Page 57 of Vicious Little Snakes

I don’t answer her, mumbling to myself, “Come on, Kai. Pay attention to our girl.”

“Everything okay?” Arden questions again, taking my hand.

I nod reluctantly.She’s none of your business anymore, Liam.We turn, walking back toward the steps to leave, but I keep glancing to where she’s now dancing, that dude’s hand running up under her dress.

“Goddammit,” I growl, stopping us in our tracks.

“Hey.” Arden grabs my face, turning it to hers. “You said ‘our girl.’ But we both know you meant ‘my girl.’ Just go handle your shit, Liam, and stop waiting for life to give you permission.”

Arden barely finishes her words before I’m past her, making my way into the crowd to break necks.

PAST—sophomore year

February

Liam

“Dude. You have to get over it,” I laugh from where I’m sprawled out playing video games.

I can’t stop laughing—Grey’s miserable. I would feel bad if his shitty attitude were about his dad remarrying after his mom’s death, but it’s not. It’s got everything to do with his new stepsister.

Caroline Whitmore.

I haven’t spoken to the girl since that day in sixth grade, but I haven’t stopped noticing her either. She’s changed over the years, fake blonde hair becoming sexy brunette. The roundness in her face becoming too gaunt at times. Most of all, the girl that told me who she was in a line to P.E., has become mythic in her own right—but now she’s more viper than dragon.

“Of all the fucking girls,” he yells from his bathroom, “Caroline Whitmore’s a fucking punishment.”

Jesus, he’s dramatic.

My hands swerve right, then left like I’m driving the video game car before I crash, groaning, “Fuck,” and tossing the remote.

“You can’t hate her just because of Van anymore,” I yell back. “Van’s been gone forever. No messages, no nothing. And Caroline Whitmore isn’t replacing Van—last I checked, you never wanted Van to be your sister. Because what little Grey would have eventually done as big Grey is illegal in this state.”

A roll of toilet paper whizzes by my head, but I duck.

“Shut the fuck up. I hate that girl for my own reasons,” he growls from the doorway.

Sure, you do.

I chuckle, leaning back on my elbows. “Whatever. All I’m saying is you can’t do anything to change shit, so you might as well make the best of it.”

He comes out looking around the room, so I point to the valet stand where his jacket is hung, and he stalks over to it.

“That’s another thing. How can I make the best of this?” Grey says with his back to me. “The little tart came on to me. How fucking twisted is that?”

“That’s not what she said. I remember the actual version. She sarcastically offered an idea to break up the wedding. Stop reshaping the truth to fuel some fucking need to hate her. You’re worse than a chick right now.”

Grey stares at me, but I shrug. “What?”

He’s pissed over what I’m saying. But I always tell him the truth about himself. It’s what brothers do.

He swallows and looks down, letting out a breath.

“Dude, it just…I don’t know. It feels like everything is changing. Like my mom is being replaced too.”

Now this time, I do feel bad.

“Your mom was one of a kind, Grey. Nobody replaces her. And think about this, in a few years, we’ll be out from under these pricks. Doing what we want, eating, drinking, and partying.” I stand and walk over, tossing an arm over his shoulder, holding out a hand in front of me like I’m painting a picture. “And on our way through Europe. Specifically, Spain.”