Page 44 of Seeds of Malice

I've lost track of how many glasses I've drunk and take another sip. It's just as good as every other sip I've had.

Cindy turns to me and offers, "I think we got off on the wrong foot."

"Oh, do you?" I ask, wary of her sudden nicety.

"Are you going to be nasty to me?" she accuses, and I realize that maybe I was, and that's not like me. So, I release a breath and apologize.

"No, I'm not. I'm sorry if it came out that way. I'm Ivy." I hold my hand out.

She gives me a dainty handshake like Avery did, which I don't understand. My dad taught me how to really shake a hand. When people don't know how to, it bugs me.

Her lips twitch. "Yeah, great to meet you too. You're from West Virginia, I hear."

Something tells me she's making fun of me, but I don't want to not give her the benefit of the doubt again, so I nod. "Yep."

"Mountain girl, right?" she adds, her lips twisting into a smirk.

My defenses come out. "Yeah. Something wrong with that?"

"No, just, you don't look quite as hillbilly as I expected."

Embarrassment floods me. Of course she'd think that.

"Cindy, that's rude. You can't say that these days," Marcey scolds.

"I can't?" Cindy questions.

Marcey shakes her head. "No. You have to call her a hick, not a hillbilly," she states, then looks at me and smiles, quickly adding, "But I wouldn't call you that."

Sure you wouldn't,I think.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, Cindy," Bobby reprimands, making me wonder if he likes me.

Avery interjects, "Let's move on from all this hillbilly versus hick nonsense. Who wants to play spin the bottle?"

Dax groans. "Not me."

"Don't be a pussy," Bobby chides.

Dax slides his arm protectively around me and claims, "There's nobody here I want to play spin the bottle with except Ivy."

"Oh, is she too innocent to play? She's probably still a virgin, isn't she?" Avery states.

"I am not," I blurt out, then remember Dax knows the truth. I guiltily look at him, and he squeezes my hip.

"Then why won't you play?" Avery asks, locking her gaze with mine in a challenging stare.

"I didn't say I wouldn't."

"No? So Dax doesn't speak for you?" she questions.

"Of course he doesn't speak for me. Besides, Dax isn't that type of person. Are you, Dax?" I say.

"No, but?—"

"But, what?" Cindy chirps.

"Shut up, Cindy. I've had enough of you," he seethes, then turns toward me. "We don't have to play."

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