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“So you’re in?”
Ace, Michaela, Bexley, Lylah... they could taunt me and tease me, hurt me and harass me, but they would never break me.
“Oh, I’m in.” A lick of anticipation simmers beneath my skin. “I’m so in.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ace
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask, stepping from the pool house to find none other than fucking Michaela walking towards me.
Her eyes widen at the state of me, but she doesn’t comment. “I’m just helping set up the party.” She smiles sweetly at me, and it makes my skin crawl.
I look her up and down. It’s weird seeing her out of her cheer uniform, but I can’t say losing it makes her any more appea
ling.
“Why?” I spit. She’s the last person Remi would ask to help with the party—the one she probably doesn’t want in the first place.
After last night, I can’t imagine she wants to be anywhere near the place. Or me.
“Sarah asked me to help.” She bats her eyelashes at me.
“And you’re coming down here why?”
“We’ve run out of tape. James thought there might be some—” She glances over my shoulder and I stiffen.
“There isn’t.”
“I’ll just have a quick look.”
“No,” I spit. “No, you won’t. Go to the fucking store if you have to, but you’re not going in there.”
“Oh don’t be so ridiculous. He told me exactly where he thinks it is. I’ll be in and out. You won’t even know.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “I said no.”
“What’s wrong? Got some poor naive victim chained to your bed or something?”
Rearing back, I snap, “What the fuck is wrong with you? I don’t want you near my shit. Now fuck off.” Taking her shoulder in my hands, I physically turn her and push her back toward the main house.
I follow her all the way, and once we’re inside she turns left to the living room while I go for the kitchen.
I can’t remember when I last ate something, and I’m fucking starving.
“Ace, how are… oh my goodness,” Ellen gasps, her hands coming up to cover her gaping mouth.
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“F-fine?” she stutters. “You are not fine. Come and sit down here and let me look at you. You might need stitches.”
“I said I’m fine.” She pales instantly. “Sorry,” I mutter. “It was a rough night.”
“So I see. What do you need?” she asks, changing tact.
“Food. Whatever you’ve got.”
She immediately turns toward the refrigerator and pulls a load of ingredients out.
