Page 111 of Trapped With You

“Smile for this, jackass,” I spat and flipped him my middle finger—a long orange claw that I wouldn’t hesitate to sink into his jugular. “Now fucking move out of my way!”

People watched the drama unfold like it was a hot episode of reality TV, giggling and murmuring amongst themselves, while I sauntered out of the room, shoulders squared and head held high.

Trying to appear as unaffected as possible.

Despite the fact that pictures and videos of this moment would be plastered on social media before the end of the hour.

South Side’s princess humiliated and dethroned in front of fucking peasants.

By her very own princepin.

It would be a goddamn headline.

And the coveted couple of St. Victoria falling from their pedestal would be the highlights of their summer. Not Josh’s stupid piñata.

But I was one resilient bitch. I’d never allow them to see my internal scars or the magnitude of my pain. I’d never allow them to laugh behind my backs without showing them how nasty Ella Ximena Cordova could get. Revenge was a dish best served cold and I’d make sure each motherfucker here choked on every bite as I spoon-fed it down their throats.

I inhaled their cruelty, exhaled a dose of my retaliation, and adjusted my crown.

I was a queen amongst these vultures and I knew it. You could not dethrone me. I was here to fucking stay. Anyone who dared to mess with me would end up with their expensive convertibles keyed and their tinted windows smashed with a crowbar.

I ignored the taunts and gossip as I descended the grand staircase. Behind me, another pair of footsteps followed and Cade incoherently mumbled a warped, “W-Wait.”

Warm hands grabbed my arm and attempted to pull me back. Unhinged. Disbalanced. Furious. That’s how I felt when I spun around and yelled, “Get away from me!”

“P-Please,” Cade panted with bloodshot red eyes and a sheen of sweat decorating his skin. He barely stood straight, his hold on me fragile as a feather. This wasn’t like the other times he got drunk or high at parties. This was tenfold worse.

But I killed the small nugget of worry dancing in my system.

He didn’t deserve that from me.

Not anymore.

I slapped his hands away and sneered, “Don’t touch me! Don’t ever fucking touch me again, you filthy two-timing scum!”

My words sucker punched through his drunken haze and he jolted, clutching the banister for support.

I ran down the remaining steps, angry with the need to raze everything in my surroundings. The music and the flashing neon lights slowed my senses until the only thing I could focus on was the jagged sound of my broken heart thumping in my ears.

Having heard the loud commotion, a crowd gathered at the base of the staircase. Numerous faces gawked at us, like Cade and me were the main acts in a travelling circus. And unfortunately, my friends were nowhere to be found amidst this chaos.

Despite the cold-hearted bitch persona I adopted, I was crumbling on the inside, brick by brick. All thoughts of retaliation instantly fled away. I was fighting tears, the need to vomit, and the fact that the cupcakes I made so lovingly only hours ago would have to be thrown in the garbage.

Fresh air spread over my heated skin as I sprinted out the front doors and towards the woods. I doubled over and vomited on a dirt patch, tears streaming down my face. My entire body shook with turbulent emotions and the same cramps from earlier started quivering below my waist. I pressed a hand over my stomach, retching and coughing.

A branch cracked nearby, an indication that I wasn’t alone.

I snapped my head in the direction of the sound and saw…Darla.

Leaning against a tree, under the moonlit night, my ex-best friend observed me quietly.

Darla stopped talking to me weeks ago, including answering my calls and text messages, for unbeknown reasons. Since our friendship ended, she went out of her way to school her expressions into something unreadable whenever we were in the same space. I could never tell what she was thinking. It was frustrating. And if I tried to talk to her, she left faster than you could saystop. Essentially, she avoided me like the plague. The worst part was I had no idea why, despite trying to understand how we got here.

Though right now, Darla wasn’t running away. She gripped a beer bottle in one hand and her phone in the other, the screen playing the video of me catching Cade in the act.

Oh, God. How did the video circulate so quickly? Had everyone already seen the sordid situation?

“Ella?” Darla hedged, taking a tentative step my way like I was a wounded animal.