warnings about staying away from the water. I turn to Oscar with an angry fire burning in my belly.
“Yeah, it’s a beach,” I snap, drawing his attention around and over to me. It’s only been nine days since we ruined Aaron’s couch together; it feels like a fucking lifetime. And yet, I’m still furious over the whole situation. I know we’re both trying to pretend it didn’t happen, but I only know my own motivations for doing that: I’m embarrassed. That was an intimate moment to share with someone, and Oscar ruined it for me by running off and refusing to tell me what was wrong. “Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one? Because you sound fucking stupid right now.”
Oscar scowls at me, breaking that placid asshole look he enjoys wearing as a mask on his handsome face. I feel a spark inside at his expression though. I mean, it’s proof that he’s feeling something, right?
“You’re a cunt, Bernadette Blackbird. I’m assuming you’re aware of that?” he snaps back at me as Vic’s bike pulls up alongside the Camaro. Victor doesn’t hear what Oscar said to me, but as soon as he climbs off the Harley, he’s side-eying the both of us.
“Do I need to intervene in this shit?” he asks as he studies the pair of us with a look that’s one-part amusement, two-parts jealousy. “You two need to work through your crap, or we aren’t going to survive the rest of the school year.” Victor stands between us in holey jeans and a tight t-shirt that says Fuck You on the front of it. Very subtle. Add in his large statue, muscles, and ink, and he gets gawked at wherever he goes. I thought security might tackle him on his way out of the hotel this morning.
“We have nothing to work out,” Oscar lies, his tongue as slick as a snake’s. He slides off the hood and stands up, iPad tucked under his arm as per usual. Bet you wouldn’t leave your precious tablet alone on her period after coming inside of her, you nightmare of a man. “All is business as usual. We’re running nearly fifteen minutes ahead of schedule.”
“Nothing to work out?” I echo and Victor groans, sliding his hand over his face. “You bloodied your dick and ran, Oscar. I mean, what the hell is wrong with you?”
The way he looks at me, I’ve never been more certain that I was looking in the eyes of a person who was intent on committing murder. Hopefully, just not mine. Maybe he’s thinking of Mitch Charter or something?
After all, we left Prescott High a mess.
We left them cheering our destruction in the hallways.
We left a missing and bloodied Havoc Crew.
We left Kali’s smirking face and Billie’s whispered quips.
My fists clench at my sides and I force myself to take a deep breath.
“Ah, yes,” Oscar says as Vic scowls, clearly annoyed at having to discuss me fucking other guys on his honeymoon. Yet another atomic bomb waiting to explode and wash us all in emotional fallout: Vic seemed to be under the impression that I wouldn’t be having sex with anyone else after the wedding. “That’s right: you’re the type that gets emotional about sex.” He looks me straight in the face, but I can’t read anything in those gray eyes of his. The light catches on the lenses of his glasses, further shielding him from my scrutiny. “But rest assured, Mrs. Channing, that it meant nothing to me; I’ve already forgotten.”
Liar.
The word sings in my mind, bright and clear and sharp.
I narrow my eyes, but I don’t get the chance to respond because Vic does it for me.
“I told you that things would change after Bernadette and I were married.” Victor’s words are low and dark, drawing Oscar’s attention in an instant. “I meant it. This is your warning, Oscar. Don’t make me follow through with a threat.”
Oscar’s face darkens and tightens up as he returns Victor’s stare, all the while desperately trying to maintain his stoicism. He’s acting like this situation doesn’t bother him, but it’s breaking him into pieces. It’s written in the tense lines of his body, in the shape of his mouth, the way his knuckles turn white as he grips the tablet in stern claws by his side.
“Understood, boss.” His eyes flick my direction as he reaches up a tatted middle finger to push his glasses up his nose. “My apologies, Mrs. Channing. All I meant was that you needn’t worry