Page 42 of You're So Vine
“All right, you horrible lot,” says Shelby. “Give Cam a break.”
Cam is shoveling food in his mouth like he’s entered some sort of contest. His revenge might be to not leave seconds for anyone else, and I wouldn’t blame him. There’s nothing worse than being the reluctant center of attention.
“I want to hear how Ava’s doing,” Shelby adds.
Oh, crap.
Time to lie.
ChapterFourteen
CAM
Jackson Armstrong is a shithead. An immature jerk. A shit-headed, immature, jerk-faced douchebag. A—
Ker-THUNK!
The Dodge hits a massive pothole I failed to see because of the red mist in front of my eyes.
“Could you chill just a little?” says Ava. “You know, so we can make it home alive?”
“Sorry,” I mutter, and ease my foot off the gas.
We continue in silence, but I can feel Ava watching me.
“You’re pretty good at hiding your feelings in public,” she says. “I don’t think any of us realized you werethissalty.”
Whynot? I want to yell. How would they have liked to be the butt of Jerkson’s jokes?
“Was it the content of the teasing?” says Ava, relentlessly. “Or the teaser himself?”
Relentless and perceptive.
There was a time some years back when I had the opportunity to smack the immature douchebag into next week. If I’d actually done it, I can guarantee he’d have learned to think twice before opening his smart mouth.
Regrets. I’ve had a few.
“Jackson Armstrong needs to grow up,” I tell her.
Ava’s quiet again.
“I think he’s unhappy,” she says. “And possibly unemployed.”
Who cares? If Jerkson has hit the skids, it’ll be all his own fault. Bet he made one too many jokes-that-aren’t-jokes and got shown the door by the boss, cheered on by his relieved ex-colleagues.
“Guess we’re all fighting our own battles,” she adds.
The rage in my head has fogged my ability to think straight. Takes me a couple of beats to register that Ava’s voice sounded a little reflective. A little scared.
Shit. I’ve been so focused on my own grudge that I haven’t given any thought to how Ava must be feeling. Like she told the others over dinner, Doc Wilson will be calling first thing tomorrow and the testing regime will begin. She did a good job of seeming unconcerned, suggesting that Doc was only going all out to reassure Ava’s mom, who is extra worried after her husband’s health scare. Though everyone let the subject drop, the unspoken question left hanging was, what happens if the testsdoreveal something?
‘What next?’ is a question Ava and I haven’t raised between us, either. And not only in regard to her health. What’s next for us? We’ve been thrown together like two frogs in a pot, and though I’m enjoying her company, I know this can’t last. The heat will get turned up and we’ll have to make a move. And what will that look like? I’m not in the habit of thinking about the future. A day at a time is how I live my life. But I guess you can’t keep hiding from situations that test you.
I pull in outside the workshop. Home sweet tiny home. Ava is yawning, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. It’s only nine-thirty, but it’s been a long day.
“Straight to bed?” I ask.
She perks up, gives me a wicked grin. “Where else?”
