❝You're somewhat known in our circles. We call you the Ruiners.❞
Two girls--
They've had other names. Other lives. They have been mortal enemies and reluctant allies. Friends. Rivals. Accomplices. Lovers.
--and a vengeful soul bent on their destruc...
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"How are you going to tell me you don't want any trouble when it's what you blew out your birthday candles for?"
∞
"Ohhh!"
From the sound of things, the crowd in the living room was currently drooling over a fight.
I groaned. Sebri.
How could I be sure it was her? Because she was Sebri. I gave the skirt of my red plaid dress an irritated tug.
"Shit, my dads are going to kill me," Ben-something said, hand frozen on the handle of his fridge.
Nah, they wouldn't kill him—they were going to need someone to mop the blood off the floor.
I groaned again. Aside from Ben and me, the only other person in the kitchen was a kid—he seriously looked twelve—who'd introduced himself as Fat Sammy despite being about as wide as a pole. At the moment he was resting his face against the wall, oblivious to the vomit on the back of his shirt.
Great party this had turned out to be.
Assuring Ben I'd handle it, I put down my cup and headed for the living room.
Sebri had seemed fine five minutes ago, when she'd interrupted my make out session in Ben's backyard before it could even begin. I'd glimpsed her over the hot new guy's shoulder as she'd casually leaned against a tree opposite us, not bothering to hide herself. And so had followed my search for a strong drink. (I would've liked to say it was successful, but I'd spent the last five minutes sipping apple juice to avoid this very mob.)
I broke through the thick circle just as Sebri—beautiful face contorting, long hair flying—gave her fallen opponent a kick in the ribs, then stomped on their shoulder. I recognized the redheaded nightmare instantly.
Angie Tate was no fan of mine, and she must've used me to poke awake the mad bear that was Sebri's temper.
Body balled up, eyes squeezed shut, the girl didn't move. I was impressed. "Play dead and hope for the best" actually wasn't a terrible idea.
The terrible idea was coming here in the first place. I'd thought it might help Sebri and her recent ex, Sean, move past any post-breakup awkwardness—both were my friends and I wanted both to be happy. Sean had texted that he'd be lurking, but I hadn't seen him yet.
Like a wingless Fury, Sebri raised her burning gaze to her now silent audience, her eyes partially obscured by her bangs. She was a queen taking in her royal court, an agitated goddess raining warning sparks on us from the clouds. "Anybody else," she snarled, stance wide and fists curled at her sides, "want to say something?"
Nobody dared.
I knew Sebri was perfectly aware of me being a few feet away, but she didn't look in my direction—which allowed me to freely assess every inch of her.
