Twisted Love (Twisted, #1)(15)

“Okay,” Blondie squeaked.

The bathroom door opened. Ava brushed past me and said something to Blondie in a low voice. He nodded. She placed a hand on his arm, and my jaw ticked.

“Let’s go.” The words came out sharper than I’d intended.

Ava finally looked at me, her eyes flashing. “We’ll go when I’m ready.”

I didn’t know how Josh dealt with her all these years. Two weeks in, and I already wanted to strangle her.

She murmured something else to Blondie before she stalked past me without another word. Jules followed, still grinning.

I cast one last glare in Blondie’s direction before I left.

Silence permeated the car as we drove back to Thayer. Jules sat in the backseat, tapping away on her phone, while a stone-faced Ava stared out the window from the passenger seat, her shoulders tight.

I didn’t mind silence. I craved it. There were few things I found more irritating than incessant, pointless conversation. The weather, the latest blockbuster, who broke up with who…who the fuck cared?

Still, something compelled me to turn on the radio halfway through the drive, though I left the volume so low I almost couldn’t hear the music.

“It was for your own good,” I said over the teeny-tiny beats of the latest rap hit.

Ava turned her body further away and didn’t respond.

Fine. She could be mad all she wanted. The only thing I regretted was not smashing Blondie’s camera altogether.

It wasn’t like I cared about her silent treatment. Not one bit.





6





Ava





“…Then said, never ask Ava to do something like this again, or I will murder you and your entire family,” Jules finished dramatically before taking a sip of her caramel mocha.

“Shut up.” Stella leaned forward, her eyes wide. “He did not say that.”

“No, he didn’t.” I shot Jules a disapproving look. “Stop exaggerating.”

“How would you know? You were in the bathroom,” she countered. When my frown deepened, she sighed. “Fine. He didn’t say those exact words—at least, not the last part—but the general idea was the same. He did warn Owen away from you though.” Jules ripped off a piece of her cranberry scone and popped it in her mouth.

“Poor Owen.” Guilt niggled at me as I traced absentminded patterns on the table. Jules, Stella, Bridget, and I were at The Morning Roast for our weekly Tuesday coffee catch-up, and Jules had been regaling the other girls with a hyperbolized account of what happened at Owen’s house on Saturday. “I wish he hadn’t gotten dragged into this. All those hours of shooting, gone.”

I worked with Owen at the McCann Gallery, where I’d served as a gallery assistant for the past year and a half. My father had never said outright he disapproved of me pursuing a photography career, but he’d made it clear that he wouldn’t fund any of my equipment. He paid for my tuition and other school-related expenses, but if I wanted a new lens, camera, or even a tripod? That was all me.

I tried not to let his unspoken disapproval bother me. I was beyond lucky I’d graduate with no student loan debt, and I wasn’t afraid of hard work. The fact I’d shelled out my own money for every piece of equipment made me cherish them a little more, and I enjoyed my job at McCann. It was one of the most prestigious photography galleries in the Northeast, and I loved my coworkers, though I wasn’t sure whether Owen would want anything more to do with me after what Alex had done.

Even now, my skin heated with anger at the memory of his overbearing attitude.

I couldn’t believe he’d had the gall to show up and boss me around like that. To threaten my friend. To act like I was a…a servant or his employee. Even Josh had never gone that far.

I stabbed at my yogurt with my fork, furious.

“Sounds like I missed an interesting time.” Bridget sighed. “All the fun stuff happens while I’m away.”

Bridget had been attending an event at Eldorra’s New York consulate, as was required of the Princess of Eldorra.

That’s right. She was an honest-to-God, real-life princess, second in line to the throne of a small but wealthy European country. She looked the part, too. With her golden hair, deep blue eyes, and elegant bone structure, she could’ve passed for a young Grace Kelly.

I hadn’t known who Bridget was when she, Jules, Stella, and I found ourselves assigned to the same suite freshman year. Besides, I would’ve expected a freakin’ princess to have a private room.

But that was the great thing about Bridget. Despite her insane upbringing, she was one of the most down-to-earth people I’d ever met. She never pulled rank, and she insisted on living life as a normal college student whenever she could. In that sense, Thayer was the best fit for her. Thanks to its proximity to D.C. and its world-class international politics program, the campus swarmed with political offspring and international royalty. Just the other day, I’d overheard the son of the Speaker of the House and the crown prince of a controversial oil kingdom arguing over video games.

You can’t make that stuff up.

“Trust me, it was not fun,” I grumbled. “It was humiliating. And I owe Owen a dinner, at least.”

My phone flashed with a new text. Liam. Again.