Her Spite: A Reverse Harem Bully Romance (The Forgotten Elites Book 2) by Eden Beck (best adventure books to read .TXT) 📗

There’s still sarcasm in her voice, but I’m not fooled. There’s relief there too. Warren was right, but I still think it’s a bad idea.

There’s just always so much that can go wrong when you throw Bridget into the mix.

“At least you’re not thinking about taking Aubrey,” she says. “Not that I really thought that you would stoop that low, but then again you have been acting a bit oddly lately.”

“Sterling is taking Aubrey,” Warren says. “You know that.”

As soon as I hear him say it, I think we both wish that he hadn’t. Bridget makes an audible sound of frustration that is a cross between a sigh and a grunt. Before she can say anything about it, Warren quickly turns the subject away from the fact that the guy Bridget has a huge crush on asked me to the gala instead of her. Or at least, as far as she knows.

“Besides,” Warren says as he lays on another thick layer of charm, “I thought it would be nice for you and me to go together. It’s been a while since we did something together.”

There is a moment of silence before she agrees to go with him. I can almost hear the smile in her voice. It’s strange how much she seems to rely on Warren for her emotional security, even though she would never admit to it.

I guess if your parents are detached, you latch on to whoever is closest to you. It would explain why Warren puts up with her too.

I watch as her shoes turn around to leave and her footsteps sound like they are getting further away. When I hear the door close, I slowly start to push myself out from under the bed. It’s no small task. It’s as if I somehow expanded or the bed got smaller while I was squeezed under it in hiding.

Eventually, Warren sees my struggle and reaches a hand down to help pull me out and up to a standing position, and then helps to brush all of the dust bunnies off from my clothes and pick them out of my hair. My white shirt is so streaked with dirt, I doubt even the laundry service here will be able to get the stains out.

“Well, that could have gone worse,” he says.

“Says the guy that wasn’t crammed under the bed,” I say as I start sneezing from all the dust.

Warren chuckles sympathetically and leans forward to give me a small kiss on my temple, and suddenly I forget about being under the bed and about almost getting caught by Bridget. The only thing that I can think about is the feeling of his lips on my face.

I wish, for just a second that I could stay here forever.

I might be surrounded by uncertainty, but for a few precious moments everything else around me seems to fade away. The shame that brought me here, the bullying of last term, the complexities of this relationship between Warren, Chase, and Sterling, even my own simmering revenge against Bridget … it all seems so small and insignificant.

Chapter Twenty

If only my problems could stay so small and insignificant forever, but at long last, the night of the gala arrives.

So much is riding on this one night. My entire future here at Ridgecrest could be overturned if I just manage to say the right things to the right people.

Or nothing could change at all.

And quite frankly at this point—I’m not one hundred percent sure which one I’m hoping for anymore.

The hours somehow both drag on and speed by at the same time. Before I know it, I’m dressed in a gown borrowed from a helpful—if the tiniest bit resentful—Alaska and heading to the main hall. I couldn’t bring myself to wear one of Bridget’s dresses. I want tonight to be a fresh start, whatever happens, and wearing something of hers seems just a bit counterintuitive to that.

I get the slightest shudder of shame when I think of some of the things I did to her over the last few months.

I thought I was getting even, but it was more than that. I started to take it too far, way too far.

And all just out of spite.

I’m better than that.

I can do better than that.

The gala is absolutely everything that I expected it to be when I arrive, and more. They hold it in the main hall, an impressive place on a typical day, but even more so now that it’s been filled with long rows of tables and chairs for people to sit and eat and drink at, and festive music is being played by a live quintet of musicians. It’s obvious that they have spared no expense. Even the decorations are impeccable. The entire hall has been turned into a winter wonderland, with strings of sparking white lights, a huge ice sculpture that was brought in and looks like it cost a sizeable amount, and an entire backdrop of blue and white décor that looks like a winter landscape complete with paper snowflakes.

Whoever is in in charge of their decorating committee should be commended, but then again, I guess when the parents pay a small fortune in tuition to send their kids here, throwing a well-decorated party once a year is well within Ridgecrest’s means.

Bridget said a couple of words to me before I left to go get ready with Alaska, but not nearly as much as I expected her to. And nothing close to what I expected her to say.

She was almost civil.

So civil, in fact, that I don’t know whether or not I should be worried.

But then again, she probably didn’t want to risk having to hear anything about Sterling being my date to the gala. If I was her, I would have stayed quiet too.

Still, because the universe seems determined to hate me, Bridget and I somehow manage to arrive at the entrance to the main hall at exactly the same time. She doesn’t waste