Page 160 of Satan's Spawn
Alexis does so with pleasure, winking at me as she slides out of bed, folds in half back onto it and sticks her bare ass out for me under her skirt.
She looks over her shoulder, biting her bottom lip as I settle behind her.
Every devious feature on her face has my muscles tightening with disgust.
I fucking hate her. And I plan to show her how much.
“Punish me, baby.” She croons, in an attempt to turn me on.
It doesn’t, never did, but I will make sure she gets what’s coming to her for threatening me. Right now and when she least expects it.
28
BEX
“Remind me again why I agreed to this…” I groan as Hendrix zips up the back of my dress.
“Because you’re a bad ass bitch who won’t let some asshole keep her from having fun on her eighteenth birthday.”
I’d much rather be celebrating it in our room with Chinese takeout and binge watching Netflix.
This entire week has been nonstop events, games, rallies, parties, and even guest speakers taking us out of class to crowd the auditorium.
Instead of the syllabus we should’ve been focusing on, several alumni from as far as decades back came to stand before us and describe in great detail all the ways Riverside changed their lives.
I’ve done the bare minimum required for school spirit, listening to the extensive speeches and mock cheering during morning announcements every day when the person on the other end of the mic would scream “Go Royals!”
I stuck with my decision to avoid the homecoming game, where Saint ended up calling the winning play for The Royals, and he may still have a grudge against me for it.
Oh well.
Archer and Hendrix tried once again to make me go to the after party, but were understanding when I declined.
This dance tonight is more socializing than my fragile ego can handle.
We spent the majority of the time after school doing as many of my favorite things as we could: went walking by the pier, got some Starbucks, and even made a trip to Harold’s Donuts. I got the most delicious fudge chocolate donut, which Archer put a candle in so they can sing “Happy Birthday” to me.
I guess it was Hendrix and Archer’s way of buttering me up for right now, as acid and the fudge donut creeps its way up my esophagus.
“You look amazing, Bee.” Hendrix smiles at me, holding my arms out and looking me over. “Crayton is gonna wish he wasn’t such a colossal dickwad fucktart.”
That is a lot of made up insults.
I give my best attempt at a smile as I reach for my clutch off the bed and hike the strap over my bare shoulder. When I look in the mirror, I won’t lie and say I’m not impressed with the girl looking back at me.
Hendrix for sure being right, teal is my color.
The dress fits my frame like paint, even the apex of my hip bone prominent through the thin fabric my long blonde hair is falling over in waves.
I look beautiful, but what I feel is the polar opposite.
Until Hendrix jumps in the mirror with me, squeezing my shoulders. A true vision in purple. “Eek! We’re gonna have the best time celebrating you, boo!”
I grip her hand as she kisses my cheek, strutting off in a pair of heels matching mine that neither of us should be wearing.
If you have to practice walking daily in a pair of shoes, chances are they don’t belong on your feet.
“Promise me I’ll be okay.” I blink at her through the glass.
