Page 36 of Enemy Crush
I jumped up off of the couch and went to the kitchen window, peering out from behind the curtain. It was all quiet across the lane. In fact, it looked like the grass had been cut since I’d been out mountain biking. An old man did the gardening forthe Devereauxs, but I hadn’t seen him around for a while. A few days ago, Dad had joked that he should report their untidy yard. Of course he wouldn’t, but it was something Mrs. Devereaux wouldn’t hesitate to do.
Actually, the house we lived in had once belonged to the Ambrose Manor estate. They’d owned the whole block and apparently the gardener had lived here. That’s how rich they’d been, having a cottage for the gardener and stables for horses and there were probably servants quarters in that big old house. I imagined it had a majestic sweeping stairway, high ornate ceilings, crystal chandeliers and plush carpets.
My attention fell to our front yard, the lawn a little long. Perhaps I could get back into the good books by mowing it before Dad and Mason came home. It was my job anyway, but to do it without any prompting would get me brownie points.
I opened the garage and pulled out the mower, a regular walk-behind one that used gas. Our yard wasn’t really big enough to justify a riding mower, but I was envious of the Devereaux’s gardener and thought it would be cool to use one. For good measure, I trimmed the edges, spending a lot of time around the front gate, my subconscious hoping to see Quinn. Just to confirm the twins’ story, and then thank her for helping Mason. That was the least I could do, enemy or not.
But as I put the mower away, I saw a black SUV making a slow approach down the lane. I dashed inside the garage, hiding out of sight, a violent thump in my chest as I recognized the familiar ski rack. A few seconds later Quinn came jogging down her driveway in a cute dress carrying a large bag. I was hit with an illogical surge of rage, my blood boiling and veins swelling as the car stopped under the archway. Was Quinn going on a date with Ronan King? And was that an overnight bag she was carrying because it was definitely bigger than a normal size purse. The passenger door closed and the car zoomed off,leaving me somewhat dazed. Unreasonably, it felt like a punch to the gut, the air sucked out of me, a bizarre feeling of total desolation.
But that was outrageous, right? There was no sense to it. Quinn Devereaux was the enemy and I was absolutely not jealous that she was on a date with Ronan King.
No way. Not jealous at all.
Chapter 13
QUINN
“Iactually don’t like art,” Blanche admitted as we drove along the freeway toward Pine Ridge. “But I’m trying to boost my college applications.”
“Same!” It felt somewhat bizarre to be traveling along the route I’d driven daily since I’d turned sixteen and gotten my own car. It now seemed an age ago.
“Art Club was the easiest thing to do because soon I’ll be on the slopes 24/7,” Blanche said. “And Mrs. Burbank is so chill.”
“I think we’re doing a pretty good job,” I said.
“Heck, it’s getting hot,” Blanche said, half looking down at the multimedia screen. “How’s the AC work in here?”
I reached across, tapping the climate control buttons, very similar to my car, my old car that is.
“This is Ronan’s car,” she said in explanation. “Mine is in the shop. Luckily he let me borrow it.”
“Oh,” I said. “Ronan’s nice.” Ronan King had spoken to me on my first day at Snow Ridge High and we shared a couple of classes. He’d suggested hanging out some time, giving off more than just a friend vibe, but I’d played the ‘let me settle in first’ card and tried to avoid him. But maybe he’d moved on already. “Are you guys dating?”
“No!” she practically shouted. “Heck, no! Ronan is a friend.” She repeated the word with extra emphasis in case I didn’t know the definition. “Friend.We ski together. Have for years.”
“Oh, my bad,” I said.
“Uh, um,” she said, pausing but it seemed like she had more to say. “Um, we kinda dated once in sophomore year, but it didn’t work out.”
“Kinda dated?” I teased, full of curiosity.
“Uh, yeah,” Blanche said, “let’s just say it didn’t go so great. So believe me when I say I couldn’t think of him in that way.” She fake shivered. “We’re better as friends.”
“A shame,” I said. “He’s kinda cute.”
“You want me to set you up?” The words couldn’t have spewed out of her mouth any faster.
“No!” Now I was the one shouting. “No. Thank you, but no,” I added firmly.
“There’s someone else?” Blanche took her eyes off of the road as she glanced across at me.
Strangely, a vision of Miller Trask on his motorbike flashed inside my mind, that time I’d been delusional and thought he was...mildly attractive.
“Um...absolutely not,” I said.
“You hesitated,” Blanche said.
“Excuse me?”
