“My room is as sterile as a doctor’s office,” I murmur, hating every square inch of it. “What is there to clean?”
Delphine pushes her glasses up her nose and comes in anyway, pulling a cart behind her that looks an awful lot like the ones hotel maids have. Only, hotel maids don’t wear silly frilly headbands like they’re working at a maid café in Tokyo.
“Paul and Tess like the sheets changed at least twice a week.” She shrugs her shoulders and then glances in the direction of the bathroom. “And the bathroom bleached from top to bottom at least once a month.”
“Fantastic,” I say with a sigh, and then after realizing I’m being a rude dickhead, I force a smile. “Sorry. I know you have it a lot harder than I do.”
“You don’t know that,” Delphine tells me, starting to strip the bed. I step up to help her, pulling the pillowcases off the pillows, even though I know I don’t have to do it. I’m buying time before I have to face Chasm again; we both know that. “I’m not involved in a love triangle with two guys.”
“I’m not in a love triangle,” I choke out, but maybe I am and I just haven’t realized it yet? If I were in a love triangle, I’m certainly not now. Not anymore. The look on Chasm’s face when he walked in and saw us …
“Your blush might say otherwise,” Delphine tells me with a grin as I drop the pillowcase on the floor and reach up to touch my cheeks. They’re burning hot, searing my palms. “Want my advice on which one to pick?” I blink at her and drop my arms to my sides, waiting for sage advice from a college girl. Because she must be a college girl, right? I’ve seen her yanking a Washington State hoodie over her head on her way out the door. “Pick neither. Boys are trouble. Stay single and happy.”
I grin at her. I mean, she isn’t wrong.
“Do you … I mean, how old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?” I start, and Delphine pauses to glance over at me.
“Nineteen. Why?” she asks, and I’m pleased to see that she’s the same age as Maxine. And Maxx. Fucking Maxx …
“If it’s not too, like, stupid, or something, you should hang out with me and my friends sometime.” I grab my school-issued iPad, my notebook, and a pen with a fuzzy soot spirit on the end of it (it’s a Spirited Away reference that most people don’t get which I love). Delphine watches me gather my stuff and then gives one, curt nod to acknowledge what I’ve said.
I head downstairs before Tess comes raging, and find Chasm in the dining room with Kimber. She’s practically hanging off of him which makes me crazy. First off, she’s fourteen and he’s seventeen and that’s gross. Second, he isn’t telling her to stop. Not today.
“Hey,” I say, and Kimber scowls at me as she stands up, uncurling her arms from around Chasm’s neck. Seeing her draped over the back of his chair like that … I clearly am in some sort of weird love triangle thing that I didn’t know about until just this second. I’m jealous, that’s the weird feeling in my belly.
“You really messed up today,” she starts, and I close my eyes because I just don’t have time for this shit today. It’s laughable, thinking that Kimber Celeste could ever be like a sister to me. We might share DNA, but she’s no Maxine, that’s for sure. I open my eyes again to see Chasm watching us warily. “I’ve never seen Mom so pissed off in all my life.”
“Fuck off Kimber,” Chasm snaps, waving his hand dismissively. “Leave us alone so we can study.”
The look on her face is priceless—but not in a good ‘I want to cherish this forever’ sort of way. No, it’s more like … she wants to literally kill me?
“I hope the Seattle Slayer gets you,” she spits at me as she storms past, tossing her blond curls at my face. I ignore her and take a seat next to Chasm. At this point, I’m not entirely sure that being taken out by a serial killer would be the worst thing. At least then I wouldn’t have to deal with Tess. Really, who could be scarier between the two of them? They’re probably a match made in heaven.
“Let’s quiz you on hiragana first,” Chasm says, as if he ever just gets down to business like this. Usually we gossip a bit, or he shows me something cool on his phone. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.
“Can we talk about the … Parrish thing?” I ask, but he just shakes his head at me.
Lips pursed, he murmurs, “nope.”
I turn in my seat to stare at him until he’s finally forced to look at me.
“What?” he asks, cringing slightly when I reach out to brush some of his hair back from his forehead. It’s stuck there because he’s sweating like crazy. I’m not sure why, considering it’s as cold as it looks in here. Tess likes to keep her ice cavern a chilly sixty-five degrees at all times; she says she can’t write if she’s hot. Fuck, authors are divas. The more I get to know one personally, the more I dislike them. Are all creative types this insufferable?
“Why can’t we talk about it?” I continue, digging my own grave with my big mouth. Why am I pushing him? If he doesn’t want to talk about it, I should let it go. “Are you pissed?”
He laughs at me then, and it isn’t a pleasant laugh at all. There’s a quiet fury in it that makes my skin ripple in warning. Goose bumps prick over every exposed surface of my body and then some.
“Pissed? Why would I be pissed?” He turns his iPad on and starts tapping the screen like he’s in a boxing match with it. “Here.” He shoves the device into my lap and then sticks a stylus in my hand. “Start writing.”
I open my mouth to protest—clearly Chas is full of shit—but then I hear footsteps in the living room area and turn to see Tess entering the kitchen. My lip curls up at the corner, and I refocus my attention on my work.
When Chasm is ready, he’ll talk. If he … wants to tell me something, then I guess he’ll tell me in time.
I just didn’t think it would be, like, fucking weeks.
Bag of dicks is trending by Monday, and I’m officially an interesting person at Whitehall all over again. The fact that Lumen and I are still ‘dating’ doesn’t hurt either though I feel sort of bad about pretending, especially since Parrish asked me to stop …
Ugh.
That rat bastard hasn’t spoken more than a handful of words to me since yesterday; I should throat punch him. Then again, I did find my pan of cornbread carefully wrapped, buttered, and sitting outside my bedroom door last night—with a single piece missing. Who else would’ve done that but for Parrish?
Anyway, school is nice because at least I have a place to escape from Tess. Every day I spend in that house is a century too long.
“The only person I really like is my brother Ben,” I murmur, helping Danyella go through an old box of costumes that she found in the back of one of the theater department’s closets. There’s quality stuff in here for sure. Expensive stuff. At some point, it’s clear that Whitehall Prep did enjoy putting on a good show.
I mean, I guess they still do, they just like it in the hallways and during parties on the weekends.
“I thought you liked Amelia and Henry, too?” Danyella queries, shaking out a dress and taking mental stock of all the parts she can rip off and repurpose elsewhere. I’ve learned over the last several weeks that even if she seems distracted, Danyella is a good listener.