My theory is proven when she takes less than a second before blinking at me, anger creasing her brows. Then, she glances at Rev, appearing suspicious and maybe a little hurt, before returning her focus to me with disbelief. Her chest is panting a little too quickly, and her eyes dilate.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she snaps.
“Am I that scary?” I ask, one corner of my lips curling with amusement.
She scoffs, puffing her chest as if it’s going to make her any less of a shrimp compared to me.
“I would never findyouscary,” she spits. Then, she swings an accusatory glare to Reverie. My muscles instantly tense, and I’m tempted to snap her neck just for looking at Rev like that. “Why did you bring him here?”
I reach into my hoodie pocket to pull out the note and curled lock of hair, presenting them to her on a splayed palm. Frowning, she looks down at the items, and then, with a cautionary glance at me, she grabsthem. Her eyes skim over the words on the note, and then she rereads it.
“What is this?” she asks, annoyance filtering into her features.
“Uhm, can we come in and explain?” Reverie asks, peering down either side of the hallway anxiously.
“No,” Roxi snips.
Reverie sighs. “Okay, fine then. I came home earlier to my room completely trashed, that note stabbed into my desk with a knife. I was getting ready to transfer schools, and the letter and the hair were next to the application. I thought it looked like your hair, so I wanted to make sure you were okay first, see if you knew whether Lionel had been around.”
“What? Lionel isn’t even in Colorado, silly. And why would I do that to you? Also, what do you mean ‘transfer schools’?” She fires off the questions one after the other, her thick brows furrowed with incredulity.
Reverie side-eyes me, her mouth open but no words coming out. She appears unsure of how much to say, waiting for my input.
I don't come to her rescue, however. I’m still pissed she even tried to transfer.
“Uh, I was c-considering studying abroad,” she stumbles awkwardly, attempting to smooth over the half-truth.
Roxi blinks, jerking her head back, hurt settling into her frown. “Why? Where? Your father just got out of prison. He hasn’t even gotten to see you yet, Reverie.” Her voice rises as she continues to admonish Rev. “He’s been going on and on about how excited he is to grow your guys’ relationship and see you again. Have you talked to him about this yet, at least? I can't imagine he'd approve.”
My brows fly up.
“A-approve?” Reverie echoes, blinking rapidly, clearly offended now. Her cheeks tinge pink, and fury flashes in her eyes.
Roxi’s brow furrows, staring at Rev with incredulity.
There's a sharp point digging in the middle of my chest, demanding I doubt Reverie and wonder if she's been feeding me lies along, claiming she and Lionel are estranged to save her skin while secretly having a relationship with him all along.
Because the way Roxi is talking, Rev and Lionel seem to be on great fucking terms. Whatever compassion I was beginning to feel earlier wavers.
You saw her transfer papers.
I did. She wasn't lying about that, and she wouldn't be trying to leave the country if she and Lionel have reconciled. Furthermore, I would expect her to have gone and seen him already if that were the case.
I grind my teeth, regretting coming here. It's already fucking with my head, distracting me from the matter at hand: the fucking hair and if Lionel’s in Colorado.
So either Roxi’s a fantastic actress, or she genuinely doesn’t believe Lionel to be here. Nor does she show the slightest bit of guilt about Rev’s room.
Except none of it is convincing whenshecould be the copycat and a goddamn sociopath, just like her boyfriend. Guilt is the last thing people like Lionel are capable of feeling, and for all we know, she's no different. Maybe she even cut her hair off her goddamn self.
However, all those spiraling thoughts come to a screeching halt when Roxi’s bottom lip trembles.
Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.
She's so offended by Rev wanting to transfer, she’s got tears welling in her eyes, and dealing with her crying is definitely not what I fucking signed up for.
“You’re not her mommy yet, Roxi. No need to lecture her like she’s your child,” I say tonelessly.
Her fiery stare snaps to mine, andphew, she doesnotlike me. How utterly tragic.
