I Kissed Alice - Anna Birch Page 0,34

up and they’re going to give it to her. You know that.”

Rhodes smiles at this. It doesn’t reach her eyes, but there’s color in her cheeks. She doesn’t look like a ghost haunting the place for once.

“Breathy nudes? Are you serious?” I thrust my hands onto my hips. “Can you do anything else?”

“And what are you turning in?” Rhodes’s smile vanishes. “I’d poke a little fun at you, too, except the only consistent thing about you is your inconsistency. What is it this week, pottery? Fiberwork? You might actually have a chance if you worked on something for longer than five minutes.”

“You know that’s not true—” I’m angry enough that my vision is crackling at the edges, and I shove shaking hands into the pockets of my apron. Rhodes doesn’t miss this, and she playacts perfect concern.

“You’re nervous.” She steps a little closer and touches my hair through my hairnet. I swat her hand away. “This has to be your first show, right? The first time is really sweet, if you can get past yourself.”

I don’t know what to make of this.

It’s so unlike her.

She knows she has me in a corner, and she’s drunk on it.

I step back to put more space between us. “You haven’t finished a project in months, Rhodes Ingram. Months. You know why I’m not nervous: because you don’t threaten me anymore.”

“Yeah, this is exactly what not being threatened looks like.” Rhodes runs a finger along my cheekbone, then the edge of my jaw, before booping my nose. Her hands aren’t as soft as I thought they’d be—even the tips of her fingers bear the mark of a skilled artist.

I feel it in my thighs.

I don’t know what to think, where to put my limbs, where to put my body.

“I hate you, Rhodes Ingram.”

It’s the best I can do, and it falls out of me limp. It’s something I’ve thought forever, held close to my chest and nurtured like first love, but it loses its power the minute I speak it.

“Iliana—” Sarah materializes out of nowhere.

I didn’t hear the kitchen doors slap back into their casing behind us, just like I didn’t hear the other patrons standing around the counter to watch our conversation unfold as if it’s free entertainment. Sarah and Rhodes make awkward half smiles at each other but say nothing otherwise.

“The customers are complaining. Gonna call Sylvia—come on.” She’s tugging me back toward the kitchen, and I let her pull me away. “Switch with me. You run inventory, and I’ll take the next couple of tables…”

Griffin and Rhodes haven’t said anything to each other or anyone else. They only stand together, tall and dark-haired, flipping between more of the same loaded eye contact and watching us with expressions I don’t understand.

“You know what?” I dig my heels into the linoleum and put out an arm for Sarah. Rhodes is waiting, watching, passive. I want to slap a reaction out of her.

“Capstone is the end of the road,” I say. “Only the best is going to win, and it’s going to be me—I swear to God, Rhodes, you’re going to regret the day you met me.”

“You’re wrong,” she says, moving for the door. She walks past Griffin, and he follows. “I’m not going to regret the day I met you. I’m going to win the Capstone, and I’m going to Alabama College of Art and Design.” She pulls the door open, and her grin is enough to light the entire city. “And I’ll forget you ever existed.”

And with that, she and Griffin are out the door and into the chilly evening.

It isn’t until I’m in the privacy of the kitchen, with Sarah working the diner floor, that I allow myself to splinter into a thousand pieces.

CHAPTER 10

RHODES

Username: I-Kissed-Alice

Last online: 6h ago

Great-Grandma Ingram loved to tell the story of how Griffin’s first step wasn’t a step at all—at just over a year old, he let go of my mother’s hand and twirled. I don’t know which cousin’s wedding it was, or where I was at the time (probably hiding under a table, scribbling into a composition notebook), but little Griff shocked everyone by standing on his own and swaying to the music before he could even walk.

It was Great-Grandma who insisted Griff and I attend the Conservatory. She was the one to leave behind the money that would pay for it. She knew my parents well enough to know that holding them hostage with access to a trust fund would be enough to bend

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