Page 81 of Made for Cyn

“Not if you’re pouting. Maybe it’s the only way he knows how to show you how he feels.”

“He’s fucking chicks to show me I’ve hurt his feelings?” I ask, raising a brow.

He shrugs, and I turn away. Maybe it’s true, and if it is, it’s seriously fucked up, but I guess it doesn’t matter now because I’m in bed with the enemy, and if Oscar is correct, that may be the biggest sin of them all.

“Thank fuck, we’re free,” Jig mutters, closing his phone and smiling at me.

“Oh, wait.” He roots around in his bag before handing me a brand-new phone.

Dubiously, I stare at it. “Did you even have detention?”

He just smiles and grabs my hand, placing the phone in my palm. “Don’t chuck this one, hmm?”

Silently I nod because I may not want to be chained by this, and surely that is what it’s designed to be, but knowing I have a way of contacting someone in an emergency is too appealing to say no.

“See ya,” Jig says, and I trail behind him slowly.

Iris gives me a curious look where she waits for me in the lot but shrinks away when Jig gives her an icy stare. Once more, I’m reminded of her betrayal. Is Jig right? Did Cyn sleep with her? But if not, why didn’t she deny it?

???

My new phone has Cyn and the guys’ numbers preprogrammed, and strangely, to my utter mortification, it has the selfie Cyn sent me set up as the wallpaper.

Did Jig do that? And if so, why?

Either way, he had to have seen it, and I’m wondering just how pathetic these boys think I am?

Militantly, I search out the most popular male actor I can find and save it to my background with a smug smile before my humor fades at the realization that I’d rather be staring at Cyn’s muscular chest. Unbelievable.

Setting it aside, I roll over on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Everything with Iris is strained, and she’s done something I’m not sure I can ever forgive her for. Cyn is equally guilty, and I just can’t understand why, but maybe there is no reason. Perhaps this is just Cyn, and I need to accept it.

I’ve been creating a foolish fantasy in my head. Now . . . what? I’m going to spend my days moping over a dick who doesn’t care about me or my feelings? No, I must let this go.

Besides, with John’s skeevy actions and Iris’ weird behavior, I’m determined, now more than ever, to get us out of this mess, and I guess that means I have to accept Saul as the messenger.

In my quieter moments, I’ve spent a lot of time searching my soul, and although I’m disgusted with whatever happened with Saul before—and half relieved I don’t remember a good part of it—I know it’s not the end.

Something has to give, because if I feel like this after getting felt up by the dick, how does Iris stand it every day? And I can’t get the look out of my head of her blank expression while she pretended to enjoy sex with him.

She may have hurt me deeply, but she’s hurting too. And what’s Cyn’s excuse? She was free, easy, a hole? I don’t know, and it’s eating me up inside, but no matter the answer, it will never be good enough.

With a sigh, I pull myself from the bed and put on my clothes before arranging my hair back in a messy ponytail. I may be headed for sin, but I refuse to make myself look good doing it. Foolish, I know, because it doesn’t change anything, but I guess it’s the small rebellion I need.

Pam leaves in about twenty minutes, and we plan to be off right before her, our new strategy to stave off John’s impulses. Mostly we sleep at other people’s places over the weekend and come home during the day, but it’s a tightrope we walk because he can break at any moment.

Pam’s at the front door when we descend the stairs, and she looks over Iris with a frown before smiling at me quietly. John stiffens so slightly it’s barely noticeable, but unfortunately, he steps up and I can feel him looming behind me.

My skin crawls at his heated breath, and I step away from him slightly, pushing into Iris, who gets the message and steps forward with me.

“Maybe you could stay home tonight, girls?” Pam says softly.

Iris snorts, her mouth twisting in a dreadful smile. “We’re just going out to have fun. It’s no big deal, Mom.”

“I know, but ba—”

“Maybe the next time you’re home,” Iris grumbles.

Pam’s concern softens and she nods, kissing Iris’ forehead. The sight makes my stomach burn and I look away, guilt churning uncomfortably. What are we doing?

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