Page 99 of Devils' Day Party
“You didn't leave?” I ask, not sure why I'm questioning my good fortune, but doing it anyway. If I can get close enough, I'm going to slap his ass, too.
“Why did you upload that video?” he asks, blinking too long lashes at me. Calix reaches up and takes the crown of thorns from his head, tossing it over the railing of the bridge and into the water. Somehow, that only makes him look even more regal, like he's beyond something as earthly as a crown.
“Because, Calix,” I start, knowing he's never going to believe me now. Protest is futile. “I like you, and I just … wanted you to like me back.”
He stares at me for a long moment and then scrubs both of his hands down his face.
It's as if … Raz was jealous of Calix all this time. Barron was judging me. And Calix cared too much what other people thought.
I drop my gaze to the wood beams beneath my feet, the lake sparkling beneath them, then glance back up to find Calix watching me.
“I'm pretty sure Pearl is dead because of me,” Calix says, dropping his arms to his sides.
“Why would you think that?” I ask, and he just smiles bemusedly.
“I suppose it doesn't matter either way,” he scoffs, shaking his head like he's going to turn away from this entire conversation.
“Maybe you think it matters?” I ask, taking another few steps closer. Calix ignores me and turns back to the Aston Martin, opening the driver's side door before glancing back at me.
“If you don't want to be left behind, get in.” And then he slips inside and slams the door behind him, leaving me little choice but to scramble over to the passenger side. There's no doubt in my mind that he really would take off and leave me out here.
Another yawn escapes me as I plop my wet ass onto the leather seat, hooking my seat belt as Calix curls his hands around the steering wheel and stares out the window at the trees surrounding the lake. It's funny to me, how his parents think sending him off to Crescent Prep with a three-hundred-thousand-dollar car is considered punishment. I've never seen any of my fellow students hurting for spending money either. Even Luke's parents send enough to keep her in fabric and paint for her projects plus plenty of cash to take us out to the diner twice a week.
“Do you want to go eat breakfast somewhere?” I ask, shivering a bit in my wet clothes. Calix glances my way, but I'm already one step ahead of him. “Somewhere that nobody will recognize us. Mud Street Café in Eureka Springs is always a hit with my family.”
Calix turns back to the front, putting the car in first, and peeling out as he sends the Rapide flying down the bridge. A small shriek of surprise escapes me as he whips us around the corner.
“This baby corners like it's on rails,” I choke out as I find myself plastered to the seat. Calix is going fast, way too fast really, but I roll my window down anyway, the wind whipping my purple hair into a wet tangle.
“My mother loves that movie,” Calix says after a few minutes, slowing down a bit as we near Eureka Springs. The small-town cops around here are anti-Crescent Prep. They really don't like rich kids being thrown into their neck of the woods to cause trouble, and none of the parents of the students seem keen on paying off local law enforcement like they probably did back home. I figure it makes them feel like they're sending their kids off for some real punishment, but then, a speeding ticket has never broken any of their backs, now has it?
“Pretty Woman?” I reply, surprised that Calix even got my reference. It's a little weird, thinking of Julia Roberts and her character's rich benefactor with his fancy car. Too close for comfort, although my body is most definitely not for sale.
“That's the one.” We slow down even more as we come up behind a van with a New Hampshire license plate. Several cars are heading down the opposite side of the road, leaving us zero room to pass. “Have you ever sat down to watch it? Or just heard that line in passing?” Before I question myself, I slip my wet t-shirt over my head, followed by my wet bra.
Calix says nothing, but his dark eyes do flick my way briefly, taking in the hard pink points of my nipples. He's seen all this before, so even though my cheeks are burning, and my body's flushing with heat, I pretend like his stare doesn't matter.
It does.
I'm such a fucking liar.
I yank the baggy hoodie over my head, glancing down at the Burberry Preparatory Academy logo on the front—a pair of griffins holding a shield—and cock a brow. Calix never attended Burberry; the only high school he's ever attended is Crescent Prep. I know because he's been there since my first day, climbing out of a red sportscar and staring up at the Tudor-style building with a scowl before he dropped his gaze and found mine.
