CHAPTER TWENTY
Granola bars are peace offerings. Check.
Nixon
I felt guilty all through lunch about giving Trace the red card. She wouldn't see it as the kindness it was. Eating in the commons would destroy her. At least, in the Red Cafeteria she wouldn't have to worry about people bullying her. Then again, I couldn't make promises because I couldn't predict a damn thing the girl did.
Once lunch ended, I tried to escape my sister's pensive gaze. Tried and failed. She grabbed my arm and twisted.
"Satan." She seethed.
"Mo, can we argue later? When I'm not so stressed out I want to shoot things?"
She released my arm and grinned then held out a granola bar.
"Um, thanks, but I just ate?"
"Not you, you ass." She rolled her eyes. "Trace just texted me. She didn't eat. She's hungry. She isn't like your usual girl who pretends to eat lettuce only to throw it up later. Girl's going to pass out if she doesn't get food."
"And you're telling me this why?"
"Because you like her."
I looked away. "Damn twin."
"Ha, you love me, and, regardless of what's been going down between you and her and even Chase…" She shook her head. "…I like her. She's my roommate, she has no friends, and every single odd has been stacked against her. Yet she wakes up every day with a smile on her face and tries to encourage me, of all people. She makes me want to be better, and the sad thing? I think you know it. I think you're so damn scared of your own feelings that you're using family shit to force your hand. This is the real world. You're an adult. So here."
I took the granola bar and stared at it like it was some weird foreign object.
"Peace offering." Mo slapped me on the back. "If you wait by the lab, she'll be walking by in a few minutes."
"Are you matchmaking?"
"Course not." Mo winked. "Oh, and PS, think I could bring Tex by the house when I talk to Dad?"
"Talk to Dad?" I repeated. "Why the hell would you want to do that?"
Her face fell. "Well, I thought he gave us his blessing."
"He's not well, Mo. He's… dying." Wow great lie. "It might be best for you to wait."
"But what about the family dinner?"
"Let me get back to you, okay?" I forced a cheesy grin and kissed her on the forehead. "And thanks for the granola bar."
"Yeah well, when you're being an ass, I'm the only one you'll listen to."
"I listen to Chase."
"Ha, Chase likes your girl, so I think those days are long gone."
My gut twisted. She was so right it was scary. "I'll see ya, sis."
"Later, loser."
Ten minutes later, and I still felt like the loser she'd called me. I was leaning against the wall, waiting for a girl to walk by. Right. My world had officially crashed and burned. What the hell was I doing?
Trace was staring at the ground, slowly making her way down the hall, her face pale and tired.
Slowly that face lifted. She met my stare with ice, like she wasn't sure if she wanted to punch me in the face or just set my pants on fire.
"There were rumors you didn't get lunch." Yeah, that was the best I could do.
Her eyebrows arched. "Rumors, huh? Well, alert the authorities. Oh wait, I forgot. You're what? The judge, jury, and—"
"Stop." I said it so low my voice cracked. With a sigh, I walked toward her until she had nowhere to go but against the wall, exactly where I wanted her. She tried to sidestep me, but I moved in the way, our faces nearly colliding. "I'm speaking to you."
"And I'm leaving," she hissed.
"Just…" I scratched my head and tried to conjure up any sort of game. Normally, girls just threw themselves at me. The ones who were afraid didn't need nice words or smiles. They just wanted the power behind my name. I was at a complete loss. The thought made me smile. Hell, it made me want to break down in chaotic laughter. I was afraid of nothing — but her. I was afraid of her.
Trace's mouth dropped open. She took a step toward me, probably not even realizing that she'd lifted her hands as if she wanted to cup my face.
Slowly, I reached behind her and gently pushed her into the alcove, pinning her against the wall, willing my eyes to stare at her brown depths rather than her plump lips. I wanted to taste them so bad I hated me for it. I hated her, and I hated that life had given me someone like her at the worst possible time.
"Eat," I urged softly.
Her mouth snapped open, tempting me further, so I did the next best thing. Rather than kissing her, I shoved the granola bar in her mouth.
Yeah, I was a regular lady killer.
Her stomach growled loud enough for me to hear.
I smirked. "See? I knew you were hungry." Right. Like music to every girl's ears.
She moaned a little.
I died a little more.
"Of course I was hungry, you ass! I was in the Red Cafeteria! I half-expected to be eaten myself in that place, and they don't serve meat. NO MEAT, Nixon! Some cow gets to live another day because the people in there eat tofu! Do you even know what that stuff is made out of?"
Shocked, I could only stare at her open-mouthed. Then her little finger poked me in the chest, causing blood to surge in all the wrong places. Holy shit, was she reprimanding me? And why the hell was it so damn hot?
"And let me tell you something else. I did not sleep with Tim! Well, I may have slept, but I definitely didn't touch his— And, and… I—"
My eyebrows rose. I had no idea what she was talking about, and why the hell would I care about our lame-ass quarterback, but this side of her? The one with spunk? Yeah, I freaking craved it, so I licked my lips and leaned forward. "Oh, do continue. I love getting reprimanded. You gonna spank me later too?" Dear God, please say yes.
Her nostrils flared, and, just on cue, her stomach growled again. She closed her eyes as if trying to disappear altogether.
"Good Lord, woman! Just eat the damn granola bar and say thank you!"
Her eyes narrowed. "Where were you last night?"
The smile froze on my face. Oh, you know, committing murder — no big, though the stains gonna be a bitch to get out of my favorite henley. "I gotta run."
"Wait." She grabbed my arm.
It was enough to make me pause, to make me want to stay firmly planted in front of her. Hell, it was enough for me to want to ask her for a hug and never let go. When had I become that person? The type that was so starved for human affection that I was basically ready to push myself into the arms of a girl who deserved so much better than what I had to give.
Unable to control the tremble in my arm, I jerked away. "Please." I closed my eyes so I wouldn't see the hurt on her face. "Don't touch me."
I walked away before I blurted out everything.
Killing my father.
Hating my best friend for the same reason I hated myself.
War between families.
Life.
I wanted a friend.
For the first time in my life, I wanted a friend who was a girl.
A girl like Trace.
The memory rushed forward. Unable to stop the pain as it swirled in my chest, I let myself remember a similar girl, a girl who was so much like Trace.
"Don't be sad!" Bella shouted.
I plugged my ears.
Her little lip jutted out. I unplugged my ears and sighed. "What are you gonna do about it, huh?"
"Wanna play Barbies?"
"No." I folded my arms across my chest. "Boys don't play Barbies."
"You have a G.I. Joe."
"It's not a Barbie."
She let out a giggle. "Um, yes it is. Mommy said so."
I looked away from her because I knew the truth. She wouldn't get to talk to her mommy ever again, and I felt like it was my fault, like I could have stopped it even though I was too young to do anything but eavesdrop on conversations between the adults.
"I'll always be your friend. You know that, right?"
"Yes, Nixon
." She nodded firmly. "I know that. You're my best friend. Now, let's play Barbies before Mommy comes home."
But she didn't come home.
And I never saw my friend ever again.