GREYSON
Violet and Willow come out of Amanda’s apartment an hour before our meeting with the school’s publicist. My teeth have been grinding for the last ten minutes, but I refused to go pound on the door—or text her. Not when she couldn’t have been bothered to text me back yesterday.
Her indifference in the daylight irritates me. All week, she’s been acting like nothing is wrong. Like a former friend didn’t dump a drink over her head and then make out with me. Like she wasn’t hurt by that.
Maybe she wasn’t. Maybe Paris has always been the enemy, and she’s used to her behavior.
I could dig deeper.
Cut harder.
My c**k twitches, and I lean forward. I rest my chin on my forearm, on top of the steering wheel. I can almost see her as I will when I’m finished with her. I can’t get the thou
