Page 16 of Subscriber Wars

I’ve never seen Fenn cry. Most days, I have a hard time believing he even has a heart, but I need an excuse to get away from Bennett and his pissed-off state. It’s no way to spend his birthday, but apparently, he doesn’t care.

Approaching Aspen and Fenn, I grin and put my hands on my hips. “Are we playing kickball or mud wrestling because you moving those slides eight million times is only getting them dirty.”

Aspen snatches the vinyl slide from Fenn’s hands and grins. “Boys are as efficient as waxing with masking tape.”

I grin, just as Fenn snatches the slide back and slings it down on the ground and kicks it away from us. “And girls are petty as fuck.” He gives the slide one more farewell kick and takes a deep breath. “Stop fucking torturing him and go change, Aspen. Staying out here and ‘helping’ me is just making this party tense as fuck.”

I shrug when Aspen looks at me and rolls her eyes. Fenn is right; Aspen and Bennett arguing or not speaking makes everything and everyone around them stressed. But I get her side too. She should be able to wear what she wants to wear.

“Let’s just drop it,” I tell them. “It’s his birthday. Let’s get this all set up before people start arriving.”

The birthday comment seems to sober the siblings, and they both nod, Aspen’s gaze flicking back to Bennett, just once, before she leans down and picks up the slide and begins straightening it out.

I grab an end when Drew comes to the back door and shouts, “Vee! Your phone is buzzing.”

“Who’s Demon Douche?”

I feel my cheeks go hot.

Fuck.

I dart over and snatch the phone from Drew’s hand and smile. “Lab partner,” I lie. “A real jerk.”

Drew shrugs and goes back inside, without asking anymore questions, which is good.

Exhaling, I swipe the screen and read the text.

Demon Douche: Will they just fuck already? Even I have blue balls from watching them.

I lift my gaze just in time to see Mr. Ugly Shorts lounging on his back patio with a drink in his hand.

Me: Some of us have something called morals. You should google it sometime.

I see a grin creep onto his face. He loves getting to me.

Demon Douche: You of all people should not be surfing the morality board, Ms. I Lie On The Daily.

It’s a shot to the heart. One I deserve, but nevertheless, it still stings for all of about 2.5 seconds when I realize what he’s sitting in.

Me: That’s my chair, asshole!

This man is seriously sitting in my patio chair with me right here. The nerve!

Demon Douche: What? You’re seeing things. Pam let me borrow this—

He sends the rolling its eyes emoji.

Demon Douche: —last Sunday. Stop trying to cause neighborhood drama, Valentina.

I swear to G—My fingers fly over the keyboard.

Me: You’re the liar, Sebastian Carrington!

He eases back into my wicker chair.

Demon Douche: Sucks, doesn’t it, bro?

Don’t scream. If you scream, Fenn and Bennett will demand to know what’s going on and that can never happen.

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