Page 156 of Satan's Spawn
“That wasn’t the only condition and you know it.”
“I willneverbe your friend.”
“You will never behisfriend either.”
Of course this all filters back to Felix somehow.
“Maybe I no longer give a shit about what you do with that tape.”
“You and your lies…” Crayton tsks. “We both know how badly you want to get into Stanford, and how bad it would look if the school found out you’re a closet voyeurist.” His lip curls. “Pun intended.”
I turn to face him, throwing my hands up in the air. “What the fuck do you want from me, Crayton?”
Besides not fucking Felix, which is looking more appealing by the second.
“You know exactly what I want, Rebecca. Just like you know exactly what will happen if you don’t give it to me.”
The sound of metal sliding has me spinning around, finding Saint standing in the doorway. “What’s up, guys?” He asks, wary eyes darting between us.
My only response is to blow past him, holding my bag to my chest as I race down the hall.
27
CRAYTON
“Dude.” Saint falls back on his bed. “What the hell is going on between you and Bex?”
I pace back and forth, trying to contain the fiery rage searing my insides. “Mind your fucking business, Lavell.”
I blow out a breath, scrubbing a hand down my face as I try to comprehend what the fuck Rebecca was thinking going after Alexis the way she did.
What the bitch said was fucked up, yeah, but Rebecca just put a bounty on her own head.
Here’s the thing about Alexis…she may be all bark no bite…but she’s resourceful. And holds a nasty grudge.
Which didn’t matter when Alexis believed Rebecca was off limits, but now that I publicly snubbed her, she’s become ripe for the picking.
And if I want to keep up this facade with Rebecca, keep her from getting tangled up in my destruction, the last thing I should be proving to her is how bad I want to protect her.
This girl, man. Now she decides to grow a backbone.
“Bex doesn’t deserve the shit you’re pulling with her,” Saint rumbles. “She’s a good girl and you know it.”
Of course I fucking know it, now at least.
Saint was right.
Rebecca may look a fuck of a lot like Miriam Thatcher, but she’s nothing like the bible slewing extremist cunt.
In fact, I think the busted up organ in my chest managed to grow a soft spot for her.
Which is exactly what every motherfucker in this building can never suspect.
She’s my blind spot.
My weakness.
And, fuck, staying away from her has been like trying to resist a gravitational force.
