Page 15 of Frenemies


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Unfortunately for me, Mason was in my way.

Fortunately for me, my aim was spot on, and I hit him on the back of the head, covering him—and the car—with flour.

It could have been worse.

I clapped my hands over my mouth and dipped down, crouching beneath the window. Ridiculous. He already knew it would be me.

That was what I got for using my signature move.

Also, that thump on the head probably hurt a little.

“Imogen!” His voice carried up to the open window. “You’re the worst hider ever!”

All right. I was.

I peeked up over the window ledge and peered down at him.

He was not happy.

“Hiya,” I said, wiggling my fingers. “In my defense, I warned you.”

He folded his arms across his chest and glared up at me. “This is it, is it? We’re regressing back to our college years?”

“You started this with the spider.”

“I told you; that wasn’t me.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“You’re lucky you’re up there, or I’d toss you on the mess you’ve made of my car.”

“If you try to so much as touch me, I’ll scream and kick you in the balls.”

“You know as well as I do that threat loses its effectiveness after one too many times.”

I paused. “I only did it three times!”

“You didn’t get me once,” he said smugly. “You needed what you were aiming for.”

“Yeah, well, that was then, and this is now. The only long, hard thing I need is on my nightstand.”

Mason’s eyebrows shot up.

I grabbed it and hung it out the window. “Yeah, my baseball bat.”

“That’s not what I was expecting.”

“Do you really think I’m going to flash my vibrator to the neighborhood?”

“You may as well, considering you just announced to everyone that you own one.”

“Most women do. They don’t answer back, see.”

“Let me guess: unlike men, who do?”

“Are you answering back right now?”

“It’s a vital part of conversation, Imogen. It usually requires at least two people to speak.”

“I don’t think I like your attitude, Mason.”

“That’s fine. Yours is shit, too. We match.”

I pouted. “I’m not going to sit here and deal with this.”

“Deal with what? You’re lucky I haven’t gone inside and filled Maya’s water pistol with watered down paint and shot it all over your car.”

“If you touch my car, I’ll rip your lungs out through your throat.”

He smirked. “Oh, to have you that close again.”

Holy shit. This was impossible.

“You’re an insufferable git, Mason Black.”

“Your words cut me deeply,” he drawled, sarcasm dripping from every single syllable. “Look, I’m willing to let this go.” He motioned at his messy car and his messy self. “But if you insist on a prank war, just know that I’m not backing down. This will be college on steroids.”

“Why would I back down? You started this!”

“Fine. It’s your death warrant you’re signing.”

“We’ll see about that. You’re not the only one who has a wealth of pranks tucked up their sleeve.”

Mason pushed hair from his face with a shrug. “All right. You asked for it.”

“Fine.” I stood up and grabbed the window handle to close it. “Game on.”

“Game on.”

Even from where I was standing, I could see the glint in his eye. It was the same one he got whenever we were messing around in college, and my stomach did an involuntary flip at the memory.

That wasn’t going to work at all for me.

“Imogen!”

I frowned and pushed the window back open. “What?”

I saw the bright blue ball a second too late. It hit the window frame, exploding all over the inside of my open window.

And me.

The water was ice cold, and I gasped as it trickled down my neck. “Oh, my God!”

“Rookie mistake!” he yelled back up, laughing.

I grabbed another water balloon and threw it, but he saw it coming and moved out of the way so it burst on the sidewalk. “It is so on!”

“I can’t wait!”

I slammed the window shut, a strangled noise of frustration escaping me as I did so. He laughed so loudly I could hear it even through the closed window, so I yanked the curtains shut and headed for the bathroom.

My eyes stung thanks to the mascara I was wearing, so I removed that with wipes before I used a towel to dry my face and my bangs.

“Immy? What’s going on?”

“Water balloons,” I yelled back to Grandma.

“Ooh, are we having a neighborhood water fight? Those are fun.”

“No!” I rushed out of the bathroom, still clutching onto the towel. “Mason got revenge, that’s all.”

“Revenge for what? Did you put an awkward college photo of him online?”

“No.” I rolled my eyes and wiped away the last of the water. “I threw a water balloon, and it didn’t burst. He grabbed it and threw it at the window where I was.”

She looked me up and down. “Is that why you look like a drowned rat?”

“Your supportive personality is my favorite thing about you,” I said dryly. “It’s fine. It was a rookie mistake. I won’t make it again.”

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