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Her body language and expression suggested that was all there was to it, but her tone told me that she was thinking many choice words about the idea of me driving her to a party. I wasn’t even that bothered about actually driving her anymore. I just wanted to test those buttons.
“Tonight, yes.” I nodded. “Then you’ll meet a lovely fella who’ll offer to drive you to the rest and Carter will be all but forgotten. See, you take me up on my offer and you’re just preserving yourself for Carter. You could say I’m doing him a favour.”
“I could say a lot of things,” she muttered.
Fuck, yes. I was so close. I could feel it.
I scoffed. “Yeah, but you won’t. Because you’re darling little Piper Barlow, never with a bad word to say to anyone.”
Oh, the contempt she glared at me gave me fucking life. I could eat, drink and fuck that every day of my life. She was just out of reach, the real Piper. The one who thought the thoughts. I wanted them. I wanted her. I wasn’t quite so obsessed that I’d actually touch her. But riling her up was going to suit me fine.
She still said nothing. She just shook her head, pulled on her headphones and ignored me the rest of the way home.
But I knew. I knew there was another Piper in there. One buried deep under the fucking depressing mask she wore to appease the whole sycophantic world.
I felt I’d pushed as far as I dared that day. We’d see each other soon enough. It was the only reason I was going to the party; to see her. I told myself I wasn’t going to touch her and I meant it, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to take any chance I could to look.
I knew what it was like to dance with addiction. Just because I didn’t do anything about it, didn’t mean I didn’t know how to flirt with it just enough to get a fix without it ruining someone’s life.
