Page 7 of The Masks We Wear

It’sallI’ve thought about. It’s frustrating that Lily can somehow stir up dormant feelings inside of me. That my body seems to have forgotten the pain she inflicted in my heart, or that the logical side of my brain can’t remember the hours I spent in the dark searching for her light.

I run a hand down my face, taking a deep breath. As much as I want to pretend I don’t give a fuck, I do. Even if it is minute.

“Don’t let her know she gets to you, Spencer. People like her feed off that energy, and it will only make things worse. Focus on your part and try to give her busy work. Make her feel like she’s really doing something.”

Remy chews absentmindedly on her bottom lip as she returns her focus to the open book.

She has a point. I can see Lily making my life a living hell and derailing my project to spite me for the fun of it.

Maybe I will go.

Show Lily that I care just as little about her as she does me. Even if it is a lie.

FOUR

Playing with Spencer’s fear—ourfear was a low blow, but I can’t find it in me to care.

I rub at my nose, a failed attempt to rid my nostrils of his lingering smell–an alluring combination of fresh air and cedar wood. It’s a deep musk that calms me, reminding me of a time when nothing mattered but spending all night in a treehouse, surrounded by scattered popcorn and open manga. We would laugh until we fell asleep, always finding each other’s hand in the middle of our dreams.

He never knew that part, though. I always woke up before him and would slip my hand out of his so he wouldn’t see. See how much he meant to me. See that when I looked at him, I was envisioning all the seeds I’d planted over the last seven years beginning to bloom into something magnificent.

What Ididn’twant him to see, was how terrified I was he would forget me like the people who were supposed to cherish me. Mom, Dad, and my aunt Mina, who I loved more than my parents combined. All of them disappeared without a trace, leaving me to wonder what the hell was wrong with me.

For a while, everything was fine. But of course, Spencer decided to ruin it, burning my fragile garden to ashes with just a few words.

I won’t let that happen again. I can’t. Not after all the work it took to rebuild it.

Amora clears her throat, and I realize she’s waiting. Her thin blonde eyebrows arched in anticipation. “So?”

We’ve met at my house to discuss everything I have planned, but I’m becoming easily distracted. Already his return is messing with me.

I shrug, half hoping she repeats herself while also wishing she would just read my mind so I don’t have to talk anymore. She’s been a friend since eighth-grade cheer camp, and it became apparent immediately she wasn’t going anywhere. I’m not big on conversation, while she yelps like a damn chihuahua, continually droning on about guys, drama, and more guys. None of which I’m interested in. My goals override all the foolishness that comes with high school. Perhaps that’s why my skin crawls when I think of my plan.

“What happens when you get him upstairs?” she repeats.

Part of me can’t believe I’ve resorted to something so juvenile, but I need to make sure Spencer stays far away from me while ensuring my childhood secrets remain locked up. Nothing could tear up my future faster than Spencer Hanes and the map of where they’re hidden.

Blaze grabs a fry from my plate, his dark eyes dim with boredom as he pops it in his mouth. His strong jaw clenches as he returns his gaze to the TV he’s been brooding over, raking a hand through his dark strands.

Like Amora, we met in the eighth grade at his football game. Something about the mask he wore matched mine, and we gravitated toward each other. It’s been nice having someone who understands me at my core. Understands when pain becomes a second nature emotion.

I snatch the second fry he tries to steal from his hand. “You think it’s stupid?”

His lips pull down, and he shrugs, his black shirt tugging against his thick biceps. “Do what you got to do. You’ve come too far now.” He grabs the fry from my lips. “Besides, you know I’ve done worse for less.”

Blaze continues his assault of stealing my french fries as he scrutinizes the players running back and forth across the screen. He sucks his teeth when the referee calls a foul and leans forward, grabbing his phone from the counter. He makes quick work, tapping out only a few words before sliding from his bar stool, and snatches up his leather jacket.

“Leaving?” Amora asks, her blue eyes sparkling under the kitchen lights.

It’s incredible to watch the way girls drool over Blaze, and even more so when they know how he’s incapable of feelings. He makes it clear, both with his generalfuck offaura and the actual ‘fuck off’ that spills from his mouth. They never seem to mind, though, overlooking anything that guarantees one night under him.

“Stacy wants to swallow my cock. Care to join?” he asks her before he shoves an arm through his jacket.

“Only if you lick this cunt while she does it,” Amora sneers, the twinkle now replaced with a borderline challenge.

He ignores her and leans in, leaving a whisper of a kiss on my cheek.

“Drive safe, Blaze. It’s wet. Let me know when you make it,” I call after him, stating the obvious. It rains almost every day. But I still worry about him on that damn motorcycle.

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