Page 37 of Riot House
A vicious light sparks in her green eyes. “We could have gone somewhere together, y’know. The fireworks over Sydney Harbor on New Years’ Eve were epic. You said you wanted to go there last year.”
Hah. Last year. Many things have changed in the past 12 months. “I’m sure you had a great time without me, Merce. You’re milking that cigarette for all its worth. Get it finished so I can go.”
Her smile morphs into a mirthless slash across her face. “No need to be so belligerent all the time, Wren. Is it so bad that I might wanna spend a couple of minutes with you? Am I reallythatawful? All that frowning and pouting’s gonna prematurely age you. And then what?”
“And then I’ll be hideous, and people will see me for who I truly I am,” I spit, sarcasm dripping from each word as I storm toward the door. I thought I could handle being out here with her, but I was wrong. She asked if she’s really all that bad? Hell fucking yes, she is. She shouldn’t even fucking be here. There’s no way Dash’s father sent her an invite, which means…
No.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I’m going to fucking kill him.
“You can’t just keep storming off,” Mercy calls after me. “I always know where you are, Wren.Always. We’ll be spending plenty of time together soon enough.”
I almost hesitate. I almost ask what the fuck that was supposed to mean, but I refuse to give her the satisfaction. Knowing Mercy as well as I do, she’s fully explained her intentions with that carefully delivered, off-the-cuff remark: she’s coming back to Wolf Hall.
I find Dashiell talking to a balding man by the overloaded buffet table. Manners dictate that I should wait until he’s finished his conversation, but I’m too steaming mad to observe social etiquette. “Mercy? You invitedMercy?”
Dashiell stops talking, his mouth hanging open. He closes it, then opens it again, groping for something to say.
“Excuse me. I see my wife beckoning me,” the old bald guy says, making a sharp exit.
Dash looks like he’d do the same if he could. “Look, I just think that this thing with this new girl…You’re not seeing things straight, Jacobi, and you seem to reset whenever Mercy’s around, so I thought—”
“So you thought, I know what I’ll do. I’ll drag the poisonous cunt who ruined Wren’s life across state lines. She’s bound to make everything better.”
“Goddamn it. You’re whispering. I don’t like when you whisper. Means you’re about to start smashing things. Can we—can we please just talk about this later? Avoid her if you have to, but maybe the four of us can sit down after—”
“Intentionally allowing that girl within a two-hundred-mile radius of any of us is folly and you know it. I am notsitting downwith her.”
As if magnetically drawn from the other side of the room by the promise of an argument, Pax appears with a napkin full of grilled shrimp in his hand. He looks devilish. “Guess who I just ran into.”
“I’ve already seen her,” I snarl.
Pax tosses a shrimp into his mouth, tail and all. “Mercy got hot, dude. And I’m talkinghot.”
This must be payback for kicking his headrest this morning. “Be very, very careful,” I hiss.
“What? It’s just an observation. No need to get so bent out of shape.”
Amused, he chews with his mouth open, watching me intently. I think he’s waiting for me to throw a fist at him. Between his blatant attempt to rile me and Dash’s utterly thoughtless attempt to smooth over troubled waters, I want to break both their goddamn necks. “Fuck this. I’m outta here.”
“You can’t leave. We came in one car,” Dash says smugly. Obviously, he thought about that; he knew I wasn’t going to be able to jump in my own vehicle and bail if Pax brought the Charger. Dash’s trouble is that he isn’t an immediate problem solver, though. I pat my phone, fury sizzling underneath my skin. “Don’t worry.I’llUber.”
“For god’s sake, Jacobi! Don’t be so melodramatic. Stay! Have a drink. Enjoy yourself!” Why he even bothers is a mystery. Dash knows that once my mind’s made up, it’s made up. He calls after me as I barge my way through the crowd, toward the exit.
“Come on, Jacobi! I thought twins were supposed to get on better than this!”
14
ELODIE
“Come on,girl. You know you want to.”
I don’t want to. Ireallydon’t, but Carina has a pleading look on her face that’s making it hard to say no to her. “I’m sorry, I’m just so tired. And a party? I won’t know anyone apart from you.”
“You’ll know me,” Pres sings, as she flies past my door, her hands full of a hot pink dress that will, one hundred percent, clash horribly with her auburn hair.
