Page 18 of Velvet Thorns
“You forgot your costume,” I say, gesturing toward his all-black getup and complete lack of effort.
He finally turns his head, just enough for our eyes to meet. "Not really my thing."
“You’re not a drinker either?”
He shakes his head, the corners of his mouth pulling tight. “No, it makes people reckless and do dumb shit they'll regret.”
“All the more reason to drink,” I shoot back, noticing the way his eyes narrow like he’s trying to read something behind my mask, something he should recognize but doesn’t.
“You look familiar, but I can’t…” His brow furrows with the effort of trying to place me. “I can’t figure out where I know you from.”
“Like I said—different circles.”
He studies me, head tilting in that way that used to make my heart skip. “Is your circle here tonight?”
“I haven’t been here long, so I haven’t looked yet.” If by circle he means ghosts, sure. Because I didn’t have a single friend in that hellhole after him. “What about you? I bet you’re the type who kept all his high school buddies. Group chats, beer nights, and all that nostalgic bullshit.”
“Nah,” he mutters. “Didn’t have anyone worth keeping. No one I wanted to take with me.”
Motherfucker.
“High school friendships are fake as shit. It’s all just convenience.”
I keep my expression neutral, but inside, something violent tears through my chest because Phoenix was never just convenient.
Iwas the one who knew all his fucking secrets.Iwas the girl he spent every free moment with.
Fake as shit… how dare he? What an absolute pissgremlin.
“Although, I had a friend once. She… Well, she left before school ended. I doubt she’d show up to something like this, considering she didn’t exactly have friends here.”
And that’s the final nail. Because that invisible nobody he never fought for is sitting two inches away from him, and he doesn’t even know it.
“Probably for the best, considering most of the school was an asshole in one way or another,” I say, and he laughs like it’s all just some harmless story, but all I want to do is reach over and claw his fucking eyes out. Not because he’s wrong—he’s not. But because he’s laughing about it, and he doesn’t carry even a fraction of theweight I’ve hauled around for years. “What did Brandon mean about Ava?”
“What about her?”
“The throne and wheels thing.”
“Oh,” he says, shrugging like it’s nothing. “She’s in a wheelchair.”
“She’s in a wheelchair?” I echo, widening my eyes because I didn’t know. I turn my face away for a second to make sure my mask is still sitting right and that my contacts haven’t shifted.
“Yeah, she had some sort of freak accident in college. I don’t know what exactly happened.”
How tragic.
Not.
How fucking deserved.
I know how that sounds, and I don’t care. Ava fed on my pain like a parasite and did it with a smile on her face.
“Shame,” I murmur loud enough for him to hear. “She was so nice.”
“I take it you weren’t a cheerleader then?” he asks, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Absolutely not.”
