Page 89 of Positively Pricked
Chapter 30
I whirled around and came face-to-face with Paisley, who was wearing an annoyingly familiar black dress – mine, in fact. Her eyes were wild, and she was trembling with apparent rage.
She practically spat in my face. "You bitch!"
I drew back. "What?"
"Iknewyou liked him!"
Obviously, she meant the professor. But she was crazy. I didn't like him. I barely knew him, and I wanted to keep it that way.
In the calmest voice I could muster, I said, "Sorry, but you've got it all wrong."
Her gaze zoomed in on the flowers, and she gave a snort of disbelief. "Do I?"
I looked down at the flower arrangement still clutched in my hand. My fingers were tight around the neck of the vase, and for the briefest instant, I wanted to hurl the whole thing, vase and all, straight at the professor. Or cripes, even onto the floor.
Instead, I thrust the flowers out in Paisley's direction and said, "If you want them, you can have them."
She eyed the flowers with obvious disgust. "I don't want them. They're used."
Behind me, the professor mumbled, "They are not. I got them an hour ago."
God, what a dumb-ass.I turned toward him and said, "You know what? Why don't you and Paisley go out to lunch and settle this like adults?"
Behind me, Paisley demanded, "What are you saying? That I'm immature?"
Oh, for crying out loud.Once again, I turned to face her. "I'm not saying anything. I just think the two of you need to settle this somewhere else."
"Oh suuuure," Paisley sneered, "you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, actually." I glanced toward the professor. "And besides, your boyfriend was just leaving."
Paisley gave a little sniff. "That's right.Myboyfriend, not yours."
I muttered, "Thank God."
Her gaze narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." Or least, nothing I wanted to discuss here.
At work.
In front of an audience.
I was still holding the door, and I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if I just let it go. Would it smack Paisley in the face? And if so, would it knock any sense into her?
Her beloved professor was a cheater and a creep. Whatever Paisley was feeling, he wasn't worth it – not thatshewas any prize herself.
I snuck a quick glance at Carla. She'd given up on pretending not to notice and was now watching the theatrics with obvious concern. I could totally relate. I was getting pretty concerned myself.
So far, I'd been incredibly lucky that Carla was the only person witnessing this spectacle. But my luck couldn't last forever.
I gave the professor a pleading look. "You said you wanted Chinese, right? Well, Paisley loves Chinese."
"I do not!" Paisley said.
Liar.Just last week, I'd splurged on Chinese takeout on my way home from work. After walking in through the front door, I'd set the takeout on the kitchen table, and dashed into my bedroom to change. Five minutes later, I'd returned to find the food mostly gone – into Paisley's mouth.
