Finding relationships is easy... Keeping them is the real game.
That's what I'm learning in my first one. It's not easy. Our rival schools are an hour apart, my best friend's turning secretive, my parents are controlling, and my brother's still an a...
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No matter how many times I washed my starchy, work uniform, greasy and over-processed food smells permeated from the scratchy fabric. The vertical, near-blinding stripes clashed with the fire-engine red 'pepperonis' that slipped down my chest like nipple pasties of shame.
"Welcome to Pizza Palace, where your pizza is our palace pleasure."
Lamest greeting ever.
"Eleanor," a feminine voice greeted me in a coy tone, paired with flashing blue-gray eyes I wanted to punch my fist into.
"Camille," I pushed out through gritted teeth.
Wearing the oily glow of a new facial, she looked extra...extra today. Her potent hairspray and vanilla perfume burned my nose from across the counter, and her low-cut, baby-pink shirt was so tight, I was surprised her boobs didn't pop out. Surprisingly alone, her bimbo squad was nowhere in sight.
Or, sort of alone.
A pink leather bag hung tucked under her right armpit. Two beady little eyes inside peered at me.
"Camille." I frowned at her dog-in-a-bag. "We don't allow pets here."
Before she answered, the door swung open and another blonde, gray-blue-eyed girl entered. With rounder features, she looked a few years younger than Camille, and my heart sank at the possibility she was some kind of assistant to our school's queen bee.
My eyes narrowed. She looked familiar, and not for being a mini-Camille. Where did I know her from?
"Francesca is not a pet." Camille huffed, crossing her arms and squishing a line of cleavage halfway up to her neck. Noticing me glancing between her dog and smaller friend, she rolled her eyes. "Like my little sister Emma, she's family."
Sister? And, for fuck's sake, it was more of a rat than a dog.
I shifted my attention from the armpit dog to Emma's face when recognition struck me. She approached Harper and me during a Santa Cruz game of the season. She'd pretended to be interested in learning about the game when she was interested in Brody, disappearing once we'd told her he was single. Harper had joked that they were perfect for each other because all they'd do was blush and stare at each other.
Deceit aside, she was cute, shy, and blushed at hearing Brody's name. How could she be related to Camille?
"Where's my order?" Her voice snapped my attention back to her.
"Small cauliflower crust with no cheese and extra veggies and a side salad, dressing on the side?" As soon as the slip had printed, the order screamed her name, and I'd already bagged up her food. "Fourteen-fifty."
Turning, I grabbed her salad from the minifridge and her pizza under the lamp warmer that heated the entire counter area like a freaking sauna.
"Extra balsamic vinegar, Eleanor." Her syrupy voice grated on my ears like sandpaper. I grabbed extra dressing packets, plastered a pained smile, and delivered her order.
