Sweet Like Revenge

38 - Foreign Policy

Milk & Sugar had Ana written all over it.

The cozy coffee shop was a small establishment, only just large enough to fit a couple of tables and three booths at the very back. The wooden shelves nailed to the brick wall were lined with Penguin Classics, while the kitchen was so close that patrons could smell the fresh pastries before they hit the counter. So perfect and homely was the place that I had half a mind to wonder why I'd never stepped foot in it before. Only half a mind, that is, because the quaint cafe was an hour's drive from Irvine Falls.

One. Whole. Hour.

Shame. Cameron would love it here.

Oh my gosh, shut UP!

"Elle?"

I don't know what caused it exactly — perhaps logic, perhaps anxiety — but I'd overthought every aspect of my meeting with Jessica in the aftermath of her text. There was a part of me that even questioned whether it was Jessica texting me in the first place. After all, she'd been so adamant at the pageant that she wanted nothing to do with me or my offer of help.

So when I turned to find her lingering on the other side of the cafe, her shiny brown hair pulled off her makeup-free face, I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

"Hi." I cleared my throat, plastering on what I hoped was a friendly smile. "I'm glad that you decided to reach out—"

"What do you want?"

Jessica stomped over to my booth, her eyes on the seat opposite mine. She decided against taking it, though, folding her arms haughtily and glaring down at me from above instead.

"Money?" she guessed. "I don't have any. And I can't very well ask my parents for it, not without telling them why I need it."

"I don't want your money," I said, batting my lashes. "I told you, I want to help."

She scoffed, though her jaw remained firm. "Help? Why? You don't even know me."

She was right to question me. Hell, I'd do the same thing if I were in her position. But lucky for me, I'd come prepared.

"This isn't about you." I scooted forward to rest my arms on the table. "Not really. This is about Kirsty. It's about her doing whatever she has to do to win at any cost. Any human cost. She'd be a disgrace to any title that she won."

Appealing to the sanctity of pageantry was a low blow. Especially because I considered Jessica and Kirsty's world to be as pretentious and damaging as it was toxic. But I didn't care how I got Jessica to trust me. All that mattered was that she did.

"Besides," I added, feeding on the way Jessica's clenched jaw had softened. "This is personal. Kirsty did something similar to me."

Her eyes narrowed beneath her oversized shades, although they did so less forcefully than before. "You compete?"

I couldn't help but feel the sting of her inference, and I certainly didn't appreciate the assumption that I couldn't compete if I wanted to. Elle Roxford could do anything — she'd proven so already.

"I did," I replied, feeling my lips stretch into a small, sad smile. "But that was a long time ago."

Jessica dropped her arms to her side. "Funny. I've never heard of you."

How could you? Elle's existed for less than a year.

"Not all of us are household names," I said instead, once again appealing to my target's weakness. With Jessica, it was ego.

And it worked.

The brazen girl slunk into the seat opposite mine, tearing her shades from her face before calling over the waitress.