She rolls her eyes. “Some things never change,” she groans, looking away, but I hear her loud and clear.
“Have you looked in a mirror lately, princess?” I challenge, and her shoulders tense. “Aside from your tits getting bigger, you haven't changed a bit. You're the same little prissy know-it-all you were when you were ten years old.”
Courtney snorts, holding in her laughter. Viola shoots daggers at me, biting her tongue.
I smile until we’re back at the house and am reminded why we’re even here. That bitch, Alyssa.
After grabbing my air compressor from the garage, I set it in the Jeep then slide into the back seat.
“You sure you don't need anything else, pretty boy?” Courtney asks, eyeing me from the rearview mirror as she jerks the Jeep into drive.
“No, that's it,” I reply, buckling in. Viola chuckles from her seat, still looking away from me as if I've missed some inside joke or something. “What's funny?”
“Aside from this whole situation?” Viola cracks, her shoulders shaking from laughter.
Sighing, I sit back against the leather seats. “Yeah, hilarious.” I know I have no one to blame but myself, but hell, Alyssa didn't give me the psychopath vibe when we started hooking up. I suppose karma would come back to bite me in the ass, eventually. Nailing the CEO’s daughter isn't exactly on my list of great accomplishments, but fuck, you'd think her pussy was made of diamonds by the way she's treating me now.
“Aw, don't be so harsh, Lola.” Courtney shoots me a look of pity in the mirror. “It's not easy being a walking, talking eye candy machine. It’s probably a lot of pressure to be hot and perfect twenty-four seven.” The way the corner of her lips tilts up tells me she's mocking me. I know I deserve it, but that doesn't mean I want it rubbed in my face right now.
“Oh, trust me,” Viola begins before I have a chance to defend myself. “He's perfected his whole act of being a god. Back in high school, he managed to dateevery oneof my friends. He thinks he's a master of getting any girl he wants. Don't feel sorry for him.” She speaks as if I'm not right in the car with them. Her voice is filled with disgust and anger. Damn, Viola’s hatred runs deep.
I clear my throat. “What little Miss Goody Two-shoes forgot to mention is that her friends came ontome.While she made crude rumors about me and buried her head in a book every Friday night, I was kicking ass playing sports and actually having a life.”
“Banging every girl on the cheer squad doesn't mean you had a life. Means you had low standards and were easy.”
“I bangedyou,” I counter. “What's that say?”
Courtney nearly dies from laughter, her eyes widening and cheeks reddening. I'm sure this is probably the worst timing for a fight with Viola, but Courtney seems to be enjoying the show.
Just then, we pull into the office parking lot, and I can practically see steam coming from Viola’s ears. Yeah, she's pissed all right.
Just as I'm about to swing my door open, Courtney looks at her phone and shouts for me to wait.
“Shoot, my boss wants me to swing by really quick to discuss my work schedule.”
I can see part of her phone screen, which is completely blank by the way, and know she’s full of shit.
“Would you mind if I dropped you both off here and have Travis take you home?” She must be in acting classes or something because she's laying it on thick, and Viola’s following every word of it. “I'm so sorry.” She pouts out her lower lip.
I pull the door lever and push my door open. “Let's go, V. Ass, cash, or grass. Nobody rides for free!” I smile at the scowl she flashes me.
“That's not what Lacey Benkins told me freshman year!” she yells as she gets out, slamming the door behind her.
“Well, I've become a better businessman since then.” I wink, loving the way it drives her mad. I grab my compressor from the back and thank Courtney for the lift.
“Can we just get this over with?” Viola stands with her arms crossed.
“What's the rush? Your vibrator getting lonely?”
I set the compressor down to the first tire and start setting up. As soon as I turn it on, it drowns out Viola’s next words.
Ten minutes later, all four tires are filled back up. I find the valve caps in my center console. Either Alyssa is more stupid than I thought, or her real intention was just to piss me off enough to make a point.
Either way, I toss the compressor into my trunk and walk to the driver’s seat where I find Viola sitting.
“Not in a million years,” I say, whipping the door open.
“Why not?” she asks, her palms wrapped tightly around the wheel.
