Page 3 of The Pretender

I lean my head to the side, swiping the sweat from my forehead. “We were. It’s been two months since our last prank.” She’s my best friend. I may not be able to tell her the whole truth, but I can throw her some crumbs to satisfy my guilt and curb her curiosity. “I don’t know what triggered him to steal our chair this morning. He was probably drunk.” Now that I think about it, that’s probably the case.

“Have you considered Sebastian might not have been the one who took it?”

Ha! She has no idea the crap Sebastian and I will do to get one over on each other.

“He stole it, Asp. I have no doubt.”

The question is, why?

“If you say so.”

She starts scanning her phone, and for a minute, fear creeps in. “You’re not posting this are you?”

Aspen looks at me as if I’m that crazy girl that posts videos of her birds picking food out of her teeth. “Of course not. I’m not Miss Social Media Celebrity. I’m asking Fenn if they cooked dinner. All this criminal activity is making me hungry.”

Whew. She’s just texting her brother, who lives across from us. I don’t know why I even worried about her posting. It’s not like I don’t post every day, but I’m on a reality cleanse right now. Instead of posting clips of the pranks Sebastian and I play on each other, like I used to, I’ve gone back to my roots and only post ‘how-to’ videos for special effects makeup.

If someone were to post me pranking or having anything to do with Sebastian right now, it would go viral and then we’d be forced back together and that could get really awkward since the last time I saw him, he declared war. Yeah, we didn’t end our relationship with a high-five and a smile.

I shrug, pulling my focus back to the lock. “Oh good. I could eat too.”

“We’ll go over there when we’re finished. I’m sure Drew cooked up something good.” Mmm… I bet he did. Drew and his brother, Bennett, are Aspen’s brother’s roommates. We all grew up together in the same neighborhood. Our parents are such close friends that we refer to Drew and Bennett’s mom and dad as our aunt and uncle.

“Got it!” I almost jump up and down when the lock finally turns to Bash-hole’s townhouse.

“Took you long enough,” Aspen says, pushing me forward and through Sebastian’s back door.

“You’re just used to me picking the door to our townhouse,” I murmur. “It’s easier than his.” We forget our keys a lot. My dad keeps threatening to have one of those electronic keypads installed, but then I wouldn’t have the practice of picking locks. I think we can all say that particular skill came in quite handy just now.

Aspen flips a switch and Sebastian’s sin pad comes to life. “We’re looking for that wicker chair you sit in and watch those horror movies, right?”

“Yep, that’s the one.” I head for Sebastian’s bedroom. I know, it’s not on my bucket list to see either, but at a quick glance, I don’t see my chair in his living room. He had to have stashed it somewhere more hidden. “You check in here. I’ll check the hazardous rooms.”

Aspen doesn’t need to suffer for my mistakes. This is my war, and if anyone is going to have a limb rot off by catching something in this cesspool, it’s going to be me.

I dart off, eager to get the hell out of here and back to my room where a low budget horror film awaits me. I know, sounds like a great time for a college freshman, but when you pair it with butter and a side of popcorn, it’s not too shabby for a Friday night.

I’m not one of those college girls who need constant attention or even a date night every weekend. I’m the girl who would rather spend her evenings at the K9 shelter with the rescued service dogs and making “tough guys” cry at the pool hall.

You can imagine how proud my mother is. I take that back, she’s proud. She’d just like it if I, occasionally, wore something other than flannel shirts and Doc Martens boots to holiday gatherings. But I’m not interested in shoes that make my ass look bigger for a man’s viewing pleasure.

I close my eyes and hold my breath because, let’s be real, this is Sebastian we’re dealing with. I’m liable to be scarred for a lifetime. Slowly, I open the door to Sebastian’s bedroom. Believe it or not, I’ve been in here before, but it’s been a while and things could have changed. Sebastian used to keep his room tidy—I know, shocked me too—but apparently, not anymore. His film books and journals are scattered across the floor next to the bed, which doesn’t make sense because he normally keeps them in the bookcase.

I snag one of the balled-up pieces of notebook paper, unfolding it slowly, in case something springs out of it. (I’ve watched a lot of horror movies, okay?) On the paper is a bunch of stats for his MyView page—the page we both became stars on. His follows and likes have taken a dramatic hit these past two months, since we haven’t been pulling pranks on each other.

My stomach clenches as the guilt gnaws at me.

He told me not to be sorry for besting him, and I have to hope that he truly meant what he said.

Tossing the first piece back onto the floor, I grab another, this one is about the campus contest, UniCamFlix. The producers of the hottest reality show on MyView are hosting an open call for all future filmmakers, actors, producers, etc. I entered last week, hoping that my special effects makeup videos will be considered. The flyer says anyone in the film industry is eligible, but sometimes, they don’t post the fine print.

But I didn’t know that Sebastian was entering too. I mean, I should have guessed, since he’s all about that reality life, but he’s been quiet since our last encounter, so I figured he settled down a bit. I know his parents are pushing business school, which he’s passing, but hates.

I toss the loose-leaf paper down and get back to what I came here for—my chair. I glance around the room and don’t see the pretty white wicker lounger my dad bought when I moved in with Aspen.

“Asp?” I holler out. “You find it?”

I hear paper crinkling. “No. But his refrigerator is stupid stocked.”

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