I still my power-stirring and arch an eyebrow at her. “I’m not concerned about the amount of lumps.”
“Yeah,” she mutters on a sigh, shoulders slumping, “I didn’t think so.”
Once the batter is mixed to my satisfaction, I open the box of laxatives. They resemble little squares of chocolate. I pop all twenty-four pieces from the foil packet, break them into smaller chunks and add them in.
“Oh my God,” Olivia murmurs, shaking her head with a frown. “Please tell me that you’re not going to add the entire box.”
“I’m adding the entire box.” I confirm flatly, tossing in the final bits.
Her eyes widen and fill with concern. “Do you have any idea what that kind of stimulant can do to someone’s system?”
A sinister smile curves my lips. “Actually, I knowexactlywhat it’s supposed to do. Once the laxatives kick in, Carter will shit his pants for days.”
“This has disaster written all over it.” Olivia scrubs a hand over her face. “You realize that, don’t you?”
I shrug and blend my concoction. “You’re being dramatic.” It’s laxatives. It won’t kill him. As far as I’m concerned, he’s lucky I’m letting him off so easily.
“I don’t think so,” she mumbles.
I grease a square Teflon pan and pour the thick, chocolaty batter into it, spreading it out evenly until all four corners have been filled. Then I scrape the inside of the glass bowl until it’s wiped clean.
I chuckle gleefully. “Wouldn’t want to miss any, now would we?”
Olivia doesn’t say a word. Yeah, I get her silent condemnation. Lucky for me, I’m able to easily brush it aside.
I place the tray on the middle rack in the oven and set a timer before going back to the counter and picking up the glass bowl and spatula. With a smirk, I glance at Olivia. “I’d offer to let you lick the spatula, but I wouldn’t recommend it.” After pausing a moment, I add, “Unless you’re feeling constipated.”
The way she shakes her head and throws up a hand as if to ward me off is almost comical. “I’ll pass.”
I shrug and set the bowl and utensil in the sink. I wash both and take a seat next to her on the other side of the counter. “I feel your judgy eyes watching me.”
She sighs and scrunches up her face as if solving a difficult math problem. “What’s with you two?”
I frown and flick an imaginary piece of lint off my shirt. “What do you mean?” Just thinking about Carter fills me with irritation. It’s always been like this between us, and it’s never going to change.
She gives me her bestoh, please, you’re not fooling anyonelook. “What’s with you and Carter?” Olivia rolls her blue eyes. “Why are you constantly at each other’s throats? Can’t you guys just get along?”
No, apparently, that’s not possible. Lord knows I’ve tried. Nothing works.
“He’s a conceited jerk who needs to be put in his place. And this,” I nod toward the oven, “is going to do the trick.”
With one elbow resting on the counter, she slides her fingers into her hair and gives me a penetrating stare. “You two act like toddlers. Isn’t it exhausting to pour so much time and energy into getting back at each other?”
Her criticism makes me feel defensive. I fold my arms across my chest. “Nope, not at all. Plus, it allows me to funnel my creative energies into a constructive outlet.”
She takes a sip from her bottle of water. “You realize this will only escalate this situation, right?”
“What I know,” I correct, “is that once Carter craps his pants—God willing, out on the football field in front of the entire team—he’ll realize that he shouldn’t mess with me anymore.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Do you seriously think that’s how this is going to play out?”
“Yup.” How can anything go wrong? This plan is foolproof.
“What happened between you two?” Olivia asks. “How did all this start in the first place?”
My mind tumbles back to freshman year. Even though Noah’s parents live close enough for us to commute to school, Marnie and Craig thought it was important that we live on campus to get the full college experience. Noah roomed with Carter. And I would pop over all the time.
I didn’t have a problem with Carter right off the bat. When we first met, I thought he was sort of good-looking. Fine, I thought he was hot.
