Page 1 of The Tangle of Awful

Aubrey

There’s only one person in the entire world I hate.

Spencer Park.

He’s vile. A monster. Awful.

I vowed two years ago I’d never look at or speak to him again. It was a promise I’d been able to keep until recently.

And, because of my mother, I’m once again going to be subjected to the misery he creates. This time, not because I’m being forced to but by choice.

I’m choosing this for myself.

I don’t suddenly like Spencer. Far from it. I just know something is going on with Mom and I will get to the bottom of it.

“Here?” the Uber driver asks as he slows to a stop in front of the massive structure I once called home.

“This is it,” I say with a shaky sigh. “Thanks.”

I climb out, pull on my backpack, and grab my overstuffed suitcase before slamming the car door shut. The home looms over me, cold and mocking. Every single detail of this house screams money. From the perfectly trimmed hedges and yard to the shiny black luxury vehicle in the driveway.

And then there’s me.

The leech.

At least, that’s what he took to calling me seemingly out of the blue. One day, we were friends and the next, everything was ruined.

Old memories of Spencer’s cruelty simmer to the surface of my mind, but I don’t let them consume me. I’m no longer the sixteen-year-old girl I once was. I’ve changed. I’m stronger, smarter, and a freaking adult. Spencer Park holds no power over me.

I’m back now and I refuse to let him get to me.

Slowly, I wheel my dented suitcase up the front walkway toward the pristine charcoal gray door that will welcome me into a cold hell. My hands slightly shake as I reach it. Since Spencer used to always steal my house key, I kept one hidden outside. Leaving my suitcase, I walk over to the gutter spout at the corner of the house. I crouch in front of it and lift the biggest of the smooth stones on the ground in front of it.

The key is there.

My stomach twists.

It’s all wrong. The metal teeth no longer sharp and jagged. It’s as if it’s been melted smooth. Words have been carved into the metal.

Not welcome, leech.

I curl the useless key into my palm and rise to my feet. He may have intimidated me two years ago, but I’m no longer that girl. I’ve been living in Los Angeles with Dad ever since I left, going to school with a whole bunch of assholes rather than just one. I’ve learned how to survive.

With newfound fury burning up inside of me, I storm back over to the front door. Of course, when I try the knob, it’s locked. I beat my fist on the solid door, anger churning in my gut.

No answer.

I glare up at the camera pointed at the stoop and flip it off. If I know Spencer, I know he always has to have the last word.

As predicted, the snap of the deadbolt unengaging echoes its way through my bones. Gritting my teeth together, I lift my chin, preparing to face off with my enemy. The door swings open and his familiar scent—expensive cologne he’s worn probably since birth—swirls around me.

Spencer steps out. Taller than I remember. Stronger, too. Every single part of him perfect as usual. His dark hair is styled a little differently—less boyish and something more manly. The eyes, though, bright blue and intelligent, are icier than ever. Two windows into an arctic hellish soul. It’s his mouth that sends a chill down my spine. A cruel slant of a smile, probably charming to most, but sinister to those who truly know him.

“Hello, brother,” I say in a tone dripping with acid. “Seems my key stopped working.”

I toss the key onto the cement and it clatters between us.

His dark eyebrow lifts, unimpressed with my attitude toward him. Newsflash, buddy, I’m not that girl you ran off once before. He doesn’t answer, instead perusing his gaze up and down my body, lingering on my chest. Since the material of my shirt is thin, I know he can see through it, judging my old black Walmart bra and nipples that are hard from the coldness rippling from the open front door where the icy asshole looms.

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