Chapter 3
Her cheeks were flushed, and she was practically draped over Ethan, her eyes glazed and feverish.
She was the star of the night, the biggest winner of them all.
About to marry Ethan and become the envied Mrs. Hale, she was floating a good few inches above the ground.
"Come on, come on. Next round." Simon Morris, their old class president, slurred, egging everyone on.
"Who's it landing on this time?" Simon asked.
The empty bottle spun across the polished marble tabletop, letting out a screech that set my teeth on edge.
Everyone held their breath, eyes locked on the neck of the bottle.
Slowly, it came to a stop.
The mouth was pointing straight at Lena.
"Whoa." someone crowed. "Our prom queen hit the jackpot."
"Truth or dare?" another asked.
Lena giggled and waved a lazy hand, eyes half-shut. "This girl picks truth. There's nothing I'm afraid to say."
Simon rubbed his hands together with a wicked grin, his eyes flicking back and forth between me and Lena. He was clearly angling to stir something up.
"All right, let's make this a good one," he said. "Lena, what's the rottenest, most guilt-ridden thing you've ever done in your life?"
The question knocked the noise in the room down a notch.
They were all adults. Everyone had skeletons they didn't want dragged out.
But the whole point of the game was the thrill of watching it happen anyway.
Ethan had been resting off to the side with his eyes closed. At the question, he only opened his eyes lazily. He made no move to stop the game.
Ethan thought, 'Lena is a sweet, sheltered rich girl. Spoiled, maybe, but incapable of anything truly cruel.'
Lena hiccupped. Her gaze suddenly cut across the crowd and settled on me, quietly refilling a guest's glass in the corner.
A malicious smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
The alcohol had dulled her brain and dialed up every ounce of jealousy and spite buried inside her.
"The rottenest thing, huh…" Lena murmured.
She wobbled to her feet, finger jabbing straight at me.
"It was that thunderstorm night seven years ago. I went over to Ethan's rental looking for him..." Lena said.
At the words "seven years ago," my hand jerked. The hot water in the pitcher almost sloshed over.
Ethan's body went subtly rigid too.
Lena was laughing so hard her whole body shook, as if she were telling the funniest joke in the world.
Lena went on, "So Ethan was in the shower, and his phone was sitting on the table. Guess who picked that exact moment to text? That broke little charity case, Nora Vance."
"Guess what she wrote?" Lena laughed. "She said: [Ethan, please save my dad. I'm begging you. I only need 16,700 dollars... I'll spend the rest of my life paying you back.]"
"Tsk, tsk. So pathetic. So pitiful," Lena sneered.
"And all I could think was, Ethan is way too good for this. How could someone like him get stuck with some broke deadweight? He belonged with me, with bigger things. Not dragged into the gutter by trash like that," Lena said.
"So..." She paused, her eyes flashing with something manic.
Lena said, "I typed a reply back for him."
Lena went on, "I deleted her sad little cry for help, then sent a reply in Ethan's voice: [Get lost. Don't bother me.]"
Lena laughed. "That broke girl waited in the rain all night. I watched her get soaked like a stray dog, kneel in the mud, and sob. I nearly died laughing."
"Come on, tell me I didn't do him a favor. Without that little move, how would Ethan have shaken the dead weight loose? How would he ever have gotten to where he is now? Ethan, you should be thanking me..." Lena went on.
Lena hadn't even finished her sentence when a sharp, crystalline crack cut through the room.
The wineglass in Ethan's hand had shattered in his grip.
Shards drove deep into his palm. Blood mixed with red wine, trickling through his fingers and dripping onto the white tablecloth. It was hard to look at.
But he didn't seem to feel a thing.
He stared at Lena. Those eyes, cold a moment ago, were shot through with red.
"What did you say?" Ethan demanded.
Lena still hadn't caught on. She was preening. "I said I got rid of that broke—"