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And I might be okay with him losing his designer camping gear and thin, ribbed condoms.
I feel a smile creep up my cheeks. “You didn’t think this through, lover!” I shout out into the open air, knowing Van can hear me, then slip on my shoe like a psycho princess and kick out the fire. “You think I’m scared? You think I care if you destroy my life?” Van Gogh wants to threaten me and call me the betrayer? Please.
“Go ahead, love. Destroy me. But remember, I’m not like them. I have nothing left to destroy.”
“Are you fucking crazy?” Blake whips his head around, taking in his friends’ curious yet fearful faces. “Do you really want to have this conversation now?”
Blake. Blake. Blake. You narcissist. Not only am I not talking to you, but I don’t care enough about you to set a fire around your tent for cheating.
“Fine. Okay. It was wrong of me to betray you, but—” He throws his hands in the air “Look, I’m sorry. I promise to make it up to you, but please help us.”
What a pompous prick.
“Look. I know you’re hurt, but no one needs to die here.”
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Was he not threatening to destroy me mere hours ago? Did he not see my crazy shine then? Well, to his credit, this is not my crazy. It’s Van Gogh’s. He’s always been more of a show-off. He likes to make an entrance and leave you with a lasting impression of real fear.
I scoff. “No one is dying, Blake.”
I take a step toward the flames circling Ashley’s tent, and he backs up. “Stay back! I’ve already called the police. Help is on the way.”
Perfect. “So, you don’t want me to help you? You want me to let the fire spread until the tent goes up in flames?”
Blake swallows and looks at Ashley for a decision.
“I mean, your friends are welcome to help, too. It’s not just me who has shoes on to stomp out this little campfire.”
Let this teach Blake a lesson. His friends are just as shallow as he is. They give zero shits if he dies. Fine. Maybe they care about his demise, but not enough to risk scorching their perfect hair and expensive spray tans.
Like Blake just realized other people have the potential to help, he yells, “Parker! Get over here and help us!”
Parker doesn’t move.
“I’d try Trent,” I suggest. “He hasn’t been dating Ashley since freshman year. He’s likely feeling a bit more hospitable than Parker.”
“Shut up!” Blake points at me, a vein pulsing in his forehead.
Uh-oh. Someone needs a Botox touch-up.
“This is all your fault!”
Sheesh. I’m so over this.
“You know what, Blake?” I clear the remaining space between us, inwardly smiling as Blake steps behind Ashley, using her as a shield. “You are a self-righteous bastard.”
I grab the small cooler outside their tent and pop open the lid. “And I’d love to see you burn, but I’m a better person than that.”
Revealing the water left from the melted ice, I douse the flames at his feet and walk through the woods until I get to the road and hitch a ride in the back seat of a cop car.
“Okay, let’s go over this again.”
I let out a dramatic sigh and slump down in the cold metal chair. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I don’t care that my boyfriend was cheating?”
Detective Lee doesn’t need to know that Blake isn’t my actual boyfriend since Blake had some sense and didn’t admit he was only using me to hack his enemies’ bank accounts. I’m impressed he realized confessing would implicate him, as well. Sure, I could come clean and loop him in, but in doing so, I’d only provide Detective Lee with more charges to book me on.
I have to give it to Blake. It was a good move to blame me for the fire.
