Page 9 of Bitter Lies

He huffs, his eyes black as he glances at me. “How does the professor of our class on our first day of college know you by name?”

“I don’t know,” I say waspishly. “Maybe my mom called and gave him a heads-up, too. Watch out for Halsey Moore. She’s batshit crazy!”

“Halsey…” His warning tone brings my back up as he shoots me a cool glare.

“Griffin,” I return like a five-year-old child.

“Fine, you want to play that way?” he mutters, clenching his jaw. I stare fascinated because I haven’t seen this much emotion from Griffin in forever.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing. Get out!” he barks as we pull up to the curb.

Exiting the vehicle, I slam the door behind me and stalk to the house, tears of frustration welling in my eyes. Fucker. This is none of his business, and he’s not my fucking father. He’s not my brother. He’s not even my friend. Back off.

∞∞∞

I’m still brooding hours later when Max pounds on my door, saying brusquely, “Dinner.”

Staring at the door with disbelief, I wonder not for the first time if I’m ever going to be treated like a fucking adult. I can feed myself.

Annoyed, I tromp into the dining area and skid to a stop to find the chick from this weekend embracing Griff in the kitchen, and my pulse stutters before speeding through my veins rapidly.

Ignoring it all, and them, I grab a plate from the spread before me, noting it’s actually a real meal. Huh. I didn’t know the boys could cook.

Hesitating, I stand at the threshold to the dining room and consider hiding out in my bedroom until Max says gruffly, “Sit.”

Or not. With a petulant roll of my eyes, I plunk my plate down across from him and glare, but he’s ignoring me as he chews his food silently. Griff and chick, whose name I can’t recall, sit down across from each other at the tiny four-seater table, all cozy-like.

And what commences is an incredibly awkward dinner where the only person who isn’t vibrating with tension is chick, who chatters nonstop while I pick at my meal.

Curiously, I’m picking up tension between Griff and Max, which is unusual; their tension toward me not so much. I’m not entirely sure how she can keep rolling when I can barely eat with the frigid atmosphere, but maybe this is how she deals? Who knows?

“Anyway, there’s a party this weekend at my sorority. You want to go, Halsey? That’s your name, right?”

My head swings around, and I blink at her blankly before her words penetrate.

“Um.”

“No!” both guys say harshly, the only point in which they seem to be unified this evening.

We both turn to them with wide eyes before mine narrow. Truthfully, I was going to say no because a party sounds like the seventh circle of hell, but now I’ll be at that party with fucking bells on, even if I hate every fucking minute of it.

Calmly, I say into the breach as she stares at them curiously, “Yes, I’d like to go.”

“Hals,” Griff says in warning as Max picks up his plate heatedly and stalks away.

Shocked at the nickname uttered so casually, I can’t do much more than stare, my heart stuttering in my chest as memories assail me of the Griffin from before. Griffin’s eyes flicker before he looks away with a tic in his jaw that I once again focus on, bemused to see.

“What’s the harm?” chick asks softly.

“Yeah?” I turn to Griffin with the same damn question, as he looks between us with a furrowed brow.

His eyes are dark, as he hesitates. “You don’t understand, Miranda. It’s not safe…”

My heart pulses in my chest, but I refuse to acknowledge it because no doubt there’s a fucking plan in there somewhere. Maybe he doesn’t want me around to cockblock him; that sounds more likely.

“But it’s safe enough for me?” Miranda says, raising a mocking brow.

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