Insidious(7)

“Did you go to the game earlier?”

Reese shrugged. “I considered it, but then I started thinking of other excruciating things I’d rather do, like have a root canal, and I decided to pass.”

“You heading to the bonfire?” I tried again. He merely cocked a brow, and I realized how ridiculous I sounded. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t do anything fun. How could I forget?”

“If you call watching a bunch of drunken idiots gyrate around and trash a field while you suffocate from smoke inhalation ‘fun,’ then yes—I don’t like fun.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to be normal, ya’ know.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Haven’t tried it.”

“So, Mr. High and Mighty, what superior plans do you have this evening?”

“Test my alcohol limits, take off my clothes, and harass innocent bystanders.” He thumped the side of his head. “Oh, wait a minute. No, that’s your friends.”

“At least I have some.”

He stole a look outside and leered. “With friends like that, I consider myself grateful that I don’t.”

“Bite me.”

“I probably shouldn’t. Wouldn’t want to get rabies.”

“I beg to differ. Foaming at the mouth would probably be an improvement for you. Anything to get you to stop talking.”

He smirked. “Touché, Princess.”

My jaw impulsively clenched. How silly of me to think I could get through a conversation without him calling me that. I obviously did a horrible job at hiding my distain for the moniker, because he halfheartedly tried to bury his laugh, causing the front strands of his long, razor-cut coffee-brown locks to fall into his eyes as he looked down. And to think, I thought he was cute…once upon a time.

I still couldn’t figure out what the hell his problem was. The two of us met not long after I moved to town last June. I thought things had gone well, but I was obviously wrong, seeing as how anytime I saw him after that, he treated me more and more like a festering fungus. He actively went out of his way to avoid me—as in literally fleeing in the other direction—anytime I was with Carly and the others. So I took the hint and made an effort to keep my distance.

That cruel bitch otherwise known as Fate seemed to have other plans, as Reese and I were forced into becoming science partners for Physics come senior year. Then to add insult to injury, I joined the school paper, unbeknownst to me at the time that Reese was Belleview High’s chief photographer, not to mention a fellow journalist. He didn’t go out of his way to talk to anyone at school, and he seemed to prefer it that way. Except when it came to me, apparently. Nowadays, Reese never got tired of throwing shade at me for some inexplicable reason. The guy seemed incapable of having a civil exchange.

Oh, lucky me…

The bell above the doorway rang again. “So we’re good for tonight?” said Daniel.

I looked over to see his cell pressed against his ear just as the customer in front of me finished paying.

“Yeah, we’ll see you at the bonfire,” Daniel finished, lowering the phone as the call ended. He waved over at me. “Gotta get rollin’, Kat. The van’s cooled off, and Kelsey’s about to blow a gasket of her own if we don’t get a move on.”

“I’ll be there in a sec.” I handed over Carly’s crinkled money to the cashier, and the guy behind the counter laxly gathered my change. “Never the pleasure seeing you,” I remarked, turning to face Reese. All the color had suddenly drained from his face, and he even took a half step back as he returned my stare.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Kat, can you hurry it up?” called out Kelsey impatiently from outside the opened doorway. The girl seriously looked like she was about to burst a blood vessel, even from this distance.

“You heard the girl,” laughed Daniel, beckoning me to follow him.

Reese still stood there, looking back at me like I had spontaneously turned into a flesh eating zombie. When he didn’t respond, I self-consciously skulked away, muttering a quiet ‘bye’ under my breath before gathering my purchased items.

“What’s his deal?” whispered Daniel as I met him at the door.

“Hell if I know.”

We headed back out to the van, and I caught sight of Reese’s old beater truck parked a few spaces down from us. The thing had more rust on it than it did paint.

Carly waved her hands enthusiastically at the sight of the chips in my hands. “I’m open!”

I jokingly imitated a fake out before throwing one of the bags to her like it was a football.

She caught it, whaling out an animated, “Touchdown!”