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"You're telling me you really have no absolutely no idea?" He's goading me, a smirk twisting his face into something ugly and cruel.
"No. I don't."
He must hear the finality in my voice because he leans back again, lips settling into a line. "What started the fire then? If you're not going to give me the juicy details of your family drama, then you’ve got to give me something."
I huff, my eyes looking anywhere but at him as that knot in my stomach increases. "I don't have to give you anything, actually."
He flicks the side of my head, forcing my gaze. "Come on, Hadley, spill your dirty secrets for me." He leans over the table, his chest pressed into the edge so he can whisper into my face. "Who started the fire, weirdo?"
I jerk out of the booth the second the words pass his lips, and he cackles at my reaction, standing as I angrily grab my backpack and toss cash onto the table. Turning without looking at him, I stomp past all the other booths toward the exit. My waitress says something to my back, but I don't hear it, pushing outside into the cold. I know Rhys is following me, can feel him right on my heels, but I don't look. At least not until he grabs my wrist at the back of the parking lot and forces me to.
"Come on, you know I'm joking."
I stare at the zipper on his jacket, refusing to look into his face. I'm angry without a doubt but also confused by my reaction. I don't know why I don't want to answer his questions, but for some reason, I can't. I don't think I could get the words past my lips even if I wanted to. The thought alone makes me nauseous. "Well, it wasn't funny. Not to me."
His fingers pinch into my skin as he lifts my jaw, bringing my eyes off his chest and to his face. "I didn't peg you for a crybaby." I slap his hand away, trying to get away from him, but he doesn't let me. My hoodie is fisted at my chest, and I'm tugged up onto my toes, his angry dark eyes meeting mine. "Get your shit together, Hadley. If you lose it, we both do."
He lets go of me, letting me stumble forward as he steps out of my space and ou
t of reach. He turns away from me without another word, disappearing from view as I stand there in the dark parking lot, wondering what the fuck just happened.
"Order Twenty-Seven!" A waitress yells from the takeout counter, order receipt in hand as she scans the room.
Stepping up to the counter, I set my number card by the register. "That's me."
She smiles, peaking into the bag. "Two chicken alfredo kits with extra sauce and a garlic loaf?"
With a nod, I reach for the bag. "Sounds right."
"Great." Making sure I've got it, she lets go of the bag and steps back as I start to walk away. "Have a good night!"
I raise my fingers in thanks, weaving through the other people waiting for their food. The cold hits my face as my feet meet the sidewalk, and I shiver against it. Standing inside made me forget how cold it was out here. We haven't had any snow yet, but I'm sure it's coming. You can almost feel it in the air. I loathe it. Every day we don't have the wretched white fluff is a day I'm grateful for. Thankfully, I don't have to walk far because I'm renting a loft not far from the restaurant.
Opening up the front door, I hurry inside, toeing my sneakers off before walking into the kitchen to set my takeout bag on the counter. My butterfly should be here shortly, and I'm supposed to be making her dinner, which is why I ordered takeout. Taking the chicken alfredo kits out of my takeout bag, I pull out two bowls and start dumping it in. All the noodles go into one, and the chicken sauce goes in the other along with the extra containers of sauce. Setting the oven to one hundred and fifty degrees, I pull the garlic bread out and unwrap it from the aluminum wrapping before sticking it in to keep it warm. Scooping up the containers and foil, I put it back inside the white take out bag, tie it shut, and shove it to the bottom of the trash can under the sink. Looking at the food on the counter, I mentally pat myself on the back. It may not be the most impressive display, but it's bound to impress my butterfly. I even ordered from the best Italian place in the city.
There's a light knock on the door, and I hurry over to it, taking a second to look through the peephole, I verify it's my Aglais io. She lifts her hand with a small, somewhat awkward finger wave, "Hey."
Opening the door further, I smile at her, stepping back to let her in. "Hey." I shut the door after her, hand reaching for the coat she's removed while watching her bend over to slip out of her tall boots. "You hungry? Food is ready, but we can wait if you're not."
"I'm actually starving; I missed lunch by accident." Standing straight, she uses two fingers to push her glasses back up her nose. The amber frame highlights the bright blue of her eyes, and I take a moment to admire her as she removes her scarf. I take her scarf from her before hanging both it and her coat on the hook. "What're we having? It smells good."
She's right. It does smell good, but that's mostly the garlic bread heating in the oven. "Chicken alfredo and garlic bread."
She smiles, "Sounds good." There's a dining table set up just off the kitchen, visible from the living room, and I walk her there.
Walking back to the living room, I pick up the tv remote and turn it on for noise, not bothering to check the channel. "Do you want me to dish you up?"
She rests her chin on her hand, eyes on the tv when she answers. "Sure."
Tossing the remote onto the couch, I walk to the kitchen. Grabbing two plates from the cupboard, I put noodles on them, then take the bread out and slice it, adding a piece to each plate. Peeking around the arched doorway into the dining room, I make sure my butterfly is still watching tv before grabbing out a bottle of strychnine pills from my pocket. Tonight I'm trying something I've never done before to try and reclaim some of that excitement I seem to be craving lately.
It's slightly nerve-wracking that I don't know for certain if this will work or not, but it adds to my thrill. Of course, I don't want things to go wrong, but it's exciting to think it might, and I'll have to use plan b to take care of things. Unscrewing the cap on the bottle, I dump half the bottle onto the counter. Using the flat side of my knife, I crush them up until they're the texture of dust, then swipe it onto the top of my Aglais io's plate of noodles. Eyeing the powder, I'm not sure how much she actually needs for it to work. On a whim, I dump the other half out and crush it also and add it with the rest.
Scooping out the chicken alfredo sauce, I pour a generous serving on hers to hide the powder, mixing it in with her noodles to make sure everything gets coated. Putting the cap back on the empty bottle, I stick it back in my pocket. Using a clean spoon, just to be safe, I pour the sauce over my noodles. Grabbing two forks, I set them on our plates before picking them up, careful to keep my butterfly's in my left hand. How disappointing it would be to kill myself while trying to catch a thrill.
I set the plate in front of her, nodding at her "Thank you." while I put my own plate on the opposite end of the table. Realizing I forgot to get us drinks, I start to stand, but she stops me. "Have you heard about this?" She points to the tv, and I look over at it; it's the news channel, and they're talking about the Rivercrest Landing serial killer. My heart flutters. It's always so fun to see myself on tv. I'm practically a celebrity around here based on how often my name gets brought up. "And people are calling the little butterflies he leaves butterfly kisses." She shudders like the thought creeps her out, and I frown. "That's so weird."
And that's so rude. I stop myself from saying anything, watching as she twirls some pasta around her fork. She takes a bite, and I hold my breath with anticipation.
