He returned to his own station just as Erin sidled up behind me. “Um, excuse me? Did I just hear you flirting with Nate?”
“No.” My cheeks were burning again, and I knew they were probably bright pink. “He was just telling me about his party.”
She raised a brow. “Uh-huh,” she said, drawing the syllables out in a way that made it clear she didn’t believe me. “By the way, why did someone just tell me that you shot Bobbi Kesinovic while I was in the bathroom?”
I groaned. “Long story.”
By the time school was over for the day, my energy was completely sapped. I wanted to go straight home, but I’d promised Erin that I’d study with her in the library for a couple of hours, so I grudgingly stayed and tried my best to keep my eyes open.
When she finally dropped me off at home, I inwardly sighed as soon as I stepped through the front door. Raucous shrieks and giggles were filtering into the foyer from the closest loungeroom, along with deep masculine voices. That meant Jax was hanging out in there with a bunch of his friends.
I wanted to sneak upstairs so no one would say anything to me, but my stomach was rumbling with hunger, so I headed for the kitchen instead. Unfortunately, the room Jax and the others were occupying was in the same part of the house as the kitchen, which meant I had to pass right by them.
As I walked past, I glanced over to see Jax, a few of his friends from the football team, and a bevy of pretty girls including Cerina, Harlow, and Bobbi. A few of the girls waved at me and offered me tiny smiles. Cerina and her two besties mean-mugged me instead.
“I’m so sorry you feel unsafe now, Bobbi,” Cerina said loudly. “But to be fair, Kinsey probably can’t help shooting at people. She’s from Oakland, remember?”
I rolled my eyes, already sick of her stupid jabs about my home city. I’d always thought it had an undeserved bad reputation. Sure, there were rougher parts where violent crime was a serious issue, but you could say that about every other dense urban area too. A lot of the nasty opinions people had about the place were the result of classist attitudes and overly-dramatized depictions in the media.
There was no point trying to explain any of that to a stuck-up Crown Point asshole like Cerina Vincent, though. She came from a family that was part of the new Gilded Age of America, so she’d probably never understand the real world.
The others in the loungeroom laughed at Cerina’s snide comment. Even the girls who’d waved at me joined in, much to my annoyance. I kept a straight face and ignored all of them, but then one of Jax’s football friends—Brent, maybe?—called out to me. “Hey, Kinsey! Stop for a sec.”
I turned to look at him. “What?” I said, giving him a withering look.
He patted his stomach. “If you’re going to the kitchen, make me a sandwich. I’m fucking starving.”
I flipped him off, and he laughed. “I’m just kidding!” he said, lifting his hands in mock defeat. “But seriously, can you grab me a drink while you’re in there?”
“Gethimto do it,” I replied, casting a dark look at Jax. “He lives here, so he knows where everything is.”
As I spoke, I noticed that one of Cerina’s hands was slowly sliding up Jax’s leg. He pushed it off a second later and shifted away from her. A tiny part of me filled with glee at the sight. It wasn’t because I wanted Jax for myself. I hated him. I just didn’t want someone like Cerina to get what she wanted.
I turned away from the loungeroom and went into the kitchen. After viewing the contents of the fridge, I decided to reheat the leftovers from last night’s dinner. I tipped it into a bowl and put it in the microwave to zap it, and then I went back to the fridge to get myself some orange and mango juice.
Maeve came into the kitchen a moment later. “Hi, Kinsey. Did you have a good day at school?” she asked, giving me a warm smile.
“It was okay,” I said. “Sorry, am I in your way?”
“No, of course not,” she said, casually waving a hand. “I’m just about to get started on dinner. It’ll take a while, so I hope you’re not too hungry.”
I jabbed a thumb in the direction of the microwave. “I’m starving, but I’m going to tide myself over with some of that sweet potato curry from last night. It’s so good. You’re honestly the best cook I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you! That’s very sweet of you to say,” she said. She turned to inspect the spice rack in the corner, and then she looked back at me. “Oh, by the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
I raised a brow. “What is it?”
“When I was dusting in your room the other day, I noticed the blue and white ginger jar you have on the shelf near the window. The pattern on it is exquisite. Where did you get it? I’d love to get a few of them for myself.”
I swallowed hard. “Uhh… that’s actually an urn. It has my father’s ashes in it.”
Maeve’s eyes widened. “Oh! I had no idea,” she said, one hand fluttering at her chest. “I thought your mother met George at your father’s funeral, so I assumed he was buried.”
“Dad’s will said that he wanted to be cremated when he died, but his family wanted a grave to visit,” I explained. “So they respected his wishes, but they also bought a plot and a stone in a cemetery. Then we had a funeral service there, and we buried some of his favorite things instead of a body.”
“Oh, I see. What a lovely idea.”
“Yeah, it’s nice to have a place to visit,” I said softly, twisting my fingers together. “He wanted his ashes spread on his favorite beach, but I haven’t had a chance to get there yet, because it’s all the way over in Bali.”