The Boiling Point | ✔️

11 | secrets we keep

"No. What?"

Mr. Villa rubs the back of his neck, leaning forward again. "You're an attractive young woman, Summer. I'm sure that's something you're aware of. Your looks, combined with your outgoing personality... well it spells out 'wild party girl' in her eyes. You tick similar boxes that Kelsey did, and my wife seems to be hellbent on preventing a repeat of that experience."

I brush the feeling of flattery away. "There's not going to be a repeat of that experience. Even if I was a wild party girl, which I'm not saying I am, what I do in my personal time is my business. And I'd never trash the house or bring boys back here. Trust me, my dad would kill me if I messed up like that. But the fact is that I'm eighteen, I shouldn't have to feel like a kid under constant supervision, you know?"

"I know, Summer, and I agree with you," he says thoughtfully. "I'd be happy to talk to Denise about it, try to get her to ease up a bit."

"Really?" My whole body seems to exhale. "Thank you, that would be amazing."

"And in the meantime, you should know that I'm not as uptight as she is." Mr. Villa gives me a warm smile that reaches his clear blue eyes. "If you want to go and party or stay out late with your friends, I'm not going to stop you, and I won't tell her. It can be our little secret, okay?"

I return his smile, grateful that I can trust at least one of the people I have to live with.

"Okay."

❖❖❖

Sitting in class on Monday morning, I'm a little anxious about seeing Ashton. I don't know what to make of him anymore.

I'm still pissed about him manipulating me during the contest, but that hasn't stopped me from replaying that kiss in my head all weekend. And what he said at the movies surprised me.

Before that, I assumed he was lying about thinking I was hot; I didn't think I was his type at all. I'd expect him to be into a rebellious-looking girl. A tattooed counterpart in female form. Someone more like Charlie.

And as much as I hate to admit it, what he said about challenging each other wasn't far-fetched. Of course I'd be pushing myself on my own, but having him opposite me, taking his snarky comments and throwing them back—it definitely made me work harder to improve.

Maybe being partners with someone I clash with will ultimately be beneficial and help me get to the top.

I'm so deep in thought that I have a late reaction to whatever the class is abruptly humming about. Heads turned and staring at the back of the classroom, I follow their gaze to see what they're looking at. Ashton's weaving through the desks, and I hold in a gasp as he passes me.

His face is all bruised up. Sporting a nasty black eye and fat lip, it looks like he got into one doozy of a fight over the weekend. He slumps into the only open seat next to Charlie, and she immediately fusses over him, delicately touching his face and whispering to him with sympathetic eyes.

An unexpected pang of annoyance whirls through me, and I look away.

Later in the kitchen, Ashton casually wipes his surface with a dish towel as we wait for Chef Kent. I can't stop stealing glances. The bruises look even worse up close.

Tender and swollen, and a deep shade of blue on the highest plane of his cheekbone. He was chatting with his friends like usual at lunch, but now out of their view, he's quiet and neutral.

"Picture would last longer," he mutters.

"Huh?"

He slings the towel over his shoulder and looks me square in the eye. "A picture would last longer, you know, instead of staring at me like I'm an alien. You never seen the aftermath of a fight before, Cupcake?"