“Don’t ever tellherthat you don’t think she can make it worse,” I mutter. “She’d take that as a personal challenge.”
Not that she hasn’t already vowed vengeance on us in ways that’ll make us hurt.
I just wish I knew what that meant.
4
ASCH
It’s been three hours since we returned from the memorial service, and I swear I can still feel Pandora’s lips on mine.
Kissing her had been stupid, but I’d let her get to me. That’s nothing new; she’s always had a way of getting in my head and lingering there. I need to be more careful, though, more vigilant, especially as her supposed revenge looms on the horizon.
She’s so wild, so unpredictable, that I don’t know which direction to look in to even see where she’ll be coming from. All I know is that she’s a threat — to me, and more importantly, to Blaze.
I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him. He doesn’t take my role as bodyguard seriously, but I do. Everything I do is to protect him, whether he wants to accept that help or not.
And if I don’t…
George Bouchard does not need to think that I’m expendable.
“How did she find out about the wake?” I ask Blaze, leaning against the kitchen counter. “She doesn’t know any of Franklin’s friends.”
Blaze shrugs and flips his eggs. “Beats me. Maybe she asked Sandra. Or River told her.”
“Why would she have bothered to show up? Especially after it was over?” My phone buzzes with a text, and I pull it out of my pocket so I can check the message.
My mom has been texting me even more than usual ever since the fire. If we’d had the money, I’m sure she’d have shown up in person to be sure I’m actually all right. If she knew what I’d been a part of after the fire…
I stop those thoughts in their tracks, send her a quick text back, then return my attention to Blaze.
“How am I supposed to know?” Blaze plates two of the eggs and hands them to me. “Here. You should eat. You get kind of bitchy when you’re hungry.”
“At least it’s just when I’m hungry. What’s your excuse?” I retort, grabbing two forks from the drawer by the sink and handing him one.
Blaze’s eyes narrow at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s called a joke,” I tell him.
“You’re not funny,” he retorts.
I can’t hide my irritation when I reply, “Neither is Pandora, but you laugh at her stupid jokes.”
Blaze slams his plate down on the table. “Sorry I find her amusing. She does this thing where she smiles when she tells a joke, and she isn’t dour and glum all the time. You might want to try it.”
The instant defense of Pandora has my hackles up — and the way he dismisses me so easily doesn’t help. This isn’t like Blaze. He only treats everyone else like shit.
Not me.
“I might be dour and glum, but at least I’m not an asshole,” I snap at him.
That makes Blaze burst out laughing.
I glare at him.
“Oh, wait, that part wasn’t a joke?” Blaze asks. “Yeah, go ask Pandora if she thinks you’re an asshole. Or maybe the sororities you helped terrorize. I think Tate and Brock might have some opinions about that too.”
That shuts me up, and it’s my turn to set my plate down on the counter entirely too hard. “Look,” I say, my voice tight despite how calm I’m trying to be, “we don’t need to fight. The last thing we need is to fall apart before Pandora even tries to come at us.”
