Page 22 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
“You know what?” I say, pointing at Lemon in that way that she hates. She says I look just like my grandmother when I do it, but you know what? My grandma is the bravest, strongest, most incredible woman I’ve ever met. She grew up on reservation land with her grandparents, took care of her sick grandmother and forfeited a full ride scholarship to college when it was much harder for girls to get in at all.
So if I look like her, so what? It’d be better than whatever it is I’m becoming now.
“What?” Lemon challenges, standing up from the table to stare me down. Or … up. As I said, I tower over her. I take advantage of that in my anger.
“I’m getting sick and fucking tired of dealing with you and all of the stupid decisions you make.” I grind my teeth together to keep the barrage of other horrible thoughts back. People are staring at us, and I have to maintain my reputation.
You don’t just get to run your own crew at Prescott High without some major clout. I’ve spent the last three years earning mine, and I won’t be undermined by Lemon and her thirsty-ass cunt.
“Me?” she shouts as Nisha finally makes her way over to us. I don’t like leaving the Stingray vulnerable for Widow to steal back, but somehow, I feel like if he were here, I would know it. “You’re the one banging Bohnes in the woods!” Lem throws her hand out in the general direction of where Bohnes and I were earlier.
Great. Just fucking great.
Nisha’s eyes go wide, and she looks over at me like I’ve absolutely lost my mind.
Me … I make the biggest mistake of my life, looking up to see that Bohnes is staring at me. He’s smiling wide, like a colossal maniac. And everybody around him … has taken a step back.
“Wow. And I thought I could trust you?” I scoff as I look back in time to see Lem’s face flush. She knows she’s made a huge fucking mistake. I hold out my hand, palm up. “Give me my keys back. Now.”
“Scar,” she tries, but I’m just done with her shit. I’ve been done with her shit for a long, long time now. You always see these memes floating around everywhere like, Let toxic relationships go, blah, blah, blah and while I don’t disagree with the idea that someone can literally be so poisonous that the only recourse is to let go, there’s also something to say for loyalty and friendship.
Lemon is my friend, even if she fucks up a lot and sleeps with horrible men. It’s just a symptom of how few options are available in a neighborhood like ours. We don’t have a lot of choices; we make the best of what we’ve got.
My friend’s lived a hard life—we all have—but I can’t deal with this right now.
She’s thoroughly worn a hole through what little patience I possess.
“Give me my keys,” I repeat, my voice a low, dark slithering thing.
“Why can’t we just talk this out like we always do?” Basti is pleading as Nisha looks between me and Lemon and, in this horrible moment of clarity, I realize at the same second that Lem does which side Nisha would choose if she had to.
Mine.
It’ll always be mine.
I will always be Queen to everyone at Prescott that matters.
I almost consider withdrawing my hand and telling Lemon to forget about it, just like I always do. Even though she blew my secret about Bohnes to both Bastian and Nisha. I’m really standing there considering letting it slide when I’ve beaten the shit out of girls for much less.
Then Aspen Kelly rolls up, his window down, and gestures with his chin in the direction of the passenger side of his car. Lemon’s eyes light up and I can see that she’s going to leave with him whether I like it or not.
“If you get in that car, we will never see you again,” I warn her. The look she gives me is pure disdain. It’s a front for her hurt. She’s upset that Bastian isn’t fighting harder for her the way he normally does; even he looks exhausted. And Nisha? She’s picked her side, crossing her arms and remaining quiet. Then there’s me, standing there with my hand outstretched. “Give me the fucking keys, Lemon. You’re a waste of life.”
She throws them at my face, but I manage to catch them as she takes off for Aspen’s car, climbing in and tossing me the finger out the window as he spins out of the parking lot and splatters every last one of us in mud.
This. Motherfucker.
The next time I see him, I’m going to wipe the floor with his face.
I squeeze my hands around the keys.
“Jennifer,” I say, and she scrambles to obey, breaking away from the nearby crowd to take the keys. It’s an honor to drive the Devil. I wouldn’t normally leave it with anyone other than Basti, Nisha, or Lemon, but what choice do I have now?
