Page 115 of Satan's Spawn
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Not much could makea girl’s day worse than almost kissing the boy she hates but instead getting rejected by him.
Probably because girl’s shouldn’t be kissing the boys they hate.
Internal eye roll and slap to the forehead.
Ugh.
I fall back on my bed, still in my bathrobe as I stare at the ceiling. Hendrix and Archer are going on about who knows what as I try desperately to forget how stupid I was earlier.
How could I honestly think Crayton would want to kiss me? Kissing is personal, intimate, everything the asshole is not.
Archer said it himself, Crayton doesn’t even bother to pleasure the girls he’s…with.
Which means he only fingered me to prove some twisted point.
Then there’s the fun fact he blackmailed me and stole my medicine. All great traits you want in the guy you’re kissing.
Fuck what happened earlier, I need to forget about Crayton completely. Which is exactly what I’ll be doing once I get my medicine back and he deletes that damn recording.
“Dude!” Hendrix hollers. “Where are you right now? I’ve been calling your name like five times.”
I sit up, adjusting the towel on my head. “Sorry, just lost in thought.”
“Did something happen while you were swimming?” she asks with a raised brow, and Archer does the same.
“No,” I shake my head, trying my hardest not to flinch. “Why would you say that?”
“You've been off since you got back.”
Obviously I didn’t tell them what almostdidn’thappen with Crayton in the pool.
I carry enough disappointment for all three of us.
“Nah, all good. Just tired from the long weekend.”
“Well, Bex,” Archer cuts in, “if it helps, things are about to get a lot crazier with homecoming week just on the horizon.”
Fantastic.
“Doesn’t really help, Arch, given I’ve already made a spectacle of myself enough. Not looking to add any other major events to the repertoire.”
“Wait,” Hendrix stands, making her way over to my bed. “Don’t even think about telling me you’re not going to the homecoming dance.”
“Fine, I won’t tell you.”
“Bex.”
“Hen.”
“You can’t be serious.”
Standing, I untie my bathrobe and walk over to the closet, shrugging it off and draping it over the holder on the door. I’m in nothing but a camisole and boy shorts, which quickly became the norm for Hendrix and I in front of Archer.
Her, for the obvious reason I guess, he’s already seen everything. And for me, I just don’t feel the need to hide in front of him.
It’s like Archer has become one of the girls in the room without actuallybeingone of the girls in the room.
