And the way she says it, it’s like she’s joking but the look in her eyes makes me narrow my eyes at her.
“Uh, jealous of catching STDs and STIs?” I mock right back. “Sure, Kristine, whatever makes you feel less pathetic in your Foursome Fortnight.”
She scrunches her nose up at me, looking severely confused.
“Foursome Fortnight?” she questions, making me roll my eyes. Seriously how dumb can one person be?
“Never mind.” I sing-song.
“Well take it back because I’m not loose.”
There’s a moment of silence in the car before Jaz, Rye and I burst out laughing at her like she just announced she’s turning over a new leaf and will be a celibate nun seeking the face of God for the rest of her life. I’m all for religion if you actually mean it. Kristine, however, doesn’t take anything seriously in her life other than living to look and sound like the R.A.C.K.
“Stop laughing. I mean it!” Kristine snaps. “I’m serious about this. I’m going to get the man of my dreams tonight.”
“Just drop it already, Kristine.” Rye leans over the console from the backseat. “Shane Matthews only has eyes for one girl and it’s not you.”
“Shane isn’t the only guy that’s here tonight, and you don’t even know who I mean.”
“Who are you talking about then?” I question, checking my make-up one more time as I summon my best mask, mentally telling myself that everything’s going to be alright. It’s been a year, there’s no reason to continue looking over my shoulder like a seasoned criminal on the run.
“Julian Fitzgerald, of course.”
Kristine exhales his name with an ease that matches the way I immediately turn into stone in my seat. It’s been a year, sure, but I still can’t bring myself to say his name out loud, let alone try not to react to it.
“What?” Rye almost gasps. “They’re here?”
I watch Kristine closely, waiting for that answer like it’ll determine whether I’ll take my next breath or not.
“Well, they weren’t in there,” she murmurs. “But I heard they might be there.”
“Yeah right, they never show up to parties anymore,” Rye mumbles, disappointed.
“Well, except for Liam,” Jaz cuts in. “Now that exceptionally hot, I’ll-fuck-you-and-your-Mama manwhore, is almost everywhere, but God, I bet sex with him would change your life. I swear it.”
“Ah, showing our true colors are we, Jaz?” Kristine says, looking down her nose at her.
“I’d like to have sex with that guy, I don’t hide it,” Jaz counters. “Unlike other people.”
“Liam?” I question, blinking like a dumb little cheerleader.
“Julian’s younger brother,” Rye explains. “He’s our age. Sexy. A smart mouth. He worships his brother. How come you don’t know this?”
“Yeah, Mia?” Jaz frowns. “Sometimes I swear you live under a rock better than the ground.”
Silence falls in the car, as we all look at Jaz.
“That didn’t work, did it?”
“Try working on it some more, Jaz,” Rye pats her arm. “You’ll get there. But seriously Mia? You don’t know the Fitz brothers?”
“Oh, didn’t you hear?” Kristine starts. “Mia faints or looks sick whenever the Fitz brothers are the topic of conversation.”
“I don’t faint,” I mumble, looking away.
“Yeah sure.” She eyes me like she knows something I don’t. “I guess you’re not so badass after all.”
“Save it, Kristine,” Rye starts. “At least Mia doesn’t have to sleep her way up, hoping to one day end up in Shane Matthews’s bed.”
“Ah, now you look jealous, Mia.” Kristine gloats, staring at me with that haughty look all over again.
“I’m not jealous,” I murmur, scrambling to get myself together. “You can hop into whichever bed you want love; I’m not stopping you.”
“You sure?” she presses like she’s deliberately trying to get a rise out of me. “Because I’ve got something that you don’t.”
Rye and Jaz suck in an audible breath from the backseat as all eyes fall on me. It’s not the first time that Kristine has baited me, trying to get a rise of out of me, but just like all the other times, I shut her down.
“You’re right, Kristine.” I smile, grabbing the car handle so I can get out of here. “You certainly have shit that I don’t, like your thunderous bad breath, a plastic face that still needs more work if you want to look like Roxy Bishops’ broke abandoned, poorly constructed clone.”
I watch impassively as Kristine’s face grows red, her eyes almost bulging out of their sockets.
“You’re pathetic, Kristine. Everyone thinks you’re a loose-morals, street-belonging, basket case.” I drop my voice to a sympathetic whisper. “But those are just rumors.