Genesis Girl (Blank Slate #1) - Jennifer Bardsley Page 0,41

my dad?”

“Saying good-bye to Ms. Lydia.” Then I turn to him and try not to smirk. “They really hit it off.”

“What are you talking about?” asks the Virus.

“Nothing.” I pull the mirrored doors half closed, so the Virus can’t see me when I change into my nightclothes. But then on a whim, I open them again so he can see me when I head into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Through the mirror I see him lean forward and stare at my behind.

When I finally come out, he’s sitting on the velvet ottoman in the center of my dressing room. He pats the seat in front of him. “You look pretty with your hair pulled back like that,” he says to me, and for the slightest fraction of a second, I think it’s a compliment. But then the Virus adds, “I bet you could have done a great job selling soap.”

“Get out, Virus.” I don’t bother to sit. Why does he have to be so mean?

But the Virus doesn’t move one muscle. “My name’s not Virus. It’s Seth.”

I want him to leave. I want him to leave so bad that my fingers clench into fists and I’m ready to fight. But part of me wants to sit on that ottoman. To forget this animosity and remember the taste of his lips crushed against mine.

“Cal said—” I begin, but the Virus interrupts me.

“My dad said what about me? That you should call me Virus?”

“No,” I admit. “He said to call you Seth.”

“And what else did my dad say?”

I look at Seth lounging there, on my ottoman, in my room, saying every last thing he can to annoy me. He’s ink-covered and tech-infested, and he’s ruining my whole night! But Cal did say that I was supposed to talk to Seth.

“Cal said that I’m supposed to engage in ordinary conversation with you whenever the situation warrants talking.”

“Well then,” Seth says. “I have a situation that warrants conversing. Sit down, Soap-girl.”

I take a seat on the edge of the ottoman as far away from him as possible and try to stay calm.

“What do you want, Seth?”

“Nothing.” He taps his foot and his leg jitters. “I wanted to talk to you, that’s all.”

“We don’t have anything to say.”

“That’s not true and you know it! Blanca, I thought—”

“You thought what?”

“I thought you liked me,” says Seth, his face looking pained. “I thought you were falling for me as hard as I was falling for you.”

“Well, you thought wrong.” I only wish that were the truth. “Cal said I should do whatever I had to, so that’s what I did.”

“Whatever you had to?” Seth runs his hand through his hair so it’s crazier than ever. Crazier in a good way. “Not wanted to?”

“A Vestal would never want a Virus,” I say, willing it to be true. And I try not to remember. I try not to think about lying next to Seth with his arms around me, feeling his heart beat next to mine.

Seth sits there, breathing heavily, like he’s fighting for some type of control.

I’m fighting for control too. There’s something inside me, hurting.

“I wonder if you know,” Seth finally says.

“Know what?”

“You’re costing him.” Seth says. “You’re costing my dad everything.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your purchase price? Your crazy antics last month? They’re pulling my dad away from his business.”

“What?” I’ve never given McNeal Solar Enterprises much thought.

“So enough with this Vestal shit,” Seth says loudly. “Keep your Ms. Lydia away from my dad so he can concentrate on his business. That company means everything to him.”

“Seth.” I reach out to his shoulder but he recoils from my touch. The missed contact burns. “I would never hurt your father. Never! Not on purpose, at least.”

But Seth is already getting up to go. Right before he leaves, he turns and glares at me to get in one more jab.

“You and your Vestal crap are ruining everything!”

I sit on the ottoman, too upset to move. It takes me a while before I realize that I still haven’t locked the deadbolt. But then I see that wall of mirrors and I remember something.

Seth may be wrong about practically everything, but he got one thing right. I’ve got a face that can sell soap.

Selling clean energy should be equally easy.

I’m going to be the face of McNeal Solar Enterprises and make things right.

Chapter Ten

Ms. Lydia’s tempo is grueling. Right hook, left hook, right jab, kick. She puts me through my paces this morning, like she has every day