“Thanks, Mom.” I let her envelop me in her arms.
“I hate seeing you so upset, and do we need to have a talk about alcohol consumption?”
I shake my head. “Trust me, I learned that lesson the hard way.”
“Go and eat breakfast with your friends while I make a few phone calls. I’ll have that recording removed within a few hours and details of the culprit.”
“I love you, Mom.” I squeeze her tighter.
“I love you too.”
A few hours later, Mom finds us in the sunroom, listening to music and chatting. I left a tearful message for Reeve promising to call him later once he’s finished filming, and Alex went over to Nate’s house and roughed him up a little. He’s been blowing up my phone too, but I blocked him. According to Alex, the kiss was his pathetic attempt at cheering me up because I looked sad.
“It’s gone,” Mom says, depositing a tray with iced tea and cookies on the coffee table. “And the person who posted it has been sent legal correspondence. He’ll be shitting his pants for months,” she adds with a knowing smile.
Alex barks out a laugh. “Remind me to never get on your bad side, Mrs. Mills.”
“Don’t hurt my daughter, or Audrey, and you don’t have anything to worry about, Alexander.”
“Who was it?” I ask, and she falters.
“I think it’s best you don’t know. It’s been dealt with.”
I rise, facing her. “Mom. Have you forgotten what high school is like? This is all anyone is going to be talking about next week in school. I need to know who’s behind it; otherwise, I look like an even bigger fool.”
“If I tell you, you have to promise you won’t do anything.” Her eyes roam over my head to Alex and Audrey. “That goes for you two as well.”
I don’t like lying to my mom, but I need to know who did this, and I can’t make promises I’m unsure I can keep. Right now, I want to throttle whoever did this with my bare hands. “We won’t do anything,” I lie, looking her dead straight in the eye.
“It was Randy Jennings,” she confirms, and Audrey and I share a puzzled look as I wrack my brains to visualize the guy she’s talking about.
“Shit.”
Audrey and I whip our heads around to Alex.
“You know him?” Audrey asks.
Alex nods. “He’s Tyson’s twin brother.” Tyson plays on the football team with Alex.
“Why would he want to stir shit?” It’s not like anyone that goes to our illustrious private school would need to do it for money. I was expecting it to be someone who hates me and wants to split me and Reeve up, so this makes no sense.
Alex purses his lips, and frowns, as he considers it. His eyes darken a few seconds later before they find mine. “He’s dating Marnie Gibson. She’s behind this.”
“Who is Marnie Gibson?” Mom asks.
“She played Juliet against Reeve’s Romeo,” I remind her.
“Ah, now it makes sense.” She’s aware of how badly Marnie was crushing on Reeve. How she kept shoving her tongue into his mouth during the kissing scenes, and how she waged a campaign of war against me for a solid year, until Reeve reported her for harassment to the principal and she was given a warning.
“Can we use this to get her poisonous ass expelled this time?” Audrey asks, looking as angry as I feel.
“I doubt it. It was a private party, and it’s not like she forced Nate into kissing me.” I turn my head toward Alex as an unwelcome thought lodges in my mind. “Does she have anything on Nate? Was this a setup?”
He shakes his head. “I really don’t think he was put up to this. Everyone knows he has the biggest hard-on for you.”
Mom clears her throat, sending Alex a pointed look.
Red heat creeps up Alex’s neck and onto his cheeks. “Apologies, Mrs. Mills. I kind of forgot you were in the room.”
“I think that’s my cue to leave.” Mom kisses my cheek. “Don’t do anything about this. You only have a few weeks until you graduate. Don’t let that little bitch ruin it for you. The best revenge you can get is to fix things with Reeve and present a united front. Ignore her at school, which will annoy her to no end.” It is good advice and, hopefully, once this burning desire to rip her limb from limb subsides, it is advice I can take.
11
I’m shaking with fear as I press the button to call Reeve later that night. He doesn’t answer, and I’m fearful he’s avoiding me. Curling into a ball on my bed, I clutch my cell in my hand, trying to talk myself off a ledge. He’s probably just running late, and he’ll call me back as soon as he can. Ten minutes later, my cell vibrates, and I quell the urge to hurl my dinner when I see his gorgeous face flashing across the ringing screen. Rubbing a hand over my queasy tummy, I answer his FaceTime call.