“What do you want it for?”
“To buy clothes.”
“You have them.” He gestures toward the closet.
“And I’m going to torch these and buy new ones, okay?” Anger and impatience make me ruder than I mean to be. “I don’t see why it’s a big deal that I want to shop. Girls are supposed to like to shop.”
Easton studies me with shiny eyes that are far more intuitive than I give him credit for. “You’re not a regular girl, Ella. So yeah, it’s weird, but I’m putting it together. Brooke bought these clothes. You hate Brooke. These clothes gotta go.”
I cross my arms. “Did Reed tell you or have you known all along?”
“He just told me,” Easton admits.
“Good news. Your balls have been saved.” I push him out of the way and grab a pair of sneakers.
I’m going to build a new life, starting today. It won’t include guys who sleep with their dad’s girlfriends and romance their stepsister on the side. I will also cut any bitch who tries something with me.
Good thing bitch number one, Jordan, is at school today, or I might shove her into her pool with some rocks tied around her neck.
“You have a mean look on your face. It’s crazy hot. Promise me you’ll let me orgasm before you kill me?” Easton jokes.
“You’re going to get slapped very hard by someone someday.”
“I know you mean that as a threat, but honestly I can’t wait. Sounds like a good time.”
Whatever girl takes on Easton is going to have to hold a whip in one hand and a pistol in the other. I think he’s uncontrollable, though.
I pick up the key fob of my gorgeous custom-painted convertible. I’d been really sad to leave that baby behind.
“You think Val will have some food for me?” Easton asks. “I’m getting hungry again.”
“Go downstairs then, because you’re not coming with me.”
“Then it’s gonna be Reed.”
I stop at my bedroom door. “What’re you talking about?”
“Dad’s worried you’re going to skate again, so one of us is on you at all times. Good news is, you get to piss by yourself, but there’s an alarm on your window.”
I throw my keys on the dresser and stalk into the bathroom.
“See the red sensors here?” Easton leans forward and points out two tiny pinpoints of light in the casing of the window. “Dad’ll get a text message if you open it. So who’s going with you to Val’s? Me or Reed?”
“This is insane.” I shake my head. “Fine, let’s go.”
Easton obediently follows me down the stairs and out into the carport. I’m not in the mood to talk, but he has other ideas as I drive through the huge gates.
“I’m the one who should be pissed off. You ran off without a word. I was worried. You could’ve been killed or something.”
I’ve already had this conversation with Reed, thank you. “Seems like I’m not the only one you’re mad at. What’s with you and the twins glaring at Reed during breakfast?”
“He’s being a dick.”
“You’re just now discovering this?”
Easton stares at his sneakers when he answers. “It didn’t matter before.”
There’s no point in responding. Besides, the Carringtons live less than ten minutes away and I’m already pulling into their driveway. I spot Val at the back door and she doesn’t look happy.
“What’s wrong?” I ask when we reach her.
She nods toward Easton. “What’s he doing here?”
“Sorry, one Royal has to be with Ella at all times,” he says. “Dad’s orders.”
Val looks at me incredulously. “For real?”
“No idea, but I promise you if I could’ve left Easton at home, I totally would have.”
“Hey, you’re hurting my feelings,” he protests.
And because that might be true, I plead with Val. “He’s not going to say anything.”
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Just get in here.”
“Got anything to eat?” Easton asks as we pass through the kitchen.
“Help yourself.” She waves a hand toward the counter that’s topped by a cornucopia of fruit and a cake underneath a glass case. “You can stay here. Ella and I need alone time.”
“Aw no. I want to come with you.” Easton leans past me. “Ella told me you guys were testing the absorbency of maxi pads. I’m interested in that myself.”
Val gives me a confused look.
“Easton, please. Give us just ten minutes by ourselves,” I beg.
“Fine, but I’m eating this entire cake.”
“Knock yourself out, champ,” Val says as she drags me out onto the sun porch that runs the length of her house.
The Carrington place is a true southern mansion with big porches, fluted columns, and a lawn that looks like it’s cut by hand. I imagine years ago the ladies of the house sat on rocking chairs in big dresses and with lace gloved hands holding painted fans, saying things like “My land.” I may have watched Gone With the Wind one too many times.