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“Are you fucking serious?” Parker lashes out as we approach him at their lockers. I walk past him as my locker is still a few down, but his outrage carried across the distance.
“So what? All’s forgiven? Are you dating again?” He spits at Ryan, who is opening his lock with a half grin on his face.
“Yeah, it is. She has NOTHING to apologize for. And maybe one day.” He leans back, away from his locker, catches my eye, and gives me a wink.
In your dreams, casanova.
Parker slams his locker closed and brushes right past me, not even giving me a second glance.
First period was a shit show. Parker and I are in it together, and the teacher just happened to put us right next to each other. I felt like Bella; he was Edward, and he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
Now, here we are again in Mr. Tate’s English class, going over a project related to reading The Great Gatsby, and he is breaking us off into pairs when he pulls my name from a hat.
“Abigail, you will be paired with…” He reaches down into a second hat, “Parker Stevens.”
Parker shoots up from his chair in protest. “Mr. Tate, no. I will not work with her. I request another partner.”
“Sorry, Mr. Stevens, but the fates have chosen. Abigail is your partner, and you will be doing this assignment.”
“NO!” Parker shouts as he slams a fist on his desk.
“Mr. Stevens, you can either work with Abigail, or I can give you both an F on this assignment right now, which will bench you for this week's game. Is that what you want?”
Parker sits down with a thump in his seat and shakes his head no.
“Ah, alright then. Abigail, your topic is 1920s courtship,” Mr. Tate says before moving on to the next pairing.
eleven
unknown
WHOTHEHELLARETHESE TWO GUYS?
I watched from a distance as two young men entered her house, and then the three of them left in the same truck as yesterday. If they think they can seduce my little canary, they are wrong. DEAD WRONG. I am the ONLY man her body craves the touch of.
I promise that one day, you will be in my arms again. If any of them dare touch you, I will carve out their hearts and hand them to you in a bouquet of roses, my little canary.
twelve
parker
Abigailwillbehereany moment. I’m rushing through my empty house, trying to make sure nothing embarrassing is out. Not that my parents have any baby pictures of me or anything on display. That would mean they would have to be here longer than a few hours between their travels.
No, I’m hiding all of the half-naked statues they collect on their travels and send home for display. My parents are art collectors and swingers. So, our home is an artistic representation of the Kamasutra. I lean down to smell my shirt to make sure I didn’t break a sweat in all the chaos when the bells ring on the intercom. I click a button on the screen to see Abigail outside my gates. I press another button, and the gates open.
Here we go.
“Look, Parker, if you are just going to be a royal pain in the ass, I will gladly do this assignment on my own and send you the notes so you can act like you contributed.” She barks at me the moment I open the front door.
She barges right past me. “Well, why don't you just make yourself at home then,” I mumble. Turning, I follow her down the long hall to the dining room.
Fuck, I forgot to put a sculpture away.Abigail stops dead in her tracks as she stares at the grotesque thing right as you enter the dining area.
“Really?” She says judgingly.
“It’s my mom's. An artist made it personally for her, and my dad wanted to display it where it would be noticed,” I say, moving past her, acting as if it’s no big deal. Turning around in a snarky whisper, “It’s where I came out of.”
“It’s a vagina? Your mom's vagina?” She choked out, and I just ignored her.
