Page 12 of Bitter Lies

Max has never looked so wild nor given off such hostile vibes. I mean, we’ve been at odds for years, but not like this, never like this.

“I don’t—”

“You should go,” Griff says silkily behind Miranda, his mouth curling in a devilish smirk. “You don’t want Miranda’s efforts to go to waste.”

Efforts?

“Griff,” she says, a delicate flush overtaking her face.

Yep, I definitely hate her, and did she just call him Griff? Bitch.

Wait? What the fuck? Is he implying…? No, please tell me she didn’t fuck him in exchange for allowing me to go to the party?

Sucking in an agonizing breath, I search his wicked eyes because he’s gloating—of course, my painful feelings are no secret to him. He thinks I’ll say no, knowing all this. The dick thinks I’m jealous.

Ignoring the fact that I am, indeed, jealous, I turn to Miranda with a militant expression and say, “Yep, I just need to change.”

She smiles and claps her hands, which for the record is weird, but whatever, and a glance at Griffin’s face reveals his absolute displeasure at my statement as he glares holes through me. Well, bully for you, jerk, guess I’m not jealous after all.

Skipping over the lie, I set about getting ready grimly, my pulse speeding through my veins already. I can do this. I will fucking do this if only to show Griffin I am immune to his petty bullshit. Fuck.

∞∞∞

The party is packed, wall to wall, room by room, and I’m claustrophobic and uneasy the minute we step inside. Miranda pulls me through the crowd, stopping where the drinks are spread out on the kitchen counter, and I eye them uneasily, pondering how to decline politely without looking like a bitch when Miranda hands me a Coke.

Raising my eyes to hers, she says lightly, “Griff said you don’t drink.”

I’ll just bet he did.

“Any other rules?” I ask dryly.

She flushes and gives me a sheepish smile. “Nothing to worry about. C’mon, let’s go out back and dance.”

Dancing isn’t exactly my thing, but if it means not talking about whatever Griffin told her, I’ll take it, even if I’m fucking dying to know.

Surrounded by a bunch of chicks I don’t know, I close my eyes and try to feel the music, but much like everything else I once enjoyed, the magic is gone. The lyrics tear at my soul, but more importantly, the bass’s thumping is like razors on my skin.

It’s all I can do to push away the memory that threatens to take over as I shiver in the air and will back the salty tang of sweat that twitches in my nose, and the overwhelming urge to scratch at my skin rises.

And after a few songs, I step away sadly, watching from the sidelines, the faint pulse of disappointment and frustration beating in my temples. Will I never find my way through this?

Miranda glances at me before turning back to her friends. I’ve no clue why she wanted me to come so badly she’d fuck Griff for it—not that that’s a hardship, I assume—but it leaves me seriously confused and a touch suspicious.

Anxiety has been humming below my skin since we got here, and I can’t keep myself from looking around for trouble and wishing I were in the safe confines of my room with the fucking lock my mom made sure to have Griffin install.

This is the dilemma I face every damn day. I don’t want to be trapped, but my own mind is trapping me just the same, and it’s fucking with my head.

“Hi.”

Turning, I find a cute guy with pretty blue eyes and long lashes smiling down at me.

“Hey,” I mutter.

It’s been a long time since a boy flirted with me, and I’m rusty and out of use, and despite the voice in my head telling me to back the fuck away, I remain because I need a fucking regular teenage ritual right about now.

Because I wanted Griffin to regret fucking Miranda in exchange for my freedom, I curled my hair in soft waves, applied deep purple shadow to my eyes, and pulled on the one pair of skinny jeans I still own.

It’s a testament to how much weight I’ve lost that I no longer have to lie on the bed to pull them up, but they’re form fitting just the same. I look as hot as I’m ever going to be, but my efforts were for naught because Griff barely spared me a glance when he sucked Miranda’s tonsils out of her head in goodbye.

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