Page 86 of Vicious Little Snakes

“Fuck,” Kai growls, adjusting his sunglasses, but I start speaking, lost in the idea of Caroline.

“You think I don’t know that she’s a masterpiece, Kai? The best note in every song, a mean little snake that should never be tamed. That girl’s owned me since 9:17 a.m., on October 31, 2015—when I gave her a goddamn Care Bear sticker that I’d stolen.”

His face turns, eyes searching mine, then his expression shifts. Kai’s head draws back ever so slightly as he points his finger at me.

“I can’t believe I never saw it before. I mean, how could I? A month ago, you were chasing after Donovan. Last week you were dipping into the freshman pool. But all this time, you’ve loved Caroline.”

I don’t look at him, just stare at the goddamn roof of the car. Everything inside of me wants to demand, threaten, hurt him—just to ensure he never touches her again. I want to say,“Now that you know, all you get is her friendship because she’s mine, always has been and always will be.”But I lost that right when I tore out her heart the first and second time.

Screamed obscenities come from outside the car as someone passes us, pulling both our eyes. The light’s green again, and we’re still here.

“Shit,” Kai breathes, just as we’re met with a sound of a siren and one of New York City’s finest on a loudspeaker.

“Pull over. Now.”

This fucking day’s getting better and better.

* * *

I’ve been hiding downstairs in my art studio all night. My mom had it built for me years ago, much to my father’s dismay, but this is always where I come when my head feels too loud, and today it’s like a full-on concert in there.

After Kai and I sat on the sidewalk, receiving a lecture and some threat from the cops, we were released, but I opted to walk home, and he went to my mom’s office. I couldn’t get back inside the car and hash out what I’d said or did to Caroline. So I walked away without a word and slipped back inside my house, coming straight here.

The toothpick in my mouth is wearing down as I lean sideways on my stool, sweeping my brush over the faint pencil line of my sketch, feathering the paint. I pull back, looking at the lips I’ve drawn—her fucking lips.

My head drops to look at the ground as I jerk the toothpick out of my mouth, and a wave of thoughts flood, but I try to shake them off by raising my gaze back to the picture.

But all I see is Caroline.

“Fuck,” I breathe out, tossing the paintbrush onto a nearby table, and interlock my fingers behind my head, staring at her perfect pout.

This is so fucked.

Buzzing sounds from where I left my phone on the couch. I stand and head over to see that there must be another dozen texts from Donovan. I’m not answering her or anyone; it’s a dick thing to do, but I can’t, not right now.

Van:Why are you ignoring me?

Van:Answer your phone.

Van:Kai said you guys were held by the cops longer because you kept running your mouth. WTF, Liam!

Van:Are you serious rn? This is how you’re going to be? Real nice.

Blowing out a breath, I pick up my phone. My thumbs hover, debating what to say, what not to say, and all the shit in between.

Me:Get off my back…

Delete.

Me:I’m sorry…

Delete.

Me:I love h…

Delete.

The door to the studio opens, drawing my eyes in surprise as my father walks through. He’s staring at my face, with a look that tells me I’m not going to like whatever he has to say. I type quickly, responding to Donovan, and hit send before pocketing my phone.