Page 10 of Broken Rivalry

It is not a random encounter, not after he came here calling me “Donovan.” He wants me to know that he knows. “For me to admit my family wronged yours? Fine!” I wave my hands up. “My family is the one to blame, and you are the perfect lamb. Can we move on now? Good!” I add, giving him my back and walking to the door.

“Why are you a freshman?” he asks as if I’d not just dismissed him.

I turn around. Apparently, he was not done with me.

“How come you’re not at Harvard like Daddy Dearest?” I retort. I, too, am able to pretend I didn’t listen.

He shrugs. “Things change. We need to talk.”

About what? I’d like to ask, but instead say, “I don’t think so. I granted you victory. I can do it in writing if you want. I would rather we go back to what we should have always been. Perfect strangers. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me; how about that?”

“No, that won’t do.”

“We’ve got nothing to say to each other, Ethan Hawthorne. I hate you and everything you represent. Even your name feels like poison on my tongue. Do you understand that?” As I utter the words of hatred, I notice a brief flicker of something in Ethan’s eyes. Is it hurt? Anger? It’s gone before I can decipher it, replaced by the same cool indifference.

His eyes scan the modest surroundings. “Why are you living here?” His question, laced with genuine curiosity, catches me off guard.

I touch the side of my head. Am I having a stroke? It feels like he’s not hearing a word I’m saying.

Despite my clear dismissal, Ethan stands his ground, his gaze unwavering, a stubborn resolve hardening his features. “I’m not leaving until we talk, Poppy.”

My heart beats erratically against my chest, a confusing mix of annoyance and an unwilling curiosity about his sudden appearance and insistence.

Relief washes over me as Nessa appears down the path. Her black-and-purple dress and leather spiked choker stand out, a way of escaping from this uncomfortable encounter.

My eyes lock with Nessa’s, a silent plea etched in my gaze. Escape, my eyes scream as Ethan’s voice continues to drone in the background.

Nessa walks over to stand beside me, even nudging me a little out of the way to stand directly in front of Ethan, eyeing him with her steel-blue eyes. She’s far more impressive than me, standing at five foot ten.

“Small prick,” she greets him, her voice dripping with disdain. She squares her shoulders, her stance protective and defiant, ready to shield me from Ethan’s unwelcome intrusion.

“Morticia,” he replies. “The Emo Anonymous meeting is down the road. You better run along.”

Nessa straightens up even more. “No thanks, I’m back from the Wiccan store, and I have new voodoo dolls and hexes to try out. Do you want to be my guinea pig?”

“This isn’t over, Poppy,” Ethan warns, his voice low and menacing. He backs away, his glare lingering on me, a silent promise of a continued argument. He turns and strides down the path, his departure as abrupt as his arrival, leaving behind a trail of unease as he disappears into a shiny black SUV.

Nessa keeps her eyes on the car until he drives away and turns toward me. This is something I love about her. She always concentrates on you when she speaks, her blue eyes staring at your face as if she is trying to hypnotize you.

“Should I hex him?” she asks, eyebrows merging in genuine worry.

I can’t help but smile. “Do you know how?”

She exhales, looking down at her phone. “No, not right now, but I’m sure Google can help.” Her fingers are already dancing over her phone, ready to search for the most potent hexes.

She looks up and grins.

I laugh earnestly now. “No, he’s part of a past I’d rather forget.”

“Ah, the past has a way of coming back and hitting you in the face like a shovel when you least expect it.”

I wince. “That’s graphic.”

She shrugs. “That’s life.”

Life… I do know how unexpectedly things can change. That realization steers me back to my current predicament. Without Eva, my only option is to take an Uber home. I was a little embarrassed about not being able to do something as basic as ordering transportation.

“Can you—” I stop mid-sentence as I see Eva turn into the parking lot, a wave of relief washing over me at her timely arrival. “Oh!” Sometimes, fate does show a little reprieve. “Sorry, I have to go,” I call as I start running toward Eva’s car. “I’m late!” I add, but she doesn’t reply, and I turn just as I reach Eva’s passenger door and see her disappear into the building.

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