Page 19 of Sour Lollipops and Sweet Nightmares (The Society #1)

If I were going to have a friend, I suppose there were worse options. At least with her, I didn’t have to worry about carrying the conversation. Rachel talked so much that most of the time, I could only get the odd word in.

Sometimes I didn’t say anything at all and let her answer herself. I was fairly sure she had ADHD, either that or she did a lot of drugs. I hadn’t decided yet.

After getting changed, I walked into the kitchen, tied my hair back in a ponytail, then stretched my arms over my head.

The kitchen wasn’t the best room to do a warm-up in, but I liked how the morning sun cascaded over the soapstone countertops, highlighting the marbling in the stone. That and the demon bird was nested in the tree outside my bedroom.

The only window where you couldn't see the tree was the one in here. It could still stare in through the window behind me, but I didn’t have to look that way.

I don’t care what anyone said, that owl was not normal. All night long, it watched me, and I swear I heard it hoot my name last night. It was this eerie, elongated Geeeorgiaaa that sent a shiver up my spine. I trusted Issac more than I trusted that thing.

Reaching down to touch my toes, I stopped and frowned while looking between my legs back toward the window.

The owl had gone to sleep now, but a branch from that damn tree was knocking against the living room window. The tip of it scratched the glass, making an eerie screech, screech, screech, almost as if it was taunting me to come out and say hi to the evil big-eyed bird that lived there.

Demon bird was nowhere in sight, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t watching. He was always watching. Even right now, with my head hanging upside down, while I looked through my legs, I could feel his eyes on me.

I needed to get a cat—a big, mean, nasty cat that liked to eat birds. Our neighbor back home had a tabby named Hank who used to leave dead squirrels outside our door. Maybe he’d let me borrow him? Hank would rid me of my owl problem.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” I called through my legs.

“What are you doing?”

“Jesus Christ!” There was someone in my house!

My heart thumped hard against my ribs as I slowly lifted my head, half expecting to see some giant owl monster standing inside my door.

Thankfully, it was only Rachel.

Her brow lifted as she tipped her head. “Stop looking at me like I’m going to kill you. It’s just me.”

“Do you scare the crap out of all your friends?” I let out a breath and dropped my head back down.

“You’re my only friend.”

Really?

I lifted my head back up. “I thought you had a lot of friends?”

She was always going on about the parties she received invitations to.

“No, I have acquaintances.”

Wasn’t that what we were? Either way… “You have got to stop walking in here. Knock next time.”

Was she trying to give me a heart attack?

Rachel shrugged. “The door was open.”

That’s it, I was getting that lock checked. Right after I bought her a book on Knocking for Dummies. There had to be one out there.

“Why are you here?” This morning was my alone time—considering who I might have to see to get my bag back later—I wanted to enjoy it.

“I thought I’d join you for a run…” She paused to tip her head to the side. “I didn’t think I’d catch you talking to your vagina.”

“What? Why would I…” I stopped and looked down at my hands touching my toes, and thought about the here, kitty, kitty she probably heard.

Okay, I could see where she was coming from.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

She gave me a sly grin. “It never is.”

I rolled my eyes at her innuendo.

When Rachel wasn’t talking about how certain guys were evil, she was talking about the guys she had random hookups with. Or ones she wanted to hook up with or dreamed about hooking up with.

Basically, if he were a guy with a working penis who was semi-good-looking, Rachel would talk about him. She even thought that Issac was hot, which I could kind of see. He was good-looking, but his personality seriously sucked.

Rachel did mention a couple of girls, but I’d zoned out by that point and only caught a fraction of what was said.

Someone named Mindy had a boob job, and someone else was a bitch.

I don’t know why or what she did, but according to Rachel, friends hated certain people together.

So, now I had a grudge against some girl I didn’t know.

I really missed the days when it was just me and my rocks. Those were simpler times when I could stretch alone in my kitchen without unwanted visitors.

“If you want someone to talk to your vagina, I know the perfect person…”

Don’t say it.

“Kash is a bit of a vagina whisperer.”

And she said it.

“He does this thing with his…”

“Nope.” I cut her off and snapped upright before she went into more detail or decided to give me another lecture on masturbation skills. There were some things I wished I could scrub from my brain. How Rachel got herself off was now at the top of that list.

“Ugh,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun.”

Exactly. I was boring. So, why was she here?

Eyeing Rachel, I briefly considered telling her to go away, but knew from experience that wouldn’t work. Her friendship was like ordering a meal you thought you wanted, only to hate it when you got it, yet still felt obligated to eat anyway.

Sucking in a tsk, I ran my eyes over her tight black pants that weren’t at all suited for running, and accepted my fate. Like it or not, I had an exercise partner today. Tomorrow, however, I was getting up thirty minutes earlier.

Well, if we were going to do this, then we had better get started. I had an hour and a half before my first class, and a bag to retrieve.

“Alright.” I clapped my hands. “Let’s go running.”

Maybe I’d get lucky and she’d tire out halfway through.

When I took a step towards the door, Rachel’s brow lifted. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Yeah?” Suddenly doubting myself, I looked down at my pink leggings. “What’s wrong with it?”

Sweatshirt, leggings, and sneakers were proper running gear. I didn’t think I was missing anything. Was I?

“Your pants are pink.”

I didn’t realize color mattered when one was exercising.

“And are those legwarmers?”

“Yes. It’s chilly out.” It was fall. The temperature was dropping.

Rachel placed her hand on her cocked hip. “They’re green.”

“Okay?” Was green a problem? Did it go against this mysterious girl code I knew nothing about?

“You look like you’re getting ready to run in the eighties.” She explained. “All you’re missing is the headband.”

“Oh.” That’s what I forgot. “I have a headband…”

“No.” Rachel immediately cut me off. “Don’t even think about going to get that thing unless you plan on burning it.”

“Why not?”

“No.”

“But…”

“No.” She repeated.

I hung my head and whined, “It keeps my ears warm.”

“Suck it up. Beauty is pain.”

That was the kind of reasoning Mom would’ve given me five years ago. I may need to help Rachel the same way I helped my mother. She did care an awful lot about her appearance.

We were going for a run, and she had makeup on. The only thing she did right was wear running shoes and put her hair in a ponytail. She wanted to help me, but I think she needed my help more. And I would start by pointing out the obvious.

“We’re running. The color of my outfit doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters.” She argued.

“No one cares what I run in.”

“You should.” Rachel gave me a pointed look. “Do you want to stand out, because that outfit will make you stand out.”

Disbelief narrowed my eyes. “No, it doesn’t.”

“It’s neon.” Her face dropped. “When’s the last time you saw someone wear neon?”

I crossed my arms. “Last week, when I wore this exact same thing.”

And no one said anything then.

“Uh huh.” She nodded, causing her ponytail to bob. “And how many people stared at you?”

Come to think of it, a lot of people did.

I thought it was because I had excellent form when I ran—I had been running for years—but maybe Rachel had a point?

At least in this instance, that is. If asshole Issac and sex appointment Kash were an example of the guys that went to Renfrew, then I certainly didn’t want any more attention.

I huffed, “Fine, I’ll go change.” Then headed for my room to dig through my dresser for my black leggings. “But I’m keeping the leg warmers.”

“Whatever,” Rachel called back. “I hear Issac likes green.”

That’s where she had to go? “He’s not interested in me anymore.”

“If you say so.” She sang in a not-so-convincing way.

Despite the fact that I told myself I wasn’t going to listen to her anymore, an image of Issac eyeing my legwarmers the same way he eyed me in the cafeteria flashed through my mind. What if he really did like green? What if he really, really liked green?

Damnit.

I ripped off the legwarmers and tossed them in the hamper.

That was the last time I was going to let something she said get to me.

That girl was way too impressionable. I didn’t know what was worse?

Her incessant gossip or that she wouldn’t leave me alone.

It was obvious, after days with no encounters, that I didn’t need her backup—or Kash’s, which she was still insistent on—yet she wouldn’t leave me alone.

Mom wanted me to get a friend, because she didn’t want me to be alone. Well, I wasn’t alone anymore. And I may never be again.

I changed my pants and grumbled, “I hope you’re happy, Mom.” Before leaving to go for a run with my ‘friend’ .