Page 60 of The Chase

It’s barely ten thirty. I wonder if his early return is a good sign, but Fitz squashes that notion by saying, “Pretty good.”

I promised myself I wouldn’t ask a single question about his stupid date.

My mouth doesn’t feel like obeying.

“I’m surprised you went out with a fashion major,” I blurt out.

He shrugs, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe. “She’s also a Visual Arts major. Her medium’s abstract painting.”

Of course it is. Nora seems like the kind of girl who’d throw a glob of black and pink paint on a canvas and then stand there pontificating about how the “piece” represents anarchy and/or the inequality of women.

“I see. So you spent the whole time discussing Monet and Dalí, I suppose?” I meant to tease, but the words sound almost like an attack.

Fitz senses it too. His eyes narrow. “We talked art, yeah. Is that a problem?”

“Of course not. Why would it be?”

“I don’t know. Why would it?”

“I just said it wasn’t.” My teeth clench as I reach for my water bottle. I have a hard time swallowing on account of my tense jaw, but I manage. “I’m glad you two share similar interests. Imagine how dreadful it would’ve been if she spent the whole night babbling about the Kardashians.” I cap the bottle, hastily adding, “Not that there’s anything wrong with the Kardashians.” I adore Kim and the crew. I think they’re all savvy businesswomen, if I’m being honest.

“I love the Kardashians,” Hollis chimes in.

“If you say one word about their butts,” I warn.

“I like the show,” he assures me. “It’s funny.”

“Liar. No way you watch the show.”

“Bible.”

I gasp. “Oh my God. Okay. We’ll discuss the current season later.” To Fitz, I say, “Sounds like a super-fun date. All that art talk. Real deep.”

He props one hand on the door jamb. “Any reason why you’re being a bitch right now?”

What?

“Whoa,” Hollis murmurs.

I gape at Fitz. My hand trembles around the water bottle. Did he seriously call me a bitch? I don’t think I’ve ever heard that word exit his mouth before. And for it to be directed atme? Hurt and anger war in my stomach, making it churn.

The anger wins out.

Slamming the bottle on the table, I get up and advance on him. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really? Soyou’reallowed to sit there and make snarky comments, but it’s unfathomable for me to call you on it?”

“Guys,” Hollis interjects.

“I wasn’t being snarky,” I snap.

“You were mocking Nora,” he snaps back. “That’s snark in my book. And this isn’t the first time you’ve been bitchy toward me, Summer. You honestly think I haven’t noticed?”

“Noticed what? That I don’t particularly want to be around you?” I plant my hands on my hips. “I wasn’t trying to hide it.”

“Exactly. You’ve been openly bitchy.”

“Stop calling me a bitch!”

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