P.S. I Hate You by Winter Renshaw

Author:Winter Renshaw [Renshaw, Winter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-03-26T05:00:00+00:00

“Before I forget,” Uncle Vic says at dinner that night, “I ran into Ford Hawthorne earlier. Invited him over for dinner this Friday.”

I almost choke on my mashed potatoes before reaching for my glass of water.

“Wonderful! I’d love to finally meet him. Bree talks about him so much, I feel like I already know him, but I’ve been dying to put a face with that name.” Aunt Tab flitters about. She’ll do just about anything for a chance to play hostess.

“I have a date that night,” I say.

Bree’s attention lands on me, though she says nothing.

“You’re still seeing that Bennett boy?” Tab asks. “He seems very nice. We’d love to meet him sometime. You should bring him over for dinner! You could eat here and then afterwards, have your little date.”

I mean, I hadn’t decided if I was going to forgive him yet, but I’m not in the mood to explain the intricacies of the past week to my aunt and uncle over a plate of quiche Lorraine.

“That’s a great idea.” Vic nods. “Bree, you’re awfully quiet over there.”

“I have a headache. May I please be excused?” she asks, monotone.

“Of course, darling.” Tab places her hand over Bree’s.

I’m finished as well, so I excuse myself, only by the time I round the corner by the front door, Bree’s standing at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed.

“I saw you come home Saturday morning,” she says, lips puckered like the asshole she is.

“So?”

“You weren’t walking from Emily’s house. You were coming from a different direction.”

“And your point?”

Bree huffs. “You lied about where you were that night.”

“You lie about shit all the time.” I point at her chest. “Your entire fucking bra situation is a lie.”

She covers her chest, jaw hanging, and I push past her, heading up to my room, but she follows.

“I’m going to find out what you’re up to.”

“Is that a threat?” I ask, keeping my voice down. “Because you don’t want to go there with me.” Stepping back, I smirk. “Wait, this is about Thane. You’re jealous.”

Duh.

“No, I’m not,” she says, chin tilted up.

“You are so jealous.” Chuckling, I shake my head. “Doesn’t quite make up for the money you stole from me, but it’s somewhat vindicating.”

“I stopped liking Thane years ago, when he dated one of my best friends. We don’t double dip in my group.” Her nose lifts in the air.

“Best Friend? As in one of those girls you follow around like a lost puppy because you don’t actually have any real friends because you’re a boring little poser that nobody wants to hang out with?”

“I have friends,” she says, her words staccato and brusque, like she’s trying to convince herself as well.

“How come you don’t ever hang out with them outside the cafeteria? Why aren’t they blowing up your phone on the weekends?”

Her eyes water and her slender lips quiver. For a sliver of a second, I see Bree as a human being with feelings and not a humanoid Stepford daughter with a heart as black as coal.

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