Chapter 12
TWELVE
“If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense.”
—Hatter, Alice in Wonderland
Interdisciplinary Art Practice would be an intriguing class if Professor Grasmere weren’t teaching it.
It’s not his fault, though, that in comparison to the other teachers of the senior art studio course, his style is a bit bland.
His monotone voice makes each minute feel like it’s stretched out for an hour, despite the subjects he’s introduced thus far being rather interesting.
We’re combining various types of media to explore the creation of something new with the fused avenues.
For instance, we are integrating mathematics into art while avoiding a strictly geometric approach.
It’s as mind-numbing as listening to Ben Stein in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off calling out class attendance in his classic monotone.
Bored out of my mind, I covertly palm my phone to text Ivory. There’s an unread message waiting for me from Scarlett.
The hell?
I didn’t even know she had my number. Curious, despite knowing nothing good was going to come from this, I tap on the text and openly gasp at the picture of her and Maddox looking damn chummy.
Are you fucking kidding me?
The photo was taken today. It had to be.
That’s the same hideous red outfit I saw Scarlett wearing in Painting IV.
Maddox is also dressed exactly as I saw him before.
Black tank top paired with medieval-inspired black pants.
I vividly recall his attire because, despite my reluctance, I couldn’t help but think he looked fine as fuck.
But that’s nothing new. Maddox is always effortlessly gorgeous—roughly elegant—but not when he’s got his goddamn face that close to Scarlett’s.
Makes him ugly as fuck…and me mad as hell.
Switching gears, I text Scarlett.
Me: What the hell is this?
She takes her sweet-ass time before replying.
Scarlett: Figured it was obvious.
Me: Guess it is.
Me: You can keep him.
Because I’ll be damned if I’m going to fight her for a man—even if that man is Maddox.
Scarlett: Oh, Alice, you tell me that like he’s yours to give away.
This bitch.
Me: I never wanted him he’s disloyal and fucks like shit
Scarlett: But you did fuck him. Slut.
Me: Better a slut than a twat
Scarlett: Better a twat than a sad suicidal coward.
There’s about a million different replies I can send, and each one would hit way below the belt.
My fingers actually hurt from not putting them on the keyboard and dropping down to Scarlett’s level.
But really, trading barbs with her is pointless.
She’ll always be a nasty bitch, and no amount of fighting back will change that or make me feel any better.
Opting to be the better person and do the adult thing, I block her.
Block her, and block Maddox because he can go fuck himself.
He wants to talk? Too bad. He can have all the conversations he wants with Scarlett.
And yet I’ll be damned if I give him the last word—and this disgusting picture is the last word.
He almost got me. Nearly destroyed the barrier I built between us.
How stupid of me. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Thank gawd Scarlett sent me this. If she didn’t, I might not have seen through Maddox’s bullshit until it was too late.
Until I gave him my whole heart.
I leap from the chair, ignore the stares as I gather my things, and dash out of class.
Professor Grasmere calls after me, but I ignore him as well.
Shove open the door and storm out, and only once I get to my SUV and lock the doors, sitting there for a few moments to calm down before I drive, three questions seep past my anger.
Who took the photo?
Why did they take it?
And also, how the hell did Scarlett get it?
Suddenly, I’m not only angry, but I’m also seriously suspicious as well…