Page 82 of Bottle Shock

Page List

Font Size:

I smile. “I live here.” I don’t bother clarifying the semantics. She can come to her own conclusions.

Her smug face drops immediately. “Now it all makes sense.” Her eyes trace the length of me once again. “No wonder he never asked me out. His taste is clearly trash.”

I wish I could say I’m immune to verbal attacks, considering how thick of a skin I’ve had to build in the acting industry. I can take criticism from a director right on the chin. Butsomehow, the high school mean girls still get under my skin. Kathleen and her equally miserable little friends, with nothing better to do than tear someone else down—it’s pathetic, really. She hasn’t changed in over a decade. Still stuck here, in the same small town, clinging to the only power she ever had. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. But not enough to let her walk all over me.

“Gavin’s probably never asked you out because he doesn’t like you and the fact that you’re not anice person isn’t helping your chances.”

“Better to be a bitch than a slut.”

“You seriously want to dothis? Aren’t we a little old for name calling?”

“It’s not name calling when it’s true. We both know you’ve been ran through more than a motel bedsheet. Pretty sure the entire football team had you at least twice.And maybe you don’t care, but Gavin’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve to be dragged down to your levels. What kind of example do you set for his daughter.”

How dare she bring Lily into this. “You need to leave.”

She doesn’t move—just tilts her head, eyes raking over me like she’s cataloging every flaw. “If Gavin knew what a little slut you really are, he’d be disgusted. He’d never let Lily anywhere near you again. Not that it matters—it’s probably too late. You’ve already poisoned her with your presence. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before she’s out there showing all the boys a good time, just like you did.”

A surge of anger like I’ve never quite felt before courses through me. Not because of what she’s spewing at me, but because she has the gall to say I’m a bad influence on Lily. And then go even further than that and speak about a literal child in such a vile manner.

I’ve always had a soft spot for Lily, especially after spendingtime with her through Elyse. But since I’ve been back, it’s more than that. There’s a kinship there—an unspoken understanding. Like me, she’s growing up without really knowing her birth mother, trying to piece her together through old photos and secondhand stories, wondering if certain habits or quirks are hers but never really finding out the truth. I see that mix of hurt and hope in her. I recognize it because I live with it too. And I’ll be damned if someone is going to speak about her that way.

I’m so angry I want to cry and I hate that about myself because Kathleen would see it as weak, like she’s won this stupid made up competition. My hands shake, and all the words I want to say get lodged and tangled up in my throat. I think I might just launch myself at her instead. I’ve dabbled in jujitsu, I can take her. It was for a role, but still, it’snot like I didn’t pick up on some useful skills. But then a warm presence settles behind me, stopping me from going completely animalistic. It’s Gavin. I’m not sure when he got here and how I didn’t see or hear him pull up, but he’s here and suddenly I don’t feel quite so alone anymore.

Kathleen’s eyes go wide as Gavin comes to my side.

I don’t know how much he heard or what he knows, but when his arm brushes my shoulder, it enough to tell me where he stands.

Kathleen’s face transforms, all smiles. “I was just dropping off Lily’s bow.”

“I can see that,” he says flatly, gaze flashing to the crumbled bow in my hands then back up to her deceptive smile. “Thanks for dropping it off.” She’s going to say something, but he shuts the door in her face, cutting her off.

“Sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” he says carefully, his brows pinched with worry.

For a long moment, I just stand there. Hands shaking. Jaw locked. Thebow still in my fist.

“Where did you come from?” It’s all I can mange to get out.

“I was in the back. I went straight to the pool house to talk to you and when I couldn’t find you I came in here.”

“Did you hear what she said?”

He nods. “I heard enough.”

I’ve never really known what Gavin’s heard—or hasn’t heard—about the rumors that plagued me in high school. He’s not the type to engage in petty small-town gossip, but for whatever reason, I’ve never been able to escape it.

Going away to college, moving to different cities, only coming back for holidays or special occasions—none of it was enough. Without fail, the second I’m in Red Mountain, the whispers come back with a vengeance. The looks over shoulders. The quiet laughs shared between friends. The people who still can’t resist putting a target on my back.

And the worst part? There’s never been any truth to it.

All because puberty hit me late. My boobs grew three cup sizes between sophomore and junior year, and suddenly, I was getting attention I didn’t even want. But that didn’t stop jealous teenage girls from deciding I was their new favorite punching bag. It started small—someone claiming I’d hooked up with a guy in the bathroom during lunch—but it snowballed fast. Pretty soon I was the girl giving blowjobs at parties, sleeping with the football team, being passed around like a good luck charm.

The funniest part is, I was still a virgin. I’d barely even kissed anyone. It wasn’t until college that I trusted someone enough to go all the way.

Maybe that’s where my trust issues started. Maybe it’s why I burn through relationships so fast—always leaving before they can leave me. And maybe it’s why it cut so deep when a man I thought of as a mentor, someone I looked up to, crossed a line I never thought he would. I’d known him for years.Trusted him. And in the end, he turned out to be the exact stereotype everyone insisted he wasn’t.

It’s so cliché it’s almost laughable.

And after all that—after years of trying to outrun the lies that started in my hometown—I’m facing them all over again. This time in my career. Putting into question whether I earned my success or slept my way to it.