Miss Mayhem (Rebel Belle #2)(27)

That was good. Bee and Ryan had always gotten along, and if anyone could bring him back around to Team Harper, it was Bee.

I watched them walk off, then gathered up the shopping bags Bee had left with me and trudged out to the parking lot.

To my surprise, David’s car was parked outside my house, and when I came in, Mom glanced up from the couch.

“There you are. David’s in your room. Said the two of you had some kind of school project to work on?”

“Oh, right,” I said, hanging my purse on the coatrack by the door next to my dad’s truly heinous University of Alabama jacket. “Totally forgot, I was out shopping with Bee.”

“Hope my American Express isn’t smoking,” Mom joked, and I pulled a face behind her back. I had indulged in a fair amount of retail therapy today.

As I jogged up the stairs, Mom called, “Door open, please!” and I rolled my eyes even as I called back, “Yes, ma’am!”

My parents had gotten pretty lenient with me and Ryan, I guess because they’d had a long time to get used to him. But something about David had made them hypervigilant on the propriety front, which was ironic, seeing as how me and David weren’t . . . doing those things yet. I mean, we wanted to, and it’s not like the subject hadn’t come up, but the timing had never been right, and now with the trials and the Ephors, I wasn’t sure when exactly things would get all consummated.

Certainly not now while my parents were downstairs, though. Gross.

When I pushed open my door, David was sitting in my desk chair, spinning idly. He stopped when he saw me, holding up his phone.

“So apparently you and Ryan caused a scandal at the Pine Grove Galleria today?”

Groaning, I dropped to the end of my bed. “It’s already on Facebook?”

“Yup.” He was looking at me from over the rims of his glasses, eyebrows raised. It was a familiar expression, and I’d always thought it was cute, but today, I wasn’t sure what it meant, exactly.

With an exaggerated wince, I leaned back and put my hands over my face. “That is so embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing as your shirt.”

I heard the chair creak and then felt something nudge my knees. When I lifted my hands, David was leaning over me, his hands braced on either side of my head. There was still some space between us, but if my parents had walked in right then, well, let’s just say David probably wouldn’t have been allowed in my room anymore.

I didn’t care. I let my hand rest on the back of his neck as he nuzzled the underside of my jaw.

“I happen to like this shirt.”

“You happen to like all sorts of ugly things,” I reminded him, even as I closed my eyes and let him dot kisses along the side of my neck. “That shirt, your car, like ninety-nine percent of your shoe collection—hey!”

I broke off laughing and rubbing the spot he’d poked on my ribs. “No fair,” I said, lifting my head to give him a quick kiss. “You know I can’t poke you back.”

Smiling, David eased off me and sat on the floor. I slid down, too, sitting next to him and linking our hands as we both leaned back against my bed.

“So you aren’t mad or jealous or weird?”

“I’m always weird,” he acknowledged with a twist of his lips. “But mad or jealous? Nah. What’s Ryan got that I don’t have? I mean other than height and fabulous hair and cheekbones carved from granite.”

I laughed and shook my head, tugging at his hair. “I like this. Most of the time.”

David’s lips brushed mine, briefly again, and I know I said I wouldn’t do anything with my parents right downstairs, but I’d be lying if I said, in that moment, I didn’t want to.

There were times things with David were weird—and I don’t mean the Oracle stuff. We’d spent all our lives arguing, so this sudden shift to coupledom had been a tough transition in some ways. But when it was only the two of us, hanging out alone, we almost felt normal.

He pulled back again, returning to his chair. “Anything else happen at the mall?”

“I might have figured out at least one of the trials,” I told him, handing over the flyer. “Same date as the last night of the moon cycle. Seems like a possibility, at least.”

David’s eyes scanned the paper. “They do seem to like picking big events for maximum damage, don’t they?” he murmured. He glanced up at me then, quirking an eyebrow. “Will you twirl a baton?” he asked. “Please promise me a baton will be involved. And, like, huge hair.”

I swatted at him. “You know I despise pageants. But I’m doing this for the greater good. And, hey”—I shrugged—“maybe it will make me look even more well rounded on my college applications.”

“Well, as long as that’s the only reason,” he said with a shudder, and a little sizzle of irritation buzzed through me.

“It’s not like the pageant is that big of a deal,” I told him. “And Bee wanted do it.”

That wiped the smirk off his face. Brows drawing together, he shifted so his elbows rested on his knees. “How is she? After the other day?”

I picked up one of the throw pillows from my bed, tugging at the embroidery. “She’s . . . okay. Obviously still shaken up and trying to come to terms with all of this.”