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“I told you I’d hurt anyone who says a word about us. And since I don’t beat up women, I found another way. She’s hurting, and she knows exactly why.”
It’s wrong to feel a small amount of satisfaction in what he’s done, and I should feel bad. But I don’t. Not if Hillary really was the person who managed to alert my mom.
How she even knew to do that, I don’t know. Then again, it’s not a secret that Mason and my families have this weird agreement.
“But how can that be true, about you intending to hurt them? You were planning to take them back to Gabriel’s tonight-“
“No I wasn’t. I was planning on them being bitches to you the first time they saw you, which was when I planned to tear them down and show them how little they mattered. Why do you think I was standing there? I watched you leave the room and saw them take off after you. I knew it would happen. Plus, now that Damon and I showed up with them, nobody is talking about you and me anymore. That may have also been part of my plan, and it worked.”
I barely hear his last words because I’m still stuck on something else he said. “You were watching me?”
“All night,” he admits. “I can’t stop watching you.”
“That’s a bit creepy.”
He laughs, the sound dark and haunting.
“Damon told you that you’re off limits. I’ve already claimed you.”
Which reminds me...
What Ezra and Damon did to Hillary and Kelly still doesn’t excuse them for playing a game against me.
“I don’t like being played either,” I admit, my voice just as soft as his.
He turns his head to hear me better, and our mouths are so close, our eyes tangled in a moment that disturbs the butterflies in my stomach, causing them to swarm and flutter, a moving cloud of color that would be gorgeous against a clear blue sky.
When he doesn’t answer, I make my demand.
“If you want to continue this, you need to tell me the secret of telling you and Damon apart. I won’t be played anymore. Not like this.”
He blinks at that, humor dancing behind his eyes.
For a moment, I don’t think he’ll answer, but then he points to the left side of his neck.
“Do you see that?”
I study the skin he points to, but it’s clear of any mark or blemish. It’s just smooth, olive-toned skin, more golden from time spent in the sun.
“There’s nothing there.”
His grin curls more. “When you look at Damon next, you’ll know what I’m pointing at.”
A freckle, I guess.
Just like Mason said.
It must be so subtle that not many people have picked up on it.
“Feel better now?”
No. I’m still mad, but I’m getting better. I nod my head because it’s easier than standing here continuing this argument.
His hand brushes mine.
“Then come dance with me.”
I want to, but there are teachers and other school administrators. They’ll report back to my parents if I dance with anybody besides Mason. Especially if it’s the twins.
