Page 49 of Resist

“Well, will you look at that?”

“What?” I followed her gaze outside the window to see what she caught sight of.

“Looks like the huntress is on the prowl.”

My brows knitted together. “What the hell does that—” My jaw dropped. There, in front of me, was Wes. And with him was, “Blondie.”

“Blonde and bitchy.”

“You know her?” I kept my eyes on them, watching as Blondie’s hair flowed in the breeze. She kept tapping Wes’s chest, her silent giggles giving everything away while revealing nothing.

“Oh yeah, I do. That’s Calista. She’s got major attitude problems and is total bad news. You’ve met her before?”

“Only once.” I never took my eyes off of them, glued to the flirtations playing out in front of me while my stomach did somersaults, tossing my ice cream.

“Take my advice: stay away from her. That girl is trouble.”

“Like Chelsea?”

“Chelsea was willing to save your ass. This girl is more likely to backstab you and pluck your eyes out. Don’t mess with her, okay?”

I gave Edith a quick glance, but she was still glued to the show outside. And I couldn’t blame her. Because when I looked back out the window, I saw Calista wrap her arms around Wes’s neck, lips dangerously close to his.

And then she leaned in to kiss him.

26: Exes Ruin Everything

Everything within me froze. Calista’s lips drew ever closer as her hand slid up to cup Wes’s cheek while the other braced against his chest. And I knew she was breathing in his cologne—the wooded strength of sandalwood with the floral softness of lavender—soothing, captivating, intoxicating.

Time stood still as her lips brushed against his…

And then it was over.

Wes pulled back, turning his face, giving Calista his cheek. She paused, and then gracefully placed her lips on the curvature of his jaw, before stepping back and walking away.

My breath rushed out of me, and I gasped to suck in fresh oxygen into my deprived lungs. And I felt…relieved.

Wait, what?

Why did I feel relief? Why did I even care? Sure, Wes was my betrothed, but I had no intention of actually marrying him, and we weren’t anything to each other. So why did I feel relieved when Wes shut Blondie down? And why did I feel like I wasabout to suffocate when I thought they were going to make out right in front of me? Why did it matterat all?

“Shit.” Edith sat back in her chair. “Girl,” she drawled, “if Calista’s putting the moves on Wes, then you’ve got trouble.”

“Why?” I muttered as I kept my eyes on Wes, standing stoically with his hands in his pockets. He didn’t move a muscle until finally, he lifted his head and looked right at me. Our eyes locked, glass acting as our only barrier. Then he rolled his shoulders back and walked away.

Maybe he didn’t see me after all? I mean, if you were almost smooching some blonde and realized your fiancé was watching, wouldn’t you try to talk to her about it? Seriously, what was the problem with men these days? Nobody said crap—at least not about the things they should talk about—and then they just ghosted you.

Thinking he didn’t see me felt better somehow.

But why does it even matter, Mara?I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t know why this was bugging me so much, but it couldn’t. I couldn’t let it get in the way.

“Earth to Mara!”

I snapped back into the room, turning to face Edith, who looked like she was about to bop me on the head with her spoon. “Yeah? I’m sorry, I’m just…”

“Pissed? Ready to claw her eyes out? Cat fight it up?”

My brows pinched in confusion. “What?No.You just told me to stay away from her.”

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