such fucking liars,” I spit, staring at my lap. The thought of crawling under the table to escape is starting to look better. “Which one of you set this up?”
“What are you talking about?” Odis shifts in the booth, sitting up a little straighter so he can see over the top. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he growls when he spots her.
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Denver assures me. I’m supposed to believe that? All I can do is sit here with my mouth shut, knowing that the more anxious I get, the worse my stuttering will become. And I’ll be damned if I give that bitch one more thing to make fun of me about.
How can they do this to me? What the hell did I ever do to them or anyone else to deserve this?
“Look what we have here.” Chelsey’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard, and I have to keep myself from cringing. “I’m surprised you would show your face around here. It’s one thing to lock yourself in the house where nobody can see you, but it takes balls to go out in public.”
“She has every right to be here.” At least Odis sounds pissed. He’s not doing one of those fake jokey voices that anybody could see through like we’re all friends, and this is just a misunderstanding.
“Why don’t you just leave us alone?” Denver asks. Unlike his brother, he doesn’t sound pissed off. He sounds dangerous.
Chelsey is oblivious, though. She slides into the booth, rubbing up against Odis. I watch her from the corner of my eye, unwilling to look straight at her. I know it seems like I’m afraid, and she can think that if she wants to. Honestly, I would rather not have to see her at all.
“Come on. Let’s be friends. There’s plenty of room in this booth, right?” That question is directed at her friends, who, of course, don’t have minds of their own, so they try to squeeze in on the other side, next to Denver. If they press in any tighter, I’ll end up getting crushed in the middle.
“There really isn’t. Why don’t you go find a table for yourselves?” Denver is not gentle about pushing the girls off him. Neither of them seems like they’re kidding around, but Chelsey can’t seem to take a hint.
“Odis…” From under my lashes, I have the misfortune of watching Chelsey rubbing her boobs all over Odis’s arm. I don’t know if I want to throw up or claw her eyes out. The fact that I feel somewhat possessive of him is probably the grossest part of all of this because he doesn’t deserve it. So what if he kissed me—forced himself on me, more like? So what if he was nice to me for, like, two seconds today? That’s not enough to make up for everything else, not even close.
Still, I want to tell her to get off him, and not only because I can’t stand her. Someday when I have the time and the money for therapy, maybe I’ll figure out where this weird reaction is coming from.
“You’re wasting your time,” he says in a quiet voice, and I guess I have to give him a little bit of credit for not making a big scene. And even though she’s repulsive, he doesn’t want to embarrass her more than she’s already embarrassing herself. Or am I overthinking this? Either way, the girl has zero self-awareness. Anybody can see he’s not into her.
“You didn’t use to think that,” she whispers, her eyes cutting my way. I lower mine, but not quick enough to miss her glossy lips curving into a smug smile. I’m pretty sure she was born wearing that expression.
“I don’t live in the past. Maybe you should think about that while you’re thinking about the way you treat other people.”