Erin let out a light laugh. “Okay, that’s a tad dramatic. They won’t go that far.”
“You sure?” I raised a brow and picked up the knife so I could slice a piece of cake for us to share. “I wouldn’t put anything past those sick pricks at this point.”
“Honestly, it’s mostly Cerina. Everyone else just follows her lead like sheep,” Erin said. “And remember, she’s probably the one who did this cookie shit. Or at least the ringleader behind the whole thing. So she’s the main one we should focus our anger on.”
“True.” I sucked down a deep breath and gritted my teeth as a sudden rush of heat and adrenaline went through me. “I hate her. I hate her so fucking much.”
“Me too.”
I waved the cake knife in the air in front of me. “Seriously, if she were here right now, I’d take this knife and jam it right in her stupid fucking face,” I said, cheeks burning with fury. “That’s how much I hate her.”
Someone cleared their throat nearby. Erin and I whirled around to see Jax standing in the kitchen entrance, jaw set and eyes slightly narrowed.
I sat up straight and put the knife down. “What are you doing here?” I asked, glowering at Jax.
“I have a free period.”
I narrowed my eyes. “So what, you thought you’d come home and laugh at me?”
“No, I came to make sure you…” He trailed off and shook his head. “Never mind.”
He sauntered over to the fridge and pulled out a small glass bottle with an orange label. Then he stepped over to the island counter and set it down next to me. “Drink this.”
“Why? What did you put in it?” I asked, raising a cynical brow. “My grandma’s grave dirt? Or straight up cyanide?”
“It’s just kombucha,” he said in a low voice.
I wrinkled my nose. “I hate that stuff.”
“I know. You think it tastes horrible, so that’s all you’ll be able to focus on. It’ll distract you from the taste of that cookie.” He gestured at all the food on the counter. “That’s what you’re trying to do, right?”
“Uh... yes.”
He slid the bottle closer. “So try it.”
I glanced at Erin. She twisted her lips and shrugged. “It might work,” she said. “I mean, all the tasty stuff hasn’t worked for you yet.”
“I don’t know,” I muttered. “Maybe.”
Jax took a step back and lifted his palms. “Drink it or don’t. Not my problem,” he said. “And for the record, I had nothing to do with that cookie shit. Cerina must’ve sneaked into your room on the weekend and stolen the urn when a bunch of us were hanging out here.”
Before I could reply, he strode out of the kitchen.
I picked up the kombucha and removed the lid, staring at the fingerprints Jax had left in the condensation on the side of the bottle. “Is it just me, or was he being weirdly nice just then?” I said. “Considering what he’s usually like, I mean.”
“It’s definitely not just you,” Erin replied. “That was the nicest I’ve ever seen him act around you.”
I narrowed my eyes and took a sip of the kombucha. Then I grimaced and came close to spitting it out. “Urgh,” I said, forcing myself to swallow. “I really hate this stuff.”
“Is it working, though?” Erin asked.
“Yeah.” I wiped my mouth and nodded slowly. The taste and chalky texture of the cookie—or the awful memory of it, anyway—had totally vanished from my mouth. Jax was right. Distracting my tastebuds with something I hated had worked perfectly.
It still didn’t erase the memory of what happened to me today, though. I’d never forget that.
Erin stared at the kombucha bottle. “Do you believe him?”
I frowned. “You mean Jax?”