Page 139 of Vicious Little Snakes
The act draws out a small whimper before she catches me off guard, shoving me hard as she laughs.
“You’re a degenerate. I’m not fucking you in a grocery store.” She takes two steps away, smoothing her hair, before counting on her fingers, a smile beaming on her face. “One, my ass is too posh to come next to a fucking box of Cocoa Puffs. And two, orange is not the new black—that gets to be your reality, not mine.”
I snap my fingers, then point to the floor, beckoning her back to the spot she’s walking away from.
“Get fucked,” she whispers. “You’re crazy.”
My head tilts as my eyes narrow. “Carebear. Don’t make me chase you.”
A laugh bursts from her lips before her hand covers her mouth.
“Liam,” she says it hushed. “Get a grip. Not happening. Wipe that look off your face.”
Her hair swings over her shoulder, with the pick up in her step, humor all over her face as she flips me the bird. I thrust the basket to the ground making a thwack, watching her jump.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Carebear.”
The look on her face is fucking priceless as she turns and speed walks away. I rub my hands together as I give her a head start because there’s nothing better than fucking with Caroline.
Caroline
Oh my God, he’s the worst. My cheeks are burning as I cut around the corner, leaving Liam behind with all his bad ideas. I’m walking just not fast enough to draw attention as I turn down another aisle and run straight into a body.Jesus.
“Oh. Goodness.” A polite and oddly familiar voice rings out.
I take a step back, immediately embarrassed. “Excuse me. I didn’t see you.”
My eyes lock to the well-put-together woman standing before me, and my heart arrests. No, no, no. The checklist for everything wrong inside this situation begins to ticker tape in my mind.
I look like a hobo. I’m wearing the same sweats from last night for the love of God. My hair is a mess, and I’m positive I probably smell like a whore since I fucked Liam right before we left the house.
Oh my God. This isn’t happening.
“Miss Whitmore. How nice to run into you. Metaphorically speaking.”
“Oh my goodness, Chairwoman Whitney. I apologize.”
I reach down, grabbing a baguette from the floor as she shakes her head. Of course, who the fuck eats bread off the floor. Oh my God.
I smile, tucking the bread under my arm, trying to save the moment. “I enjoyed my interview so much. So, it’s wonderful to see you again.”
What am I saying? This is the moment I will be remembered for amongst circles of women that tell the cautionary tale of being a dumb whore like Caroline Whitmore. If I want to save myself, I’ll need to die. Please, something, someone, kill me.
“As did I,” she answers. “And you can call me Mrs. Whitney, Caroline. We’re past the formalities. The invitations are sent.”
Faint, borderline hysterical laughter leaves my lips.
“So I hear. Fingers crossed.”
I clear my throat and smile, but she doesn’t return the gesture, opting to perse her tangerine-stained lips before speaking.
“I have to say, I’m surprised to see you here. Most girls are waiting at home for their tickets.”
There’s no point in lying. I’ve clearly not gotten a ticket. And frankly, missing midnight with Liam took precedence to my hopeful excitement.
“Your decision was made. Me waiting around doesn’t affect the outcome. If I was privileged enough to receive an invitation, it will be there when I return home.”
Fuck. Was that too much?
