tell anyone and it’s over for you
What the fuck?
I reread the messages. Once. Twice.Five times.It takes me five rereads to register the cryptic messages slowly popping up on Cleo’s phone.Who is this?Is someone playing some sick joke right now? My stomach drops as more roll in.
Unknown
remember
you made a deal you can’t break.
A deal?At the sound of Cleo’s footsteps, I quickly slide the messages over, deleting them from her lock screen, hastily throwing her phone into her purse. I pull out our camcorder to make myself seem busy as she approaches me, smiling wildly. As I stare at the smiling girl before me, I wonder how real her smiles have been since she’s been here.
Has she been getting messages like this for a while now? Are they prank texts? Does Jace know?
The questions throw me for a loop, and I don’t notice Cleo standing before me, pointing her camera at my face until she giggles softly, capturing my attention.
“Huh?”
“I asked if you were ready… I’m getting hungry and the only thing I had today was a blueberry-spinach smoothie.” She scrunches her nose, adorably. She probably doesn’t even notice the amount of cute facial expressions she makes a day.
“Blueberry-spinach?” I ask, looking down at her as she groans, frowning.
“Georgia's on a new smoothie cleanse. Yesterday was strawberry-mango. Today’s blueberry-spinach. Tomorrow's something with carrots.” She shrugs as if this is a regular occurrence in their apartment as we make our way to the nearest register. Cleo places down every article of clothing she’d tried on. Well, all except one.
I furrow my eyebrows, frowning as she looks up at me.
“What?”
“The dress.”I tilt my head, frowning at her.
“What dress?” She asks, chuckling as if she doesn’t know exactly whatdressI’m talking about.
I groan aloud, looking from her to the cashier then back to her. If that’s how she wants to play it, then fine.
I'm going to remember this.
We make our way to the food court, the both of us recording each other separately for the project. It’s comfortable between us, no awkward silences and zero loss of conversation.
I know when I first met Cleo, I’d thought she’d been like me. Extroverted, yet introverted. Turns out, I was harboring a secret extrovert thisentiretime. If anyone thought I talked a lot then they certainly haven’t met Cleo Jones.
I pity those of you who have yet to meet her, but if you have met Cleo and didn't introduce me to her… Fuck you. You're a bitch and I hope you step on a LEGO.
I won't apologize for that statement, either.
“Oh!Wehaveto get that!” She squeals from beside me, latching onto my arm. I freeze, looking down at her but she’s not paying me any mind as she jumps up and down pointing at the CinnaU sign.
“I thought you were a donut girl.” I quip.
Cleo pauses in her momentary celebration and glares at me. “Never judge a woman and her snacks, Creeper”
“So, we’re back to ‘Creeper’? C’mon Princess, I thought we were making progress,” I tease and there’s no real reaction from her but I can see the smile in her eyes as she turns on her heel and starts towards CinnaU.
Cleo orders a cinnamon roll with extra icing, caramel drizzle, and pecans, while I get the simplest item on the menu in its simplest form. A regular cinnamon roll. Shocking, I know.
She records me as I order and I smile as I pay for our "meal", as she likes to call two large cinnamon rolls, and stalk towards an empty clean table.
“First question for Blake Wilder,” she starts, holding the camcorder up to her eye just as I plop a piece of the dessert into my mouth.
