CONSTANCE
We had just come back from the cemetery.
The night was supposed to end with the three of us— grandma, my father, and I— stuffing ourselves with fast food while we peacefully, though nostalgically, indulge in the blissful memories of when Maleigha Montero, my mother, was alive. Then, back at home, my father would retreat to his study to review what he had missed on his day off while grandma and I would make microwaved mug cakes to enjoy before going to bed around one in the morning.
It wasn't supposed to turn out with Wren McCray backing me up against the wall and caging me in with his arms under the dim lighting in a desolate hallway.
I tried not to reveal the panicky, nervous emotions I was feeling inside on my face, but deducing from the smug curve of his lips, I wasn't very successful.
"You're not gonna push me away?" he asked in a low voice, his lips barely moving. The place he trapped me in was calculatedly hidden from those who were eating at the booths and tables, but even if some did see Wren, his tall, lean form easily swallowed any trace of mine.
"Of course, not," I whispered back, relieved that I hadn't stumbled over my words. "Why would I touch you? You disgust me."
His teeth gleamed when he laughed, but he coughed to smother it so that no one would look this way. "'Kay, but how're you gonna escape? Don't tell me you think that asking me to move would work?"
"I can scream for help. I don't like or respect you, so don't think I won't resort to snitching," I sneered.
He sneered back, saying, "Stop trying to act tough, darling. Your legs are very clearly shaking and I can even see your pulse throbbing."
"S-so what?" Shit.
He leaned in closer. "Are you scared? Or excited? Hmm?" His nose grazed the shell of my ear.
I jolted, quickly placing my palms on his shoulders to try and push him away. He allowed me to push him back and chuckled again. His laughter was deep, yet still boyish in the sense that it was coiled with mischief.
I don't think I was scared of who he was. He wasn't very intimidating in appearance. His black hair and brown eyes were nothing special. The delicate structure of his face made him seem regal, almost princely, but no where near intense or vehement. His form was tall, but lean, not like the brawny, muscular guys at Crestwood who dwarfed everyone and everything with their presence.
But, the difference was that I knew what he was capable of. He was only 17, but he had too much money, he was free, and most importantly, he didn't let anyone forget that. That particular combination was what made even the sight of his shadow preternaturally large. Wren doesn't bluff when it comes to threats, and those who learned that the hard way now have to remember that they got fucked over by an average looking high schooler as a grown man or woman. He wasn't famous in this town, maybe at Galatea, but once you meet him, he'll undeniably leave a big, red, middle-finger-shaped mark on your life.
~*~*~*~*~*~
WREN
I stepped back a few steps and placed my hands in my pockets. Her gaze followed mine, and when she tilted her head to observe me warily, some of the light coming from the main room illuminated the bottom half of her face. The view of the pink outline of her lips came as an uninvited, yet pleasant surprise. I squinted at them in irritation before pushing those ludicrous thoughts aside.
"Seems like going through the trouble of transferring schools didn't pay off," I scoffed. "You end up running into me anyways. Oh, if only you knew how much joy that brings me."
As expected, prying open a poorly stitched wound shook up the little confidence she had mustered. She no longer seemed to be directing her loud, yet wobbly, stare on my face, but instead on the floor tiles. Her cheeks had flushed and she slowly shifted her weight from side to side.
"Maybe...it didn't pay off in that sense," she started, tipping her head up to look me in the eyes once more. "But I don't regret it."
"Why." I blurted.
"Because Galatea felt suffocating."
I rolled my eyes. "Don't start with the melodramatic bullshit. So, you like Crestwood now? Are they treating you nicer there?"
"Why do you care?" she snapped.
"Don't be mislead, darling. I'm not concerned about your well being." I grinned wickedly. "You're mine to ruin. I don't like sharing my toys. Of course, you know this very well, don't you?" I just barely resisted the urge to throw up.
"Christ." She paled.
"That's right," I smirked. "Don't think I'm going to let you forget who I am. Even if you--"
"Am I interrupting something?" a firm voice called out from behind us.
I peeked behind my shoulder to see Constance's grandmother narrowing her eyes at my back in suspicion. I quickly softened my features and put a dazzling smile on my face before turning around to face her. Constance held her breath.
"Oh, hi," I beamed, chuckling a bit. "Sorry, I just happened to see Connie once she got up to go the restroom. I'm one of her friends from Galatea. We used to be really close before she transferred, so I was just making sure she didn't forget about me." I rubbed the back of my neck, raising my eyes sheepishly to her's in an innocent search for approval.
The suspicion didn't leave her eyes after I spoke, but when she glanced at Constance's frozen state, weirdly, her expression turned mischievous and teasing.
"How interesting," Constance's grandmother mused with a smile. "I never knew that she had someone who looked after her in her old school. You have my thanks."
I swallowed back a bitter laugh. Her words inflicted a sharp sting to my gut, but I just nodded and continued smiling like a good boy to eliminate any trace of suspicion that was left.
I scanned Constance's face once more while cheerily saying, "Alright, then. You guys can go and continue your dinner. I'll head back now." I nodded at her grandmother. "Nice to meet you," I added sweetly. I caught sight of the irritation brimming in Constance's eyes, and held back my smirk.
I turned my back on them and started to saunter away with my hands in my pockets.
"Wait, hold on!" her grandmother blurted out.
I stopped in my tracks and looked back at them. "Hmm?" I blinked innocently, though I had an idea of what she was about to say. It was very hard not to let out the shit-eating grin that had nearly taken over my face.
"Have you had anything to eat yet? Let us treat you. We have an extra seat at our table, come have dinner with us!" The expression on the old lady's face was so radiant that I almost felt bad for deceiving her. Behind her, Constance glared at her grandmother's back in disbelief. I gleefully ate up her expression of panic.
I lowered my head a little with an uncertain smile, coming off as shy and sheepish. "Would that really be okay? I'd actually love to join you."
Her grandmother's laugh softly rang in my ears like the sound of a wind chime. "Of course it's okay!" She turned to her granddaughter, who was still plastered against the wall. "Do you still need to use the bathroom, plum?"
As Constance raised her eyes briefly to meet mine, I felt the corners of my lips tug up in a smug, conceited smile. You lose. Again.
"No, grandma. It's okay," she assured, still looking at me over her grandmother's shoulder.
In the next few seconds, Constance's grandmother and I made friendly conversation as we strolled to their table, and Constance followed behind us, fuming.
Seeing her this mad, knowing that I was the cause of this much anger, was immensely pleasing to me. If that's not hate, I don't know what is.