“Fine.”
“Yay,” Molly squealed and drew me in for a hug. I knew she was giving Storm the thumbs up over my shoulder.
I would give the bitch one last chance.
As we approached the car, warning bells were going off in my head.
There was no denying that Storm was gorgeous, almost like a young Megan Fox. Even without make-up, she was pretty. Although that was a version you hardly ever saw, the girl usually had more powder on her nose than a coke addict. It was also pierced. I used to think it was a good job she wore a ring there, as no one with any sanity would ever put one on her finger.
Storm Summers was high-maintenance personified, but would be a great contender for a trophy wife. She had a perfect curvy body and the prettiest face, although it was usually set to scowl, and her hair was black and fell in dark waves down to her waist. Storm’s eyes were slate-gray and usually lookedthroughyou, like the girl had X-ray vision. But right then, she was looking at me—andsmiling. It was as unnerving as fuck.
I wasn’t an argumentative person as a rule, but if Phoenix was the man who pushed my buttons, Storm was the female equivalent. She used to call meruntwhen she went to our school. Rude much?
“Hi girls, get in,” she called from the car. “Hey Harper. You look… good?” Why did that sound more like a question than a compliment?
“Thanks, I guess,” I replied as Molly opened the back door for me. If she had put plastic on the seats, I would havestormedoff; no pun intended.
“Unless you want to ride shotgun?” Mols offered. Err, no thanks, I’d rather befacedwith a shotgunthan sit in the front with Storm Summers.
“Nah, I’m good,” I replied and threw my backpack onto the seat before climbing in.
As we both got into the car and put our seatbelts on, Storm stepped on the gas, and we were off.
The inside of the car was as ostentatious as the outside. The seats were pale cream leather, and the dash was a polished walnut with matching trim. It wasn’t free from clutter, though, which reflected the chaos that came with its owner. There was a gym bag in the footwell, a random pom-pom, and a guy’s letterman jacket on the seat beside me. Interesting, Storm had quit cheerleading, yet she still had a pom-pom and someone’s letterman jacket?
Storm had turned the music down slightly so we could talk, and I could feel her eyes burning through the top of my head from the rearview mirror.
“So, I’m just going to cut to the chase,” Storm began. Her voice didn’t sound as nasal as it usually did. “As Molly knows, I give pretty shitty apologies, but I’ll try my best.
Here we go.
I shuffled back into my seat and drew my gaze to meet her half reflection. I attemptednotto tell her toblow mewith my eyes.
As I opened my mouth to comment, Molly twisted in her seat and held up a hand. “Please, Harper, just listen to what Storm has to say.”
And then the verbal diarrhea started, and I welcomed it as much as the coming of the Third Reich (my last class of the day had been World History). Throughout her entire speech, I was giving her the finger from behind her seat. Yep, I had sunk into the next level of high school pettiness.
As Storm drove us home, thelong way around, she apologized for past behaviors and for treating me like I was diseased. I had to bite my lip when she spoke about not having much experience of dealing with people from ‘broken homes,’ which was ridiculous, considering that wasn’t me. My parents were still together when they died. That comment didn’t register with Molly, who was messaging on her phone.
I nodded along and kept a smile on my face, but I still felt her apology was disingenuous.
As Storm pulled up in front of my house, she turned in her seat. “I mean it, Harper. I hope we can be friends. I’m ready to start fresh if you are.” Great, put the ball in my court, then if I don’t do anything with that, I’m the bad guy. I wondered if there was anyone that Storm couldn’t manipulate, and then one person came to mind. Reed. Although she’d tried her best, she’d never had Reed Prescott in the palm of her manicured hand. My eyes flicked suspiciously towards the guy's jacket beside me.
I remember Reed roasting Storm once in the middle of the cafeteria in school last year. He’d sauntered over whilst she was in the middle of doing what she did best, talking about herself.
Micah had asked him why he was late to lunch, interrupting what Storm had been saying. Reed had replied to say that he’d just got back from thecenter of the universe, but how odd it was that he hadn’t seen Storm there.
Oh, how I had laughed from my table. The cheer captain had pretended she didn’t understand, but that was bullshit. She acted like she was stupid, but Storm Summers was terrifyingly shrewd and super intelligent. Like Phoenix, although he didn’t play the dumb card like she did, he just didn’t make the effort, full stop.
I glanced between the two girls, feeling their eyes on me as they waited for my response. Molly’s cell now sat on her lap, although that wouldn’t be for long; Mols couldn’t risk a case of Hudson withdrawal.
In a normal, sane world, Molly and Storm wouldn’t be friends. Storm had pushed Molly into the swimming pool when she first started at the Heights, but she’d still forgiven her in a heartbeat. Bearing in mind that Mols had nearly drowned, being a non-swimmer at the time.
Maybe I was the problem, with mychip on the shoulderattitude. If only I could be more like Molly, maybe my life would be easier. And maybe not. I imagined that without Hudson’s protection, people would walk all over Mols, too. That’s what usually happened to the nice girls.
Molly Miller was Hudson’s everything; you only messed with her if you had a death wish. I wondered what it would be like to be Phoenix’s everything. And yes, he was protective of me, but only when it suited him.
Having been successfully railroaded by the two calculating females in front of me, there was nothing I could do but fake-graciously accept her offer. Oh, lucky me. I had been deemed worthy by the ex-cheer captain of our school.
