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“Well, yeah, unless you planned on sleeping in the car?”
Kent rose from the table, going to Jason’s side. “That’s a great idea, Son. I’m sure we’d both feel better knowing you were staying somewhere Neil vouched for.” His eyes flicked to my mom’s and she nodded around a smile.
“Just the one night, though.”
One night in New York… with my step-brother and his friends.
Kill me now.
“And no partying,” she added, her expression tight. Jason nodded, agreeing to her terms, but I saw the glint in his eyes.
“We should probably get going if we want to catch happy hour at The Royal,” Kent said, checking his watch.
“The two of you will be okay?” Mom glanced between us dubiously. “There’s money on the counter to order in and I left some snacks out.”
“I think we’ve got it, Denise.” Jason’s lip twitched earning him a stiff glare from his father. He ushered Mom from the kitchen, leaving the two of us alone.
“Why?” I wasted no time asking.
“Why what?” Jason went to the refrigerator and got a beer for himself.
“Why did you agree to come to New York?”
“Do I need a reason?” He unscrewed the bottle, leaned back on the counter, and took a long pull on it.
“The Met is—”
“You think I actually plan on going to some stupid art exhibition?”
“But Mom said—”
“Let your mom and my dad think whatever they need to think to breathe easier. We can ride together and when we get there, we can do our own thing.”
Of course, that was his plan.
Asshole.
“And here I thought you might actually have a decent bone in your body.”
He stepped forward, his lip curved in an arrogant smirk. “Just because I’ve had to tolerate you over this shit with Thatcher doesn’t mean we’re friends. That’s never going to happen, Hailee.”
“Fuck you, Jason,” I ground out, feeling my jaw tense.
His eyes sparked with something, but I didn’t stick around to find out what because I was over his shit.
So over it.
When Sunday morning rolled around, my mood wasn’t much better. Thanks to Mom and Kent, I was stuck with tickets to an exhibition I desperately wanted to see. But now they came hand-in-hand with Jason. God, he’d looked so smug last night when he revealed his grand plan. He had basically hijacked my birthday so he and his friends could go live it up in New York for the night because while Mom had gotten four tickets, I was under no illusion there wouldn’t be five of us making the journey.
I was toweling off my hair, when a notification pinged on my cell phone. I ignored it since it was probably Flick. But when it pinged again… and again, I finally reached over the desk and grabbed it. Unlocking the screen, I frowned when I saw the number of texts I had from my best friend. Opening the most recent, I felt the blood drain from my face.
* * *
Flick: Call me. Now!
* * *
My stomach sank, but before I could reply, Flick’s name flashed up on the screen, her ringtone cutting through the silence. “What the hell?” I murmured as I hit receive.
