Page 423 of Hell Hath No Fury
No more lighthearted jokes or harmless teasing.
No lingering looks that caused my imagination to spark and wonder if he could ever feel the same way about me.
All that was left from our time together, was this huge gaping hole in my chest.
My father, the man I loved most in the world, had passed away, but in my grief, I mourned him and my broken heart in equal measure. And in my shame, I never told anyone. Not even Sierra.
So the next time Owen came back into my life in high school, I promised myself he’d never get the best of me again. It wasn’t very hard to do. By then I was already initiated and fully committed to my family’s legacy, which meant I had started to build a wall around me. One that was so high that I was sure no one would ever venture climbing it.
What could Owen Turner possibly ever do to me with such a fortress in his way?
I ignored him completely, or as much as a boy like him allows to be ignored. Unfortunately, rumors of his rebellious days and even wilder nights would end up reaching me anyway, whether I wanted them to or not. Each time someone would whisper in my ear about Owen’s latest conquest, I couldn’t help it as my cold heart chipped away a little more. By the end of our senior year in high school, there was nothing left of it, only pure dislike for the boy I once thought was my first love. So much so that when we both started college the following year, he became a total blip on my radar, only popping up every once in a while, when he would open his mouth in class to act the fool.
Because that’s exactly who he is to me now—just another overprivileged jackass who only cares about himself, and no one else.
And I for one have no time or space in my life for such a man.
So to have my own mother matchmake this date for me tonight, feels like a joke, and not the kind I find funny.
“Col! Did you hear me at all?” Sierra barges on, pulling at my hand to get my full attention.
“What?” I retort absent-mindedly, trying to push away the fog my troublous thoughts have created.
“Pay attention, will you?” she insists impatiently. “Tell me if you know who that is?” she demands, her gaze falling to the crowd of people standing in the large oval hall.
“Who are you talking about?”
“Are you blind, Col?! Him! I’m talking about him. Who is he?” She discreetly points to one of the busboys walking around the room with a tray of hors d’oeuvre in his hand.
I squint my eyes, since the boy she’s talking about is on the other side of the room. But when the crowd clears a smidge, I’m able to see who my sister is so enthusiastic about.
“Oh, him. If I’m not mistaken, his name is Montgomery Ryland. He’s one of the scholarship kids at my school.” I shrug. “What about him?”
“What about him?” My sister’s eyes widen incredulously. “Look at him? He’s absolutely stunning.”
I almost roll my eyes at her.
Stunning.
No man merits such a description.
Well, maybe one, but we already concluded that he’s the world’s biggest jackass, Colleen, so move on.
“Hmm,” I hum noncommittedly.
“Hmm? Is that all you have to say? Hmm?” she pouts, crossing her arms over her chest.
“What else is there to say?”
“Oh, I don’t know? How about telling your sister that you’re going to school with that! A total Adonis!”
“That Adonis, as you put it, is too old for you. He’s a junior in college, and you, sweet sister, are a junior in high school. I repeat,high school.”
“Age is nothing but a number. I never took you for an ageist. A cold prude, maybe. Ageist, no.”
Her callous words sting me, but I don’t let it show. Especially since I’m used to Sierra quickly lashing out when she doesn’t get her way. It’s just another temper tantrum. It will fade when she loses interest. Like she does with most things in her life.
“And I’m not. Besides, you’re using that word wrong. To be an ageist means that I’m prejudice or discriminating against aparticular age group, like the elderly for example. How can I be an ageist when Montgomery is my age? That would mean that I’m prejudiced against my own age group, wouldn't it?”
