Sweet Like Revenge

37 - Hearts and Minds

"Who's the villain of the story?"

Sienna sat back on her European pillow, raising her copy of Monte Cristo to her face as though the book itself could whisper her the answer to Cameron's question. Kat's tactic was to take a long and considered sip of tea, a not-so-subtle way of buying herself some more time to think. Chontelle wasn't a part of our group project at all—she'd only crashed our meeting at Sienna's house to get out of hanging out with Kirsty at the mall—so she was enviably safe from the firing line.

I, meanwhile, had taken a secret vow of silence. It was part of my overall strategy for the night; lie low, bite my tongue, and stay the hell out of Cameron's peripheral.

He smiled softly through the awkward silence—that sweet, non-threatening smile that I knew was a mask—maintaining his civility despite the fact that it was the third time he'd tried (unsuccessfully) to provoke a discussion that night. A discussion about the assignment, that is—my three friends had no problem deep-diving into the latest episode of Love Island.

"Have you guys, uh ..." He ran a hand through his shaggy hair, his eyes darting between Sienna and Kat's blank faces. As far as I could tell, he was avoiding capturing my gaze, too. Good. "Have you ... read the book?"

"Sure we have," Sienna cooed sweetly. Beside her, though, Kat failed to produce the same kind of assurance.

Cameron's smile tightened, and I didn't miss the way that his eyes widened along with it. The expression only increased my developing irritation for him. Indeed, every time my new rival had spoken that evening, the knots of vexation that sat in the pit of my stomach tightened. Or were they knots of resentment? Disdain? I wasn't quite sure. All I was sure about was that they were there, and that they were growing more and more demanding by the second.

"What about Danglars?" Cameron suggested hopefully. "It was his plot that had Dantès imprisoned in the first place—"

"Totally," Sienna agreed, throwing her book aside to trace over a chip in her nail polish. "I agree."

I frowned. "It has to be Villefort."

The words left my mouth before I could suppress them, and each member of my group turned to peer at me from their spots on Sienna's bed. The girls were smiling gratefully at my decision to speak up, while Cameron took his time to meet my eye. And, when he did, the intensity pouring from within was unmissable.

So much for lying low.

But it was too late to retreat into my strategy of silence now.

I tried to look confident as I met Cameron's unnerving gaze. "The others put Dantès in prison, sure, but it was Villefort who kept him there."

I saw him consider my words, the beginnings of a frown dancing on his brow.

"Villefort?" he finally asked. "Really?"

I felt my own forehead crease. Because ... yeah, Villefort was the bad guy. He practically had 'villain' right there in his name.

"Sorry, I just ..." Cameron scoffed incredulously, as though I'd told him that Minnie Mouse was an undercover Soviet spy. "I mean, he was the only one that ever felt guilt for what he did—"

"Guilt doesn't excuse wrongdoing," I retorted, those knots in my stomach tightening again. "Villefort ruined Dantès' life, his reputation. He knew that Dantès was innocent and he convicted him anyway. For personal gain."

"I don't think it was personal gain, so much. He was protecting his father, after all."

"Let's be clear—he was protecting himself." Even before I'd uttered them, the words triggered something inside of me. Something from the day before, when it'd been Cameron hurling accusations at me, hiding behind the excuse of looking out for himself. It turned our discussion from hypothetical to personal—if it wasn't personal enough already. "There's no honor in protecting yourself," I added, my tone as cutting as my glare was cold. "Not if it comes at somebody else's expense."