Hendrix leans over the table and takes a bite of toast, looking up at me with a crooked grin. "I just thought you might have missed me, is all."
"What the hell would give you that impression?" I ask. Miss him? After the horrible things he said about me that night? The memory returns to the front of my thoughts, as if it happened yesterday, and anger rushes through me. Hendrix might sit here and pretend we're old buddies, good friends separated by a few years of life circumstance, but that's not true. I liked him, once upon a time. More than liked him. I loved him. And he hurt me.
"What?" he asks. "What did I say?"
"Nothing," I say, pushing away my plate and standing up with my coffee. "Absolutely nothing. I'm not hungry anymore." I start to walk away, but pause before I go. "And put on a damn shirt."
CHAPTER SIX
HENDRIX
SIX YEARS, TEN MONTHS AGO
"What are you doing?" I look up to see Addison walking toward me. I can't decide if I'm pleased or irritated with that fact, since I came out here specifically to avoid my new Stepford family, especially the singing blonde member of said family. Except that Addison looks hot as hell, even if she's wearing khaki slacks and a salmon-colored blouse that belongs on a middle-aged woman. And pearls. Pearls, for shit's sake. She's fifteen, but she dresses like she's forty years old.
She's fifteen. I remind myself of that fact. I might only be sixteen, but she's younger than I am, too young. Even if she dresses like a soccer mom. I try to ignore how damn gorgeous she is, and steel my voice hard as she looks at me.
"What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?" I ask. Better for her to hate me than to get friendly with a fifteen-year-old girl.
"I'm not stupid," she says.
"Perfect little Addison has actually seen a real-life joint before?" I ask, my voice clipped. I'm edgy now that she's out here. Addison has this way of looking at me that makes me nervous, like she knows me better than she does. She looks at me as if she sees through me and all of my bullshit. I don't like it. "Color me fucking surprised."
She rolls her eyes, which should make her more annoying, but somehow makes her hotter. "I've seen a joint before," she says. "I've also seen guys like you, too, with your misunderstood Emo crap. It's not that unique, you know."
"Well, shit, you've got me," I say, an edge in my voice I don't try to hide. But it's not because I'm irritated. It's because I want to put my mouth on her and that's a bad idea. For a million reasons. And if there's one thing I've figured out in the past two months of being here, it's that Addison is something else. She doesn't screw around and she's not the kind of girl you just fuck around with. I hold out the joint. "Want a hit?"
Addison shakes her head, and I can't help but get in another dig at her. "Yeah, I thought so."
"Your father would probably have a heart attack if he caught you out here, you know," she says.
My father. She brings him up as if his opinion matters to me more than anything. "Why do you think I'm out here by the horse stable?" I ask. "Why are you out here, anyway? Stalker, much?"
Addison's cheeks flush red, and I note her embarrassment. She's easily embarrassed, but for some reason I don't find it annoying. I enjoy riling her up, which probably says something fucked up about me. "You're so full of yourself, Hendrix," she says. "I come out here sometimes, to get away. You're intruding on my space, jackass."
"Jackass, huh?" I laugh. "I didn't think a good little girl like you cursed. What the hell does America's country music sweetheart have to get away from? The private chef didn't cook your eggs the way you like them this morning?" I'm joking, but the part about the private chef is totally true. They have a private chef in this place. Ri-fucking-diculous.
She looks down at the ground and shrugs. "Nothing," she says. "Whatever. I have to get back to the house." She turns to look at me before she leaves, tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "We can be friends, you know. You don't have to be so mean. I know you're upset about moving here and stuff, but it would be cool to be friends."
I look at her for a long time and take another drag on the joint. She looks so earnest and fucking...nice...that for a second, I almost tell her that it would be cool to hang out with her. Then I remember that my father is an asshole and that I never asked to move to Nashville Tennessee and live with America's country sweetheart in this Stepford mansion and this Stepford neighborhood.
Still, I feel a pang of disgust with myself when I open my mouth to speak. "It would be cool if you sucked my dick, too, sweetheart."
Addison's face flushes scarlet, and she opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
"Exactly," I say. "So if you're not going to make yourself useful, then leave me the hell alone."