Page 82 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
Dude, Jillian about to race for some Louboutins—only worn once! Farrah stole them from that shop downtown and almost got caught. LOL. She gonna be pissed if she loses!
She won’t lose—not to Jill. No way.
So you say until you realize how much she wants those damn heels.
With a scoff, I toss my phone onto the side table next to the sofa and refocus on the movie. Boring. Just the usual stuff. No Widow, no Bohnes, no Aspen Kelly … No Lemon.
I consider texting her yet again because I’m so damn worried about her, but Bastian, at least, has been able to keep in contact with her without risking his reputation, and he says she’s fine. Better than fine. Great, actually. Aspen is so good to her, he says. He wines and dines her and lets her sleep in his bed after fucking her brains out.
Disgusting.
It’s all a game. What sort of game, I don’t know. Rich people play similar games to poor people, they just do it with an extra dash of panache and these absurd superiority complexes that ruffle my feathers like nothing else.
What was it that Aspen said at Bohnes’ party last week? That the mayor had ‘plans’ for Lemon? What fucking plans? And he knows her real name now? Did she give it to him, or did he have one of his family’s goons sleuth it out?
I dig around in the candy bowl, looking for more chocolate to sate my sugar addiction when I realize that Alexis and I have eaten it all. She looks over at me and then down at the bowl. Every once in a while, I get a glimpse of hope, some flicker that says my sister is still in there somewhere, and then she goes off on one rant or another.
Last night, she told me the reason the world’s fish are dying in such large numbers is because of particles in the water. She just kept saying that over and over again, about particles. I think she likes the word because it sounds smart, but in reality, she has no idea what she’s talking about.
The week before last, it was global warming she was on about, telling me how the moon has shifted position and that’s the cause of all the unusual weather patterns. She explained how she contacted NASA to let them know, but that they hadn’t replied to her yet.
Tonight, she seems okay.
“How’s your boyfriend?” she asks me, taking the remote and turning the TV down several clicks. “Kellin Bohnes.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I explain, even though I literally just fucked him and then encouraged him to keep stalking me? I’m as nuts as Lemon, apparently. As stupid for boys. The only difference between us is this: I can handle someone like Bohnes.
She cannot handle anyone except for herself—especially not men that are rich and entitled and sick like Aspen Kelly.
But that kiss, that fucking kiss … and why does he smell so good sometimes and so cloying at others? Why do I look into his eyes and wonder one day if I should kill him, and then wonder if I shouldn’t fuck him the next?
Anyway, I can handle Bohnes, and I can handle Widow. I can certainly handle Aspen Kelly. Lemon is weak and cares too much what men think, wagers too much of herself on their opinions or their hatred or their wants and needs, forgoing her own entirely.
A knock on the door gives us both pause, and I rise to my feet, hefting my knife into my hand as I peep out the curtains to see who it is.
It’s Aspen fucking Kelly standing on my front porch and holding a cardboard box.
“What the actual fuck?” I breathe, taking the chain off and yanking the door open. I make no move to hide the knife in my hand. “You better have a damn good reason for showing up at my house in the middle of the night.”
“It’s eight p.m.,” he says, as if that excuses his creepy behavior.
I lean my shoulder against the doorjamb, crossing my arms—still holding the knife though. Alexis gets up to peer outside, and I glance back to see that she’s just as star-crossed as Lemon. Did I mention that my sister also has terrible taste in men? Our mother, too. Nobody quite as bad as Lem, but still.
“Hi,” she says, biting her lower lip.
I give her a look.
“Give us some privacy to talk?” I ask, waggling the knife around a little to show Alexis that this guy is bad news. She stares at the blade then lifts her gaze to Aspen’s face. I turn back as he forces out a tight, strange smile. That makes her blush, and she giggles as she turns and runs up the stairs two at a time.
“You have exactly three minutes to explain to me how you found my address and also why you’re here. Starting now. Go.”
