Avalon
With a shaky breath, I stood and made my way toward the door. I’d given Schuyler a few minutes to leave before slipping out—the last thing I needed was to look suspicious.
Rorie’s was still packed when I stepped back into the main room. Bodies pressed together, music thumping, lights flashing. I scanned the crowd for a familiar face—Ethan, Colton, anyone.
Spotting a tall blond in a white cowboy hat, I exhaled in relief. “Ethan!” I called, weaving through the crowd.
Nausea twisted my stomach. Annie? She’d only had water and Coke all night. Was she okay?
I swallowed the rising bile and nodded. “Okay. I’m ready to get out of here.”
We headed toward the exit. Several girls shot glares our way—nothing new—but one girl in particular made me pause. Long dark hair. Round, bug-like eyes. A glare sharp enough to slice through bone.
The closer we got, the more familiar she looked. And then it hit me.
She was the girl who’d had that tense, heated moment with Clarke earlier—the one whose presence had made Clarke’s entire body go rigid.
“Ethan,” she cooed, sliding between us and shoving me aside with her shoulder.
What the fuck?
I stopped dead, staring at her. Ethan blinked slowly, shaking his head—a silent warning not to do whatever I was about to do. I didn’t even know what that was.
“I see Clarke finally left you alone,” the girl purred, biting her lip as she touched his arm. “Lucky me. How have you been? I’ve hardly seen you all year.”
“That’s because I haven’t wanted to be seen by you, Arabella.”
Arabella.
Arabella Finch.
As in the daughter of the woman who’d been harassing Clarke about her mental health hiatus?
Arabella cocked her head, still ignoring me. “Tsk. You don’t mean that, Ethan—”
“Yes, I do,” he cut in, removing her hand. “And I don’t appreciate this weird vendetta you have with my friends. If you really wanted me to go out with you, you’d stop torturing Clarke.”
Arabella laughed, rolling her eyes. “I do not torture her! We’re friends. That’s just how girls are, right…”
Finally, her gaze slid to me. “Who are you?”
“Avalon,” I said flatly. “And no, you’re not right. And you’re not Clarke’s friend.”
Arabella placed a hand over her chest, mouth falling open. “Excuse me? Who do you think you are? Do you know who I am?”
The questions were laughable. I could’ve told her exactly who I was—it would’ve shattered her world—but this wasn’t about me.
This rage was for Clarke.
“I don’t need to know your name or when you graduated or how much land your daddy owns to know you’re a bitch.”
Her eyes narrowed, mouth opening, but I kept going.
“I’ve been here a month and not once have I seen you or your friends check on Clarke. I saw the way she froze when you spoke to her. You’ve tormented her in some way—enough to leave damage—and judging from the three minutes I’ve known your name, I can tell you’ve never apologized.”
“Avalon,” Ethan said gently, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go. She’s not worth it.”
I shrugged him off. “No. She doesn’t get to act like this and not be called out.”
I turned back to Arabella, who looked ready to explode. “You can’t treat people like shit and expect them to laugh it off when you want something.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped, her face turning tomato-red. “You don’t know anything, Avalon.”
But I did know.
I knew girls like her.
Hell, I had been girls like her—self-absorbed, oblivious to the damage I caused—until I met Clarke.
Ethan tugged my arm again, urging me to drop it, but I couldn’t. Not when it came to Clarke. She’d already been through enough—I’d already put her through enough—and I wasn’t about to let some girl with a farmer’s tan and cheap earrings add to it.
“Clarke wouldn’t want you wasting your energy on someone like Arabella,” Ethan murmured. “Just leave it.”
Clarke.
Everything always came back to her.
I didn’t know Arabella well enough to be this angry, but she’d hurt Clarke. And that was enough to light the match inside me.
The one that wanted to burn down anyone who hurt her.
She was everywhere—in Melody’s laugh, in the apple orchard air, in every thought I’d had since stepping foot in Texas.
What had she done to me?
And did I even want it undone?
“Yeah, Avalon,” Arabella cooed, a smug smile spreading. “Listen to him. What would Clarke want you to do?”
“Say her name one more time.”
I pulled free from Ethan’s hold and stepped closer. Arabella’s eyes widened, fear or shock, I couldn’t tell—her jaw tightening as she tried to look confident.
“Clarke wouldn’t want you—”
She was on the floor before she finished her sentence.