RINA'S POV
TEN YEARS PRIOR
Monday morning passed by at a snail's pace. By the time I'd taken my usual spot in the corner of the cafeteria, my attention span was waning. Jenny, the only friend I'd managed to make in the two months I'd been at Wellsprings High School had not yet arrived. Her gym class was right before our shared lunch period, and some days she spent longer changing than others.
I unwrapped the turkey sandwich Monica had packed me—crust cut off just like always, though I never asked her to do so—when a shadow fell over me. I looked up, expecting to see Jenny's heavily lined eyes. Instead, I saw Easton. His eyes were shadowy and dark, his cheeks hollow, and his hoodie and jeans looked unusually unkempt.
"What do you want?" I asked, taking a bite of my sandwich.
"I just wanted to apologize about yesterday."
"I already saw your email," I said flatly, licking a drop off mustard off lip. Ethan's attention homed in on my tongue just long enough for me to notice. My lips turned up in disgust.
"I figured it was something I should also say in person."
"Okay, cool. Well, you've apologized. You can go back to your friends now," I snapped, gesturing towards his usual table.
"You're not even going to accept my apology?" He asked, eyebrows raised.
"If I accept it, will you go away?"
"Maybe."
"Great, apology accepted. Buh-bye, now." I made a point to emphasize my accent just a little extra in case he'd forgotten the Deliverance comparison he'd made before.
He raised his eyebrows at me. "You don't sound very sincere."
"Oh, I'm not. I just wanted you to leave."
Instead of leaving, he sat down across from me, stealing one of my potato chips and meeting my gaze with a defiant smirk. "How about you give me a chance to give you a proper apology?"
"Unless your apology involves a monetary donation, I'm not interested," I snarled. "Go eat your own lunch elsewhere."
He ignored me, saying instead, "Let me take you to homecoming." He met my gaze with an intense expression, like he was searching for an immediate reaction. And I had one, but unfortunately for him, it was a snort.
"You can't be serious," I laughed, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms over my chest.
"As a heart attack," he said, offering me his signature smirk.
"Absolutely not."
"Why not? You're planning on going, right?"
"If I were going to homecoming, you are the absolute last person I would go with," I snapped. "Genuinely, Easton, I do not know how someone who grew up with as many resources as you did turned out to be so dense."
"So did somebody already ask you or something?" He asked, his voice unusually cold, even for him.
"No, no one asked me." Easton seemed to relax at my answer, but he still made no move to leave.
"Then go with me."
"So you can pour a bucket of pig's blood on my head as soon as I walk in? I don't think so."
"Don't you think you owe me one for tattling on me to your foster mom?" He challenged, raising his eyebrows like he was mocking me.
I narrowed my eyes at him, lowering my voice. "If I wanted to really tattle on you, I could have squealed to Monica about what I saw in the locker room. But I didn't. You should be the one thanking me."
"I can thank you by taking you to the dance," he persisted. I ignored him, taking another bite of my sandwich. When I didn't respond, his face pinched in annoyance and he continued, "What's the matter? Did Good Will not have a dress in your size? I'm sure Monica would buy you one. I'm assuming she bought the rest of your new wardrobe, right?"
And there it was. The angle. The game. I'd figured out his pattern the night before: he'd pretend to be sincere just long enough to segway smoothly into an insult. And I hated how well it worked, how angry he could make me with just a few words. I wanted to slap him across the face again, just like I'd done at the party, but he wasn't worth getting suspended over.
I laughed under my breath, pulling out the bottle of water Monica always packed me. I could feel my face get hot, that flush of anger turning my skin crimson. It was egging me on as I opened the bottle, stood up, and dumped it over his head.
It was like the whole world got quiet the second the water hit him, every head turning in our direction as Easton shouted out, "What the hell!"
"You seemed a little thirsty, Easton," I taunted.
He stood up in a rage, and for a moment I thought he was going to hit me, but he just wiped the water from his eyes and looked at me like he wanted me to drop dead. "All I did was ask you to a dance," he exclaimed, his voice booming in the dead silence of the cafeteria. It was evident he was trying to paint me as the bad guy in front of our unwitting audience, but I didn't care enough to correct him.
"Maybe next time you'll listen to me when I tell you to leave me alone," I snarled, grabbing my backpack, and exiting the cafeteria without another word.