Page 2 of Spin the Damn Bottle

CHAPTER TWO

I spend two weeks at home, and it's fine. I'm a little bored during the day, though my mother stays with me. She babbles a lot of time, but I don’t mind. Every afternoon, when they finish school, my friends pop by.

Evie, Gabrielle, Spencer, and Harper have been a constant in my life for years, and even after my uncle enrolled me in Cross and Roses, I made a point of seeing them as much as I could during weekends and holidays.

Tara and Olivia, my work buddies, pop by after their day shifts at my father’s restaurant.

I missed my old crew so badly at Cross, and now I see them almost every day. I tell myself I’m glad to have them in my life again. Truth is, I want to return to school, badly. The same school I’ve always hated and wanted to escape just in September.

Sophia’s barely talking to me, so I can’t even lie to myself by pretending I miss her. I don’t.

But I misshim.

You're mine, Nadia.

I groan in frustration. He didn’t mean it, because he would have fought more to change my mind if he did. Instead, he disappeared.

Willow Brown has either volunteered or been assigned to pass on notes and homework to me, though we don't share every class. As a scholarship kid at Cross, she can’t exactly afford to say no when the faculty ask her for a favor, so I’m guessing they made her do it. We’re friendly enough, but I can’t imagine her willingly reaching out to several of my classmates to put together all of my assignments on top of her already busy schedule. She has her own classes, several tutoring sessions, work after school, and she told me about her little brother—a toddler she and her sister take care of.

Mr. Green finally moved on from Romeo and Juliet to Wuthering Heights. I smile when I see that, guessing Cain's not impressed with another romance—though arguably, this one is even worse than the first. He protested studying “romantic crap” at the start of the year. Green might have set out to annoy him.

I shoot him a message, reading the neat, color-coded notes Willow passed along.

Me: Another kissing book! You must be delighted.

He replies almost immediately, though he must be in history class.

Cain: Green is the fucking worst. You just know that perv picks love stories so he can get girls wet when he reads that crap.

I roll my eyes.

Me: He’s a teacher.

Cain: He’s a hot blooded 23 year old male. Trust me, he gets his pecker wet.

I grimace, though objectively I have to admit that Mr. Green is far too young and attractive for a teacher. Still, I’ve never seen him do anything inappropriate in class. I wish Cain’s dirty mind hadn’t put that thought in my head, because I’ll have a hard time meeting my favorite teacher’s eyes when I get back now.

I’ve only put my phone down for a second when I get a series of notifications.

Rowan: Are you texting Cain?

Rowan: You’re totally texting Cain. He’s grinning smugly and showing his phone to Jason.

Rowan: Come on, spill. What happened with Jason???

To my surprise, three of the kings of my school have taken to texting me, most of them daily. Maverick only messaged me once, a strange one wanting to know my favorite color—paler purples, like lilac or lavender. After answering him, I asked why he cared, but I got radio silence. The guy's weird.

Rowan mostly sends me pictures of Anakin Skywalker burned to a crisp, and keeps begging me not to turn to the dark side. Cain’s my most faithful correspondent—I can count on a message every day. He sends me tons of selfies that happen to include Jason—on the football field, at parties on the lake, outside the courtyard.

I don't get any messages from Jason himself, so he must have heard me, whatever he said.

Mine. And the entire world will know it. You, first of all.

Right. What a load of bullshit. I suppose he got what he wanted from me. I'm not particularly great at sex, so he must have been bored enough to move on.

I decide I don't feel any particular way about it.

My doctor finally agrees to let me go back to school at the end of the week, only it’s the start of the holidays, so I won’t get to return for another couple of weeks. At least my mother is less freaked, so I can go to the Christmas market, have brunch with Uncle Lucius and Lucas, and go ice skating in the park. Which is a terrible idea, really. I fall and my sore body aches so much I almost pass out, but I don’t tell anyone about my pain level hiking up to an eleven out of ten, lest they lock me up for another month.