Page 12 of I Blame the Rival

Mila flaps her hands, “Wrong answer. Everyone wants a guy who will burn down a kingdom for his true love.”

I lift my head, “I didn’t realize arson was the new romance standard.”

“It’s not about the arson, it’s about the act itself. Wouldn’t you want someone willing to throw away their morals to save you?”

My teeth clamp together, silencing my response.

Even if Mila hadn’t been disappointed with my lack of heroic acts, we never would have worked out. She’s too idealistic to realize that sometimes the cost of being saved is too high. Sometimes the morals you trade and the secrets you keep don’t make you the hero or the villain.

It makes you the monster.

Mila sighs, “Learn to lighten up and have some fun, Sky. It’s not good for you to be quiet and moody all the time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Turning on my heel, I leave the room and walk back to my spot by the till.

The plastic bag Vector gave me bumps against my leg as I slide back into the booth. Reaching into the bag, my heart stops as the crisp edges of a brand-new sketchbook greets me.

He bought me a new one.

Just like he promised.

Frowning against the lump in my throat, I flip through the pristine pages, thinking about what my next project is going to be. Normally, I do a collection of drawings related to an overarching theme, one that typically results in gruesome images of unleashed anger and cruel violence. The kind I grew up witnessing.

But I want this one to be different. I want this one to be a step towards a better future. The start of a better me.

And I know exactly what the theme is going to be.

Chapter3

Lacey

“No more kissing! It’s time to leave.”

Grabbing my brother’s shirt, I have to physically drag him out the door when he tries to go back and give Trip another kiss goodbye. I swear, the amount of PDA these two perform on each other is enough to make a nun nauseous.

Wesley laughs, finally following me out the door, “Pop a chill pill, Lace. Your session doesn’t start for another hour.”

“You know I like to be there early.”

He clasps his hands together in prayer, “Thou shall not miss the companionship of thou garden.”

“Whatever, Shakespeare.”

Holding back a laugh, I follow him out of the residence building and towards the parking lot. To make sure I have time to read and write a response to Skylar, I always make sure my therapy ride gets me there fifteen minutes early. Given mynatural obsession with flora, it wasn’t hard to convince Wesley that every week I needed the extra time to admire Karen’s flower garden.

I’m not sure why I haven’t told anyone about the sunshine tissues Skylar leaves me. Starting a friendship with another therapy patient is nothing to be ashamed of, and a part of me is proud of the progress I’ve made since our correspondence began. Skylar makes it so easy to open up that it finally feels like these therapy sessions are working.

I guess a part of me wants to keep Skylar to myself for a little while longer. This is the first friend I’ve made without Wesley or Nico’s help, and I don’t want to do anything that puts our newfound friendship in jeopardy.

“Lola, you sexy beast! It’s been too long.”

Wesley purrs as we approach the godawful car my brother inherited on his sixteenth birthday. The old Ford’s bumper is hanging on by zip ties and there’s duct tape holding most of the ceiling together, but that has never impaired Wesley’s love for the vehicle.

Personally, I think Lola’s a bitch. The few times I borrowed her, she did everything she could to make my life miserable. She even went as far as to release the parking brake the one time I decided to park on a hill.

After that panic-filled day, I stopped asking to drive my brother’s rust bucket.

“She’s uglier than the last time I saw her.”

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