Page 4 of How to Get Revenge on a Cheating Ex
Your guess is as good as mine. It started the day I got blonde highlights our freshman year, and it’s never stopped. Ever.
Grayson always tells me to ignore him, that it’s not an insult. He even argues that everyone loves Smurfette.
But I know better.
I watched those cartoon reruns right alongside Zack when we were kids—back when we were too young to realize that we had nothing in common.
Back when we actually hadeverythingin common because we were kids. All we did was play pretend and watch cartoons.
So I know very well that Zack thinks Smurfette is lame. I also know that he has super gross theories about her role within the Smurf community, with her being the only female and all.
Butone timeI made the mistake of fighting back on the nickname thing by calling Zack “Gargamel,” and Zack pretended like he didn’t remember anything about the Smurf villain or his cat Azrael.
I ended up looking insane as I tried to explain Smurf lore to the football team.
But Zack was lying. He remembered Gargamel. He so obviously remembered.
He’d just wanted me to look like an idiot in front of Grayson’s friends. The ones I actually like, I mean. And I do like Grayson’s friends.
All of them except for this one.
Unfortunately, this one is his best friend. The two are annoyingly joined at the hip. And as most people say the same aboutmeand Grayson…
Yeah. I spend way more time with Zack than I’d like.
“Seriously, Smurf—Bailey.” His use of my actual name has me looking over despite my best intentions to ignore him.
I was right about him working on a car, but it isn’t his. It’s his mom’s, the one she keeps threatening to replace.
Despite my hatred of Zack, I love his mom. I’m glad to see he’s working on her car because we all know she can’t afford a new one.
Unlike Grayson and his other friends, Zack and I live on the less-than-wealthy side of town, and after Zack’s dad took off, it didn’t take a genius to see that they struggled to make ends meet.
He eyes me from head to toe, taking in the ugly, pale blue polo shirt and the navy pleated skirt. “Going to work?”
“If you’re about to make a comment about how I’m wearing blue because I’m?—”
“No,” he interrupts with a laugh. “I wasn’t even thinking that.” He studies me again. “But now that you mention it...”
I can see that dangerous mocking glint in his dark eyes all the way over here on my side of the divide. ‘The divide’ is a literal line in the grass between our driveways. My side is neatly mowed. His is not.
Shocker.
The guy isn’t exactly Type A when it comes to his lawnorhis appearance. His faded gray T-shirt has grease stains, his jeans have holes, and his dark hair is too long and too shaggy on top, so it falls into his eyes as he crosses over the line to join me on our driveway.
My belly does that little backflip it always does whenever he gets too close.
It’s not attraction, it’s self-preservation. When Zack is around, I’m sure to be teased, taunted, or tortured. Sometimes all of the above.
Why Grayson is even friends with the guy, I have no idea. I gave up on being his friend years ago. Right around the time he started calling me Smurfette.
I don’t even try to hide my wariness. “What do you want, Zack?”
He stops short and...hesitates. That hesitation does not help the anxious churning in my gut. I’d say there are butterflies in my belly, but that isn’t the case.
Zack doesn’t evoke butterflies. He commands armies of bees.
It should be noted that I’m deathly allergic to bees.
