Page 14 of Your Worst Fear
The way he spit the word had my fingers itching to reach for the knife in my boot to defend all of plant-kind.
Instead, I whipped out my phone from where it was tucked in the top of my stocking. He didn’t so much as track my movements, which meant he wasn’t scared of me.
He should be.
I pulled up the plant-seller site I scrolled too often, where people could bid on specific plants, and slid out of Henley’s arms, crossing into dangerous territory. I could feel Henley’s stare burning holes into my back, probablypissed I’d left his side. Shoving the phone into Gel Idiot’s face, I slowly scrolled down the page.
With each listing that passed, his eyelids inched open a little farther.
He said nothing, and once I was certain the point had been made, I put my phone back. My chin inched up in an attempt to look more intimidating, despite him being taller than me. Then I turned and crossed back to Henley.
When I was within Henley’s reach, Gel Lover decided to open his dumbass mouth. “Women are fucking idiots for spending that much on some stupid fucking plants.”
I stopped, nostrils flaring at the surge of anger in my veins.
Henley must’ve noticed I was having not-so-innocent thoughts, as he reached forward, grabbed my hand, and tugged me to his side. His arm around my shoulders held me hostage, my rage simmering beneath the surface.
His lips pressed into the side of my head, and he murmured so only I could hear, “You can’t stab him right here.”
“Who said I was going to stab him?” I muttered, my hushed tone strained. One time, I’d fed someone the fruit of one of my monsteras. While not deadly, the unripened fruit had caused him extreme swelling of his throat and mouth, and had felt more like chewing tiny needles than a typical fruit. Then, I’d stabbed him.
Sometimes I liked the dramatics.
“I can see the little killer in you begging to come out,” Henley replied.
It wasn’t the killer part that had my vision going cloudy for a moment. It was the fact that he said hesawme.
Murderous desires shoved aside, that fact had a little flare of hope fluttering to life inside me. Maybe I wasn’t lost to the world after all.
“What’ll it be?” Henley asked, raising his voice so Gel Man could hear him. Meanwhile, I was still lost in what Henley had said.
“Cash, and the plant.”
I forced myself to focus and rolled my eyes. I’d argue, but it’d be pointless. He clearly believed me to some degree if he still wanted the damn thing.
“And what if we win?” I questioned, crossing my arms and jutting my hip out.
He stuck a cigar in his mouth, mumbling the next words. “Whatever it’s worth.”
I held back my snort, watching as he racked the balls.
“If people can smoke in here, why do you step outside to smoke?” I asked, ignoring Gel Man as I faced Henley.
“I was taught that’s where you smoke,” he answered. “Never inside.”
My forehead creased. “By who?”
“My mother.”
He moved away from me, but I asked anyway, “Is she…?”
His lips rolled as he glanced at his boots. “Died when I was thirteen.”
My eyes widened. “You’ve been smoking since you were thirteen?”
“Eleven,” he corrected. “She ingrained the habit in me on one of her visits.” With no further explanation, he left to get his cue and begin the game.
I watched him bend over that table far too many timesas he took his turns, ignoring my curiosity about his past and focusing instead on the present.
