Page 6 of Revenge

Part of me wanted to pretend I needed to vomit and bail the scene, but those green eyes—fuck. They found me again and kept me there.

“And who are you?” Eric asked, releasing Vivian’s hand. She and Jason glanced over their shoulders at me just long enough to remember my presence before turning back to Eric. “Like the hair. Purple’s my favorite color.”

He had that smile back on his face again, and I found my own lips mirroring his.

“Thanks.” Wow. “I’m Kathleen. Kat for short.”

What a fat fucking flirt.

“Kathleen’s my roommate,” Vivian added, twirling a finger through her hair. “We’re in Cane Hall.”

“Oh, sick. So are we,” Eric said, his eyes lighting up even more. “Which floor?”

“Fifth.”

Jason elbowed his buddy in the ribs. “So are we,” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. As much as I would’ve loved to stay, calling for an ice cream break didn’t sound like such a bad idea. So did leaving them to their threesome.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’mgonnaget some ice cream,” I said, throwing up a peace sign as I started to back away.

Just as I turned around, a heavy arm draped across my shoulders.

“Ice cream sounds good to me,” Eric said, pulling me along. “I mean, it’s anice creamsocial. Why else would we come here?”

“No other reason,” I replied.

The grin forming on my lips must’ve looked maniacal to anyone passing by. If Vivian was firing a glare at my back, I couldn’t feel it under Eric’s biceps. We stepped into line, his arm still hanging over my shoulder. His fingers started toying with a lock of my hair.

“So where are you from, Kat?” Eric asked. Thanks to Pierre, I was used to boys hanging around my neck, but this felt different. He didn’t say my name like an afterthought or a courtesy. Hesoundedit out. Savored the taste. “Let me guess. San Francisco? L.A.?”

“Raleigh.” He had my kind of sense of humor. Dry and judgmental as hell. “Right by here. You?”

“Jersey.”

“Ah.” I snickered. “The dumpster of America.”

“Whoa,” he said, pulling away from me. “According to who?”

“Everyone who’s passed through it to get to New York,” I laughed, looking up at him as he shook his head.

“Maybe they have a point.”

We were up next in line. I asked for a chocolate cone. The girl scooping my ice cream looked like a sophomore or junior. She hadn’t made eye contact with us since we’d approached—it was obvious this was a paid gig. She handed the cone over to me.

“And what would you like?” she asked Eric.

Eric leaned toward her, his arm still around my shoulders.

“What’s your favorite flavor?”

The girl blushed and smiled at him.

Everything that happened on that last day—that one, beautiful last day—came barreling back to me. I saw it happen all over, felt it happen, felthim. Elliot. I didn’t forget him. I couldn’t forget the things he did. I couldn’t.

“Strawberry,” the girl replied.

Eric winked at her—might as well have written down his number. “Strawberry it is.”

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