Page 63 of The Heiress
I’d been there, able to provide that comfort and support. Not that I’d complained, but he’d probably woken up this morning wondering what on earth he’d done. No doubt, that’s why he’d fled, keen to avoid me.
Maybe it was best that I stay out of his way, keep my distance, be thankful things had worked out for him and Laura.
I sprung into action when a group text came from Mrs. Pritchard welcoming all the Whitney Hall girls back to school. She couldn’t wait to see us. Within seconds, seven girls responded that they’d be back soon.
With no sign of Phoenix and Laura, I packed up my suitcase to get myself back to school. At least I was capable of organizing myself now.
As the bouquet was delivered and I wrote the thank you note, I smiled at the memory of Phoenix’s kisses. They’d been soft and spine-tingling, toe-curling, able to stir the marrow in my bones, and my body jolted thinking about last night in the plunge pool.
It had been a bizarre weekend, but one where I’d found so much to be thankful for. My parents had sent me to Covington Prep for entirely altruistic reasons, to protect me. Yet I’d played my precious princess card and turned into an obnoxious, cold-hearted human who even I didn’t like. Spending time with Laura and Phoenix had opened my eyes...and melted my heart.
But in order to survive the rest of my senior year, I’d have to make myself believe Phoenix’s kisses were nothing more than assembly line kisses.
If I could do that, then maybe my heart wouldn’t break into two.
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Iunpacked my bag,arranging clothes in the closet and drawers and tossing worn clothes into the hamper. As I folded away my new sweaters, my heart lurched—I hadn’t brought back the pink dress I’d bought at Daisy Chain. I’d hung it in the walk-in closet of the bedroom and forgotten all about it in my haste to pack and call a taxi. Oh well, it was highly unlikely I would need it anyway.
Carting my hamper to the laundry room, I heard a clunking noise in Beth’s room. Tapping on the door, I poked my head through.
“Hi,” I said. “Did you just get back?” Beth stared at me with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow before nodding slowly. “Ah, how was your weekend?” I asked.
“Good, thank you,” she said politely, as if she was addressing a teacher. My shoulders slumped, well, I did deserve her disdain.
“Uh, I’m doing some laundry. Do you want me to take yours?”
“I don’t have any,” she said, and I realized losing my ice queen title was not going to be easy. My spirit deflated, knowing nobody was going to believe I’d changed overnight.
I loaded the machine, pressed the buttons and settled onto the seat with my paperback. May as well get lost in the drama of a fictional world. But after reading the same paragraph over and over, I gave up and closed the book.
The door opened amidst a clattering, Beth barging through with a cane laundry basket. I jumped up to help as half of her clothes fell to the floor. I gathered them up as she straightened her basket. The smell that I had to come to learn was fabric softener wafted in the air.
“Actually, I did find some laundry,” she said, sucking in her lips with an apologetic smile.
I opened the machine next to mine, tossing in the clothes. The rest of the clothes in her basket were folded and Beth emptied them in. I handed her the detergent container, peering in at what I was pretty certain was a load of clean clothes.
Once her machine was up and running, I sat back down, attempting to restart the chapter.
Beth hovered by her machine. “Uh...do you like apple pie?”
I looked up, unsure if it was a trick question or an attempt at small talk.
“Uh, sure.” I said, “who doesn’t?” Probably Phoenix would like apple pie; he was a fan of apple donuts.
“Mom sent me back with a bunch of mini apple pies,” Beth said, looking at the panel on the machine. “We’ve got fifty five minutes...would you like one?” She grinned. “Or two!”
I gaped for a moment—this was a turnaround from the frosty encounter minutes ago. But this was exactly what I wished for, and I did want to be friends with Beth.
“Uh, yeah, yum!” I replied enthusiastically. “Sounds great.”
Beth and I heated the apple pies in the microwave, going back to her room to eat them. Yes, pies, plural. The apples were grown in her family’s orchard and her mother baked the pies to sell in their cafe. And they tasted delicious, the lattice crust light and buttery and the apple spiced with cinnamon. Apples now reminded me of Phoenix.
Beth moved a stack of novels off of her bed so that I could sit down. A pile of school books were scattered over her desk.
“Did you get any homework done over the weekend?” I asked, trying to get the conversation started.
“Yes,” Beth said, “how about you?”
