RIOT HOUSE (Crooked Sinners #1) - Callie Hart Page 0,76
is a sharp-edged lump of rock. It refuses to beat as I step onto the blanket, the thick woven material soft on the soles of my feet, and I lower myself down into a seated position. Wren smiles to himself and my temper spikes. “I don’t know why you’re grinning. You haven’t won anything. Don’t go marking your score card yet, Jacobi.”
Instead of squashing his smile, my annoyance only encourages it to grow in size. “I’m not keeping track of points. And the only thing I’m interested in winning—”
“God, don’t even say it,” I interject. “Do not. It’ll only make me hate you more.”
He opens his eyes, watching me askance, his lips slightly parted. Both his eyebrows shoot up, and I know he’s going to finish his ridiculous sentence. “—is your trust.”
“When I was six, I stayed up every night, waiting for Peter Pan to fly through my window. I waited every night for him to come take me away. I wanted fairy wings, and a beautiful dress, and I wanted to escape with him to Neverland. Guess what? It didn’t happen. I grew up and I realized it was dumb to wish for things that were impossible. You should probably do the same.” My tone is so thick with sarcasm that it feels oily and uncomfortable coming out of my mouth. I’ve never spoken to anyone like this before. Honestly, I don’t like how it makes me feel.
Wren rolls onto his side, his brows crimping together. He props his head up with his hand. “Have you stopped to question why you harbor this kind of negativity toward me, Stillwater? I mean, really asked yourself why?”
“I know why. You’re an arrogant fuck boy with no conscience who terrorizes the people of this academy without a second thought.”
“And you have proof of this?” he asks evenly. “You’ve seen it with your own two eyes?”
“Are you serious? You’re being serious right now?”
He nods.
“Well. Let’s see. You dumped a load of rotten meat in my desk. It smelled like rotten meat, anyway. And you threatened Tom when he didn’t want to manipulate me into giving him my phone. And you broke into my room—”
“You know I didn’t do that.”
“I know you did,” I argue.
He shrugs a shoulder, laughing bitterly under his breath. “What else do you know?”
“I know that—I know that you—you’re—” Ahhh, fuck.
“You know that Carina doesn’t like me. She’s been your primary source of information about me, right? And she’s so wounded over Dashiell slighting her that she’d hate me and Pax along with Lord Lovatt no matter what. What else?”
“Just because I haven’t experienced you being a dick firsthand doesn’t mean that it’s not true.”
“So, I put a couple of frog’s legs in your desk. I’ll admit, that wasn’t very nice. I apologize for it. And I’m sorry I threatened Tom. I’m not very good with people sometimes.”
“No shit. That has to be the understatement of the century.”
He pins me beneath a very serious, very green stare. “Are you done?”
I bite the tip of my tongue, glaring back at him.
“I’m sorry that I’m imperfect. I’m fully aware of my flaws. But I’ll work on a few of them if it’ll make you happy.”
“Hah! Like my happiness means anything to you.”
Sitting up slowly, Wren turns so that we’re facing one another, his expression frighteningly intense. “I care very deeply about your happiness. More than I should. I care about being personally responsible for your happiness, and that—” he shakes his head, “—is a confounding realization, believe me.”
He looks so astonished by this turn of events that I actually believe him. “Must be weird, caring about someone else when you’ve only ever cared about yourself before.”
Wren flashes his teeth—a quick grimace that looks pained. “There you go, making assumptions again. How about this? You suspend judgment against me for three nights. You come up here and you meet with me, and we talk. You actually listen. And then…then you can decide if I’m the Anti-Christ. At which point, I swear on my family honor that I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.”
“Three nights? If it’ll take you three whole nights to convince me that you’re not a horrible person, then I’m not sure I sho—”
“Just quit being so spiky and agree already,” he groans. “Tonight, tomorrow night, and Sunday night. That’s it. Three nights. I’ll be on my very best behavior.”
“And I’ll see that you’re not some evil monster and I’ll fall in love with you?”