The Chemistry Test

13. bloody fists and surf lingo

Day Seven

"Well, isn't this cute? The whole gang is here." Damon flashed us a sadistic smile.  His eyes locked with Mark's for a hatred-filled, heavy moment before shimmering with sardonic contempt.

"Lisp, always nice seeing you." He sneered at Mark, evil intent swimming in the black pools of his eyes.

Mark's face contorted with disgust before hocking a loogie and grabbing both of mine and Hunter's forearms.

"Zoe, Hunter, a word."

"We'll be right back." Hunter glanced at the giant, who nodded dismissively. We weaved through the masses of families and businessmen until we were well out of earshot.

"Why the hell would you invite him?" Mark spat.  If it was anyone else I would have expected Mark to throw more of a fit, but Hunter was a difficult person to be angry with, seeing as all he did was smile at the two of us.

"Simmer, man. The guy seems lonely." He looked over to where Damon stood across from Gwyn, who flipped her bleach-blonde locks over her shoulder and giggled up at him in a manner that seemed a bit too friendly.

"The guy is a douche." Mark retorted, his voice rising a little. He seemed to realize the difference in tone and cleared his throat before turning to me. "Back me up."

"Well," I started, my gaze flickering between the boys on either side of me. Mark raised an expectant eyebrow, silently challenging me to vouch for him. "I don't like that he's here, but it'd be really mean if we told him to leave."

"Besides," Hunter reasoned, his tone apprehensive as to not further upset Mark. "Even if we did, there's too many people around. It'd stir up commotion."

"It is an open invite." I admitted quietly.

"Exactly." Hunter turned his palm upwards in my direction.

Mark exhaled an aggravated sigh, looking between the two of us and Damon and Gwyn. He nibbled at his lip piercing for a few moments, still unconvinced.

"Hey," I mused, an idea popping into my head. "We are actors in training, after all. This could be a good acting exercise. Chemistry test 2.0"

Mark puckered his lips, a hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Okay." He nodded.

"Sweet." Hunter flashed a pearly white smile.

Mark popped a couple of his knuckles and rolled his shoulders. "Let's get on with it, then."

--

"And then I was like, 'look's like someone had too much to drink'. " Gwyn giggled over at Mark next to her.  His exasperation inferred he'd heard it multiple times, as if Gwyn spoke of his drunkenness often.

"Ha. Ha." His head bobbed side to side, the rest of us sharing a laugh.

My gaze flickered over to Damon, who'd been silent since we'd gotten our food from the barbecue line and sat down at one of the ornately decorated outdoor tables, laden with a white lace tablecloth and wine glasses. His black eyes flickered over everyone at our table, until they latched onto Mark and glinted in curiosity.

"If we're telling embarrassing stories, I've got quite a few about Gwynny here." Mark smirked. I flinched at the sarcastic nickname he'd used for her, and the spicy undertone beneath it. Mark wasn't one for nicknames; it had to have been part of his façade, considering that he hadn't barked at Damon the entire evening.

Gwyn offered a nervous chuckle, her full pink lips stretched into a threateningly wide smile. "Oh, sweetie pie, you better not."

"Well, honey bear, it's only fair." Mark chuckled, raising a can of Pepsi to his lips. Again, I cringed. It was definitely a façade.