Page 31 of Spite

Chapter Thirteen

Xander’s house was small, its outside needing a new coat of paint. Its inside needed some updating, too, but it was quaint. I liked it. Felt homier than my actual home. Xander’s parents weren’t home, and for a stupid second, as I stood there, just past the front door, I wondered if I should even be here.

Too late for that, now.

With my backpack over my shoulders, I followed Xander to his room. He’d been oddly silent during the ride here; he was probably wondering why the hell he’d agreed to have me over. I set my backpack on the edge of his bed, reaching for my phone, texting Diane that I’d be late. She didn’t need to know why—and, honestly, if I hadn’t come here, I would’ve found something else to do, because she was on another kick to spend time with me. Trying to be my mother or something. It was disgusting, and it would never happen. I would never get along with that woman.

And, because I was a sneaky bitch—and you never know when you might stumble across any useful information—I slid my phone into my bag’s side pocket, but I didn’t turn it off. I had no idea how long it could possibly record, but I did buy the biggest micro-SD card I could find for this reason specifically.

Xander was at his desk, opening the top drawer on the side, slowly pulling out a black folder. He handed it to me, and before I had the chance to start flipping through it, he rubbed the side of his face, biting his lower lip. “Do you want something to drink?” He practically stumbled over his words, and I did my best not to smile at him.

Didn’t want to make him any more self-conscious than he already was.

“Some water would be nice,” I said, and he merely nodded, walking out. I meandered to his bed, sitting on it as I started flipping through it. Once the first page was open, I ran my hand along the thick paper, lightly touching the black and white photograph I saw. Cheerleaders, caught in mid-cheer. Looked like it was taken at a football game, due to the grass around their feet. They seemed genuinely happy about what they were cheering about; none of them were looking at the camera.

On the next page, I saw a picture of a kid I knew was in my speech class, only this picture, also black and white, was taken during lunch. His eyes were squinted shut, a giant smile on his face. And just like the cheerleaders, he wasn’t facing the camera.

As I went through the pictures, I found they were all black and white, which lent to an olden feeling. Each and every picture was someone new, whether it was a group of people or a single person. Everyone was laughing, smiling, happy. I turned to the last page, nearly falling backwards laughing when I saw that it was a dog rolled on its back, one of those bulldogs with the wrinkled faces.

Even the dog was grinning.

When Xander returned, carrying a glass of water for me, I met his eyes. How could he take such amazing pictures? How could he capture everyone’s happiness so easily? This truly wasn’t the Xander I knew; the boy I used to know never would’ve been able to do anything like this.

Since I made no moves to grab the glass from him, he set it on top of his desk. “What do you think?” he asked, tentative, even though he most definitely shouldn’t be. These pictures—I was no expert—but they were the best photographs I’d ever seen.

“Xander,” I spoke, meeting his eyes. I had to angle my head up, since he stood before me and I sat on his bed. “I don’t…these are…” Gosh, I was having difficulties speaking, wasn’t I? Kind of sounded like an idiot.

He took the portfolio from my hands, abruptly closing it and returning it to his desk drawer. “They’re terrible, aren’t they?”

I got to my feet, shaking my head. “No. No, they’re amazing. They’re some of the best pictures I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re just saying that.”

I took a step towards him. “No, I’m not. I mean it. Those were…how did you come up with that?”

“When everyone poses for pictures, they know someone’s watching. They put up whatever front they want you to see. When people aren’t looking, when they have no idea their picture is being taken,” Xander paused, his dark eyes lingering on his desk for a few seconds before meeting my stare, “then you can capture something real.”

I reached out. “That’s beautiful…” Wait. I shouldn’t be touching him. I should take my hand off his arm and step away. But I didn’t, mainly because I was caught in his dark gaze. Almost like a smolder.

“It’s not…” He quieted, closing his eyes. He didn’t move away from me, but I could feel his mind putting up a fence between us—something I couldn’t allow.

Before I knew what I was doing, I leaned into him, pressing my mouth on his, running my tongue against his lower lip, feeling the cool metal of his lip ring. It brought a shiver to my spine and a heat to my stomach.

But he didn’t kiss me back.

Xander pulled away sharply, stepping out of my reach. “What are you…why would you want to do that when I…” He shook his head, his black hair flying every which way. “The things I did to you, Elle, are unforgivable.”

I met his dark stare, saying, “I never said I forgave you.”

“Then why—”

“You’re not what I expected. You’re as broken as I am,” I said. The truth. This Xander wasn’t the same Xander. This Xander was so much more like me than I could’ve possibly known.

He let out a sad chuckle, moving to his bed. “You have no idea,” Xander started. He sighed. “Do you want to know why I’m not friends with Christian anymore?”

I nodded, moving to sit beside him, still tasting the aftereffects of the kiss on my tongue. I wanted to kiss him again—and this time, I didn’t want him to pull back. As he talked, I tried my best to listen to him and not ogle his mouth. That lip ring…

“After I heard what happened to you, I kind of spiraled. I didn’t think that…” Xander let out something between a sigh and a groan. “I was just a stupid kid. I didn’t think that anything I said would actually hurt you enough to make you want to…” He couldn’t say it, and I couldn’t blame him. “While Alec stalked your house and Christian was busy being in denial, I handled it my own way.”

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