Page 11 of Mad Girl

Eleanor looped her arm through yours. “Tell us about yourself, Casey,” she said, leading you to the dining room. “Where are you from, dear?”

You told us you were from an area in London called Blackheath. You had an older sister named Claire, your father taught physical education at a private school, and your mother had been a freelance writer before she’d died in a car accident. The usual condolences followed this bit of news, but you shrugged them off, keeping your face stoic, like you hated the pity.

Nic changed the subject by asking if you were in school, and you gave him a somber shake of your head. The devastation of not being admitted off the waitlist at Harvard had led you to take a gap year in the States. You wanted to explore a few other options in person, you said, before applying somewhere else—preferably close to Boston, which you’d grown to love during your time here. When John asked how you and Michael had met, Michael told everyone you’d met through Sienna. According to him, you’d befriended her while taking a self-guided tour around Harvard. “It was more of a self-pity tour,” you interjected here. “Just me licking my wounds, trying not to look like I’d just been rejected by my dream school.” And when Sienna had confessed to having a crush on the guy in her political philosophy class, you’d convinced her to ask Michael out. After a few weeks of dating, Sienna convinced Michael to show you around Boston since he’d grown up here, and she was still growing familiar with the city herself.

I poked at my quiche, annoyed by the story. Annoyed that you and Sienna actually were friends. Annoyed by you and your very presence at my dining table. You kept catching me staring—or, to be more precise, wishing death upon you with a glare.

But the death glares barely fazed you. If anything, you found them amusing, a small smile tugging at your gorgeous mouth every time our gazes met. And that pissed me off, too.

Later, Michael pulled me aside and said, “Stop looking at him like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to stab him with your fork or something,” Michael said, earning him a smirk from me. “It’s not his fault you got caught with that cigarette, Elliot.”

“It was his cigarette.”

“He didn’t force you to smoke it,” Michael pointed out.

“You weren’t even there.”

“Didn’t have to be to know what happened. You were pulling the same shit you always do.” Michael shook his head. “You were out there, trying to prove you’re a badass, and when Casey didn’t buy it, you got pissed and went too far. This time, that meant giving yourself up to Nic.”

With a huff, I folded my arms, shooting him a death glare, too.

But Michael wasn’t fazed. “Everyone knew you framed the nanny,” he said.

“They did not.”

Michael nodded. “I heard Nic talking to my mom after he fired her. My mom said to Nic, ‘You fired that innocent woman, and Elliot’s getting exactly what she wanted.’ And Nic said to my mom, ‘You didn’t see how upset she got after I searched her room, Lib. I think she was telling the truth this time.’ And my mom shook her head at your dad and said, ‘Oh, Nic. She played you again.’”

“Are you trying to make me feel worse than I already do?” My voice broke when I whispered, “I apologized.”

“Look,” Michael said, “I’m sorry about the nanny, but Casey did nothing wrong. He doesn’t deserve to be glared at through an entire meal.”

“Fine,” I groaned. “I’ll try not to glare at him—should I ever see him again after today.”

“Oh, you’ll be seeing him. We hang out a lot. I’m bringing him back next Sunday.”

“What? Why?”

“Because he’s a nice guy, and he doesn’t know anyone here. He’s my friend.”

“Can’t he be your friend somewhere else? Like, outside of my house?”

Michael’s gaze hardened. “Can’t you stop being a brat? First, you piss off my girlfriend with the lip thing—which, by the way, was completely inappropriate—and now you’re trying to tell me I can’t bring Casey around, because God forbid someone else should be able to see through your bullshit. I should be allowed to have something without it being on your terms, Elliot. You shouldn’t have that much control over my life.”

My throat squeezed. “Do whatever you want, Michael. I didn’t realize I made you so miserable. It’s just that I barely get to see you anymore, now that you’re always hanging out with your new friends.”

“I didn’t even think about that,” Michael said, instantly softening and reaching for my arm. “We see each other at my house when Nic leaves you with my parents.”

“Yeah, I see you at your house,” I said, eyebrows lifted, “hooking up with your girlfriend in the hallway.”

Michael closed his eyes, as if it pained him to remember.

“And you’re about to move out,” I reminded him. “So I’ll be seeing you even less.”

“Listen. School’s crazy, but I’ll make more time for us before I move out, okay? I promise. But I’d like you to promise me something.”