The Switch

Chapter 5

Ivy

The fluorescent lights in Lolita's buzz overhead as I stir my milkshake, trying to focus on the pointless conversation going on around me. Jude's laughing too loudly at something one of his friends said, his arm draped possessively over the back of my chair, and I feel the weight of his touch like a brand.

Bianca's dangling on the arm of some football player —her candy of the week— giggling at something unfunny, and a few others hover around the table, crowding in, their laughter echoing off the checkered walls of Lolita's diner.

They're too close, making me feel sticky and claustrophobic, and I swallow the urge to shove Jude's arm off and make a scene.

But I won't.

I never do, and that's why Jude feels so comfortable pulling this shit. Why he showed up with his entourage tonight, wedging himself into my space like he has a right to it. He's been doing this for weeks now— sitting beside me at lunch, hovering over me in the halls at school, acting like I'm something to be claimed or tamed.

And I let him, I guess, because it's easier to pretend that I don't care, easier to keep up the facade than admit that every time he touches me, I feel another piece of myself slipping away.

"...right, Ivy?"

I look up then, forcing a smile that feels like plastic on my face. "What?" I blink at Corry, who's draped over her boyfriend, and take a sip of my milkshake, the sweetness doing nothing to mask the bitterness crawling up my throat.

"I was telling everyone how we plan on matching for Halloween this year." She twirls her blonde ponytail around, flashing that wide, fake grin. "Something slutty."

"Slutty nurses would be so hot," Her boyfriend chimes in, leering like it's the most original idea he's ever had.

"Overrated," I shake my head. "Besides, how many variations of fishnets and short skirts can this town handle before it gets old?"

Corry pouts, like I've just ruined her grand revelation, and I can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. She clearly thinks I'm a killjoy, a stuck up bitch who's too hard to please, but she won't say that. No, instead, she'll nod, just like she's doing now, and murmur, "No, you're right."

Because that's what everyone does around here.

Kiss my ass because I'm Ivy Trent, the girl they all secretly wish they could be or, for the very least, could prove they're better than. I set the rules, even if I can't stand the game we're playing. And they all follow along, pretending my approval matters, and they'll cling to me until I decide they're no longer worth my time.

It's all one big dance, a power trip that never ends, and deep down, I'm eager to see which one of us will break first.

Jude's thumb brushes the back of my neck, a possessive stroke that sends a wave of nausea rolling through me. The burger and fries I ate earlier threaten to make a reappearance, and I swallow hard, forcing myself to keep it down.

I turn my gaze toward the door, desperate for something— anything, to shatter this suffocating bubble that's closing in around me.

When the door swings open a second later, I grip my milkshake tighter, feeling the unmistakable shift ripple through the room and snatch the air right out of my lungs.

Every head in the diner turns to look, watching as Abel Dietrichson steps through the door with that unsettling, silent confidence, Greyson trailing just behind him.

Everyone at our table falls silent, and I shift uncomfortably as the air thickens with a tension that wasn't there a moment ago. There's an edge to those guys that can't be ignored, one that wraps around the room like smoke.