Foes & Cons by Carrie Aarons (english books to improve english txt) 📕

the fuck out! This is my house! If you want to slum it with some loser whose tits are saggy, you’re not going to do it on my property!”

The whole party just heard her, and I can hear the laughter even through the closed doors. I never wanted to punch a girl more in my entire life.

It takes me ten seconds of furious breaths in and out of my nose to collect myself enough to turn around and check on Blair. She’s going to be reeling from this, this is going to humiliate her. I don’t want to add to that. As gently as I can, I turn around.

“Are you okay?” I say into the dark, trying to move toward her again.

When my eyes finally adjust to the room again, I see her moving at hyper speed.

“You set me up.” Blair whips her bra off the floor and jams it over her head.

Everything in her radiates shame, and I know she is convinced I did this. Why wouldn’t she be with everything I’ve done to her before?

But I take her hands in mine, even though I’m quite sure it’ll get me slapped. “Blair, listen, I would never—”

“I never should have believed you. Believed in this! God, how stupid can I be?” She shakes her head, replacing the sweater I shed from her torso.

Desperation swamps me. “I destroyed the phone! Why would I do that if I set you up?”

“You think I’m a goddamn idiot, don’t you? Did you snicker to your little popular crew about me? Did you all get a good laugh at my expense?”

Blair is spitting venom now, and I want to tear this house apart in fury. Just when we found a bit of trust, just when I thought we could get past this, the universe and an asshole teenage girl fucks it up.

I try to reach for her, but she dodges me. “B, I would never do that to you. I … I want this. I want us. Please, don’t do this. This is what Hailey wants.”

If there weren’t alcohol in her system, maybe she’d be viewing this with a clearer head. But I can see it in her eyes, she’s spiraling. I’m still the villain in her story, and tonight was a mistake for her. My heart aches to stop this, to end the roller coaster and get off holding her hand.

“No, this is what I get for trusting you. It’s just like it’s always been; I’m too much of a consequence for you, Sawyer. You want me in the dark, where no one can witness us together. You and I will never exist in the light as anything more than enemies. That’s what you and your little stunt just proved.”

She stalks out, slamming the door behind her, and I don’t go after her. There is nothing left to say tonight, and I know it won’t make a difference. Blair is too far gone in her own nightmare to listen to me.

“Happy freaking New Year,” I grumble to the empty room, hoping to everything holy that this is not the way the next twelve months goes.

26

Blair

As if the stunt on New Year’s isn’t enough to send me into a tailspin of sadness and distrust, Mom shows up two days later.

About ten days after she originally promised she’d spend Christmas with Dad and me, mother dearest floats into town with her designer luggage, Lululemon yoga chic outfit, and thousand-dollar sunglasses. I know that’s how much they cost, because she flat-out told me.

The first day she arrived, she whirled around our house as if she still lived there. Dad built it for them about three years into their marriage, right before I was born, and I know she had a hand in some of the layout and design. But for her to claim it as her territory, the way she has been subtly doing for the last twenty-four hours, is bullshit. I want to scream that she hasn’t lived here in years, much less given a damn about her family who had, but it wasn’t worth it.

Confronting a narcissist about their behavior is a surefire way to get gaslit. They are never going to admit their faults, so you either have to feel crazy in silence or face the consequences of the victim blaming if you do bring up the elephant in the room.

“I can’t believe you let her stay here,” I grumble at Dad, probably for the fourth or fifth time since my mother arrived.

He sighs, but I can tell it’s more tense than his usual demeanor about her. “I … don’t know.”

Something has shifted in Dad’s attitude toward her since she arrived. It’s like, during this visit, he’s finally seeing how much of a monster she really is. I can tell that with every story about her grand adventures, with every question she doesn’t ask me, with every hour of time spent taking selfies or uploading stories to Instagram, Dad is growing more and more annoyed.

I tried to tell him before, but I’ll take this. Perhaps the rose-colored glasses are finally off.

“When is she leaving?” I ask.

“She didn’t say. You start school back in two days, so deal with it for now. We don’t know when she’ll be back.” He stares off out the window over the kitchen sink, looking pensive.

We’re in the kitchen together, grazing for food. It’s our usual weekend lunchtime routine, because we both aren’t big sandwich or salad people. Like father, like daughter.

Mom walks in, having spent the entire morning in the guest room doing God knows what instead of spending any quality time with me, her only child.

Her hair, which used to be the same shade as mine but is now done in that fake gray that people think is cool for some reason, is blown out to perfection. She has fake lashes on, which I think she glued on herself because those weren’t there last night. The lime-green workout capris and matching long sleeve crop top are