Page 37 of Jerk
The first sip of coffee brings warmth to my cold insides. “Thanks.” Then my body stiffens before popping off the plastic lid. “Wait, did Rye send you? Did he put something in this?” It looks like a typical cup of coffee. Brown liquid, the smell of smoky chocolate rising to my nose.
I don’t trust it.
“It’s safe, I bought it,” Ember says. “He’s really getting to you, huh?”
“No.” Moving away from her, I take a seat on the steps. “Why would you even ask that?”
Ember sits next to me. “You mean to tell me after Friday night, you, Hannah Alfonso, are just cool with what he did?”
“Did he say something?” I squeeze my eyes shut when I hear my question, the grip on my cup tightening. "Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” He still hasn’t answered me, and that shouldn’t matter either.
My breath stills.
Itdefinitelyshouldn’t matter when Rye and his fellow Crowns come into view.
My eyes fix on Rye as he runs his hand through his thick hair, shining under the sun. He doesn’t look my way, sauntering through the quad with his other hand in his pocket like he didn’t humiliate me in front of our classmates. Again. Krystal follows behind him, tapping on her phone in a Saint Laurent leather mini. She pairs it with a black crocodile beret and platform boots. All black. All expensive. Together, they look like gothic royalty. Chloe and Marisol follow behind them, all in black, too. My eyes narrow on their matching berets.
“Shit!” I don’t realize how tight I’ve gripped my cup until coffee burns my skin, spilling over the top.
Ember hands me a napkin as she laughs. Looking up at her, she looks amused, her gaze moving to the Crowns while I try to dab at my white cashmere pants.
“Hannah, it looks like you care,” Ember says. “Even Friday was?—”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” My eyes move back to the Crowns, taking their place on the fountain. Rye sports the same silk robe he wore at the party over a black tee. “He just always knows where to press and it’s always fucking sharp."
“Sharp like the glass he broke at my gallery?”
“Why are you bringing that up?” My head whips to hers, my cheeks burning.
“Does he hurt you?”
“Why?” My brows knit. “Are you worried?”
“Should I be?”
“No, he didn’t hurt me.” She’s one to talk. You should’ve seen Ember and Mac last semester. “He never actually carved into me, he just told me he could.”
“So he threatened you.”
“Not really.” My head drops to the side, my gaze moving back to his. He lights a black cigarette, and it makes me reach for one of my own. A pink one. “It’s like I knew he could hurt me. But I also knew he wouldn’t do it?” My bedazzled lighter brings me back to the night in his mom's studio. Coach’s office. Lighting up, my confused feelings tighten my chest. “He does a hell of a better job at humiliating me.”
“And? Do you like it?”
A sharpness hits my chest. “No!” My mind flicks between the broken glass, the letter opener, the scissors… the skate. My stomach spins before I take a long pull, speaking through my exhale. “I’m not like him or his friends. I don’t get off on pain. No offence.”
“None taken because you’re full of shit.” Ember leans back on her elbows, looking almost as smug as Rye and Krystal do right now. “You have thatlookin your eyes. You had that look on Friday.Andat the gallery.”
“Whatlook?”
“Like you’re replaying it in your head and you don’t hate it.”
Another puff doesn’t reduce the tightness in my jaw.
Does everyone see me this way? Does everyone know?
"I’m more focused on when my parents will let me stay at home again.” I try changing the topic. “The lake house is nice, but it feels…” Like The Crowns own it. “Weird. And the posse is no help.”
Marisol and Chloe laugh with Krystal about god-knows-what. Rye has his phone in his hand, and I hate how aware I am that he still hasn’t answered.
