don’t want to encourage Jules in her Nate Macauley obsession. Even if Bronwyn weren’t still in the picture, I’m pretty sure he and Jules would be a terrible pairing. Jules likes to be joined at the hip with whoever she dates, and I don’t think that’s Nate’s style at all. “They’re both gorgeous,” I say. Jules pouts, so that’s obviously the wrong answer. “But if I had to choose, the black.” It’s a little less revealing, anyway.
“All right, the black it is,” she says breezily. “I’m going to watch some makeup videos and try to nail a smoky eye. See you tonight!” She waves and disconnects.
I toss my phone onto my rumpled comforter—it’s balled up in the middle of my bed because I’m such a restless sleeper, especially lately—and grab an elastic from my end table. I pull my hair into a ponytail as I stand and cross to the bedroom door. When I yank it open, Owen almost tumbles inside.
“Owen!” I pull my ponytail tighter and narrow my eyes at him. “Were you eavesdropping?” Rhetorical question; he totally was. The longer my cold war with Emma goes on, the worse of a snoop Owen becomes. As though he knows something isn’t right, and he’s trying to figure out what it is.
“No,” Owen says unconvincingly. “I was just…” A loud knock sounds on the front door, and he gets a total saved by the bell look on his face. “Going to tell you that someone’s at the door.”
“Sure you were,” I say, and then I frown when the knock sounds again. “Weird. I didn’t hear the intercom.” I’m assuming it’s some kind of delivery, but normally we have to buzz people through the front door before they can come upstairs. “Did you?”
“No,” Owen says. “Are you going to answer it?”
“Let me see who it is.” I cross the living room and press one eye against the peephole. The face on the other side is distorted, but still irritatingly familiar. “Ugh. You have got to be kidding me.”
Owen hovers beside me. “Who is it?”
“Go to your room, okay?” He doesn’t move, and I give him a gentle shove. “Just for a few minutes, and then I’ll come play Bounty Wars with you.”
Owen grins. “All right!” He scoots away, and I wait to hear the click of his bedroom door before undoing the deadbolt.
The door swings open to reveal Brandon Weber in the hallway, a lazy smirk on his face. “Took you long enough,” he says, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.
I cross my arms tightly over my chest, suddenly all too aware of the fact that I took my bra off when I got home from school. “What are you doing here? Who let you into the building?”
“Some grandma was coming out when I got here.” Of course. That’s how the world works when you’re Brandon Weber; doors just open up whenever you want them to. He looms over me, way too close, and I step back as he asks, “How come you’re not answering my texts?”
“Are you for real?” I scan his pretty, pouty face for a hint of comprehension, but there’s nothing. “You laughed at me, Brandon. Sean was being a total creep, and you joined right in.”
“Oh come on. It was a joke. Can’t you take a joke?” He moves closer again, putting one hand on my waist. His fingers dig into my thin T-shirt, and his lips curl into a smug smile. “I thought you liked to have fun.”
I push him away, anger buzzing through my veins. I’ve been the bad guy all week: the one who betrayed her sister and deserves whatever she gets in return. It’s almost a relief to be mad at someone besides myself for a change. “Don’t touch me,” I snap. “We’re done.”
“You don’t mean that.” He’s still smiling, clueless as ever. He thinks this is a game, one where he makes all the rules and I’m lucky just to get a chance at playing. “I miss you. Wanna see how much?” He tries to move my hand toward his crotch, and I yank it back.
“Knock it off. I’m not interested.”
His face darkens as he pulls me toward him again, harder than before. “Don’t be a tease.”
For the first time since he arrived, I feel a spark of apprehension. I’ve always liked how strong Brandon is, but right now—I don’t. I’m still angry, though, and use that adrenaline to wrench out of his grasp. “Really? Let me see