Christian snickered, and Hayley buried her face in her hands. Missy shot them a wary look before changing her attitude. “Okay, sure.”
I winked. “Thanks.”
Then, she sat on my lap, snapped a picture, posted it, and stood up. “Sure that’s all you need?” Hope gleamed in her eyes before I nodded.
“Yep, thanks.” I winked again, and her cheeks flushed before she turned around and went back to her friends, looking back at me every few seconds.
“Trying to make Madeline jealous?” Hayley asked, holding back a laugh.
“Something like that.” More like making her come to her senses.
Christian’s head popped forward. “Are you sure you wanna make her jealous? She seems like the kind to bash your headlights in when angry.”
I scoffed. “She wouldn’t dare.” I sobered up for a moment. “You don’t know her like I do.”
He shrugged, pulling Hayley back into his neck and kissing her on the side of the head.
And me?
I sat back and waited for the show to begin.
If Madeline felt even a fraction of what I felt for her, she’d be here soon.
Chapter Forty-One
Madeline
My hand shook like a leaf as I stared at the photo. I hated social media because I knew how fake it was, but I also knew it was like crack to teenagers—mainly because it used to be crack to me.
As soon as I got Eric’s text, my heart dropped to the floor. It bled out all over the place, jealousy oozing from every open vessel.
Then, once I gained my composure again, realizing he was likely trying to get to me, I pulled up Missy’s IG account, and that was when my entire body froze.
Eric’s head was entirely too close to her stupid, perky boobs. He had a beer in one hand, and the other was wrapped around her waist as she sat on his lap.
Fire coated my skin, and heat stung my scalp. Jumping up from my bed, I began pacing my bedroom floor.
This was better.
He should be with someone else.
Someone who wasn’t fucked up like me.
Someone who didn’t have a diary-worth of drama at her back door.
Someone who the entire fucking school didn’t hate.
Nope.
Didn’t care.
I stomped over to my closet, briefly glancing at the glow-in-the-dark stars before pulling down my dusty-pink long-sleeve sweater and tight black mini. I threw on my Doc Martens, lacing them quickly, and slathered on some cherry lip gloss.
I was being driven by mad envy, and despite the rational part of my brain that knew very well if I showed up at the party, ripping Missy off Eric's lap, I’d be labeled as much more than the school leper, I still pushed my car into drive and headed to the cabin.
Eric knew what he was doing.
And I was falling right into his trap.