Chapter 8
Chloe
Emily’s house finally starts to empty out now that it’s almost one in the morning, leaving behind the usual carnage of red Solo cups and the lingering stench of cheap beer mixed with even cheaper cologne—West Paragon High’s signature, sorry ass scent.
I should be exhausted, but instead I’m electric, every nerve ending firing with frustration.
This is supposed to be MY night. My welcome back to the land of the living party. I died. I came back. And yet somehow, Skyla Messenger still manages to make everything about her.
I lean against the railing of the second-floor balcony, watching the last stragglers stumble toward their cars through the fog. From up here, I can see everything—including Skyla Messenger’s pathetic attempt to avoid me. Running away must be exhausting when you’re dragging two leashes behind you.
But that wasn’t even the worst part of tonight. The worst part was Gage. I had him. Actually had him listening to me, letting me touch him, looking at me like I mattered.
Then Skyla shows up, and suddenly I’m invisible. He practically shoved me away the second he laid eyes on that blonde idiot. He didn’t even try to be subtle about it. Just extracted himself from my arms and walked off like I was contagious.
The rejection stings worse than Skyla’s dismissal. At least with Skyla, I expect the hostility. But Gage? For a minute I thought maybe... But no. One glimpse of precious Skyla Messenger and I cease to exist.
And then, to add insult to injury, when I tried to confront Skyla about it, she literally walked away from me. Just turned around and climbed back up those basement stairs as if I was nothing. Like I’m not even worth the energy it takes to slap me anymore.
The humiliation burns hotter than any fire in Hell could ever hope, but not as much as the confusion. Something was off about her tonight. Really off, even for Messenger.
“What’s up, Bishop?” Ellis appears next to me, reeking of weed and privilege, the noise from the party inside still raging behind him. All of the above makes me want to strangle him. “That whole thing with Messenger was kind of weird, huh?”
I shrug, as if I didn’t care. “Please. She’d make a paper cut seem life-threatening if it got her enough attention. She’s always so dramatic. And she’ll do whatever it takes to land on one of the Olivers’ joysticks.”
“Yeah, but...” Ellis squints through the fog like he’s trying to see something that isn’t there. “Did she seem different to you tonight?”
My pulse quickens. “Different how?”
“I can’t put my finger on it. Like, I don’t know, older or something? The way she moved, talked. Even the way she looked at people. Like she knew things. And the way she and Logan were acting—since when are they that in sync?”
Interesting. So, I’m not the only one who noticed.
Ellis is right. And since when does Logan Oliver follow her around like a puppy? Scratch that. It’s basic behavior for him at this point. But since when do they act like an old married couple? Two days ago, she was ready to set him on fire for being part Count.
“You’re probably just high,” I tell Ellis, who cackles hysterically then wanders into a wall as if to prove my point.
At least he has an excuse for being brain-dead. What’s everyone else’s?
Eventually, he makes his way back inside.
But I stay on the balcony, replaying the night in my mind.
The way Skyla looked at me when I tried to drag her to the basement—not with the fury and jealousy I’ve come to know and love, but with the exhausted recognition of someone who’s dealt with me a thousand times before.
The casual way she took off, like she already knew how everything would play out.
And before that? Gage. I had him right where I wanted him—hands on his chest, lips close enough to taste, that beautiful moment where his walls were finally coming down.
I could feel him warming up to me, see that flicker of interest in his eyes.
Another five minutes and I would’ve had him.
Would’ve finally broken through that Skyla-obsessed fog he lives in.
Then she walks in, and he practically shoves me off him. Doesn’t even try to soften the rejection. Just pulls away and leaves me standing there like a dumbass while he chases after her with his tongue wagging.
Messenger is going to pay for that. I’ll make sure of it. She thinks she can keep both Olivers on a leash forever? She thinks she can parade around, switching between them whenever she gets bored, while the rest of us get nothing?
I know exactly what would hurt her most—watching Gage choose someone else.
Watching him realize that the girl who can’t pick him, doesn’t deserve him.
And when that day comes, when I’m the one in Gage’s bed making him forget Skyla Messenger ever existed, she’ll understand what it feels like to be dismissed. To be nothing.
The thought makes me smile for the first time all night.
And then there was stupid Miller, completely insane, babbling about voices and visions as she hit rock bottom. Although with that new haircut, every night will be rock bottom for her.
At least someone else at this party is having a worse night than me. I’d love to make sure Skyla has a worse night, a worse life than the rest of us. In fact, I think I’ll make it my mission.
“What the hell is your problem, Messenger?” I shake my head out at the fog.
Who the hell does she think she is?
She thinks she’s evolved past me? I’ll show her that some enemies you can’t outgrow. Some people know exactly where to cut to make you bleed.
I head back inside, my heels clicking against the floor with purpose.
This isn’t a game anymore. It’s war. And unlike Skyla, I don’t have any lines I won’t cross.
I find a quiet corner to collect myself, watching as people continue to party around me while the humiliation from the night burns hot in my chest.
“Still moping, Bishop?” Ellis nods my way with bloodshot eyes.
“I don’t mope,” I snap. “I strategize.”
He snorts. “Sure, you do. Want some advice? Forget about Gage Oliver for tonight. He’s too busy brooding somewhere to notice anyone.”
“I don’t need your advice, Ellis,” I seethe, but he’s already scuttled off to safety before I can properly eviscerate him.
I spot Skyla and Logan in the kitchen and frown. They’re sharing brownies and laughing their heads off like they don’t have a single care in the world. Like she didn’t just ruin my chance with Gage and then treat me like I was less than the shit under her shoe.
Of course, they’re stuffing their pie holes. Skyla probably needs the calories to fuel all that indecision. Must be nice having your pick of desserts and boyfriends.
That little bitch is going to pay.
I’m about to take off when I catch sight of myself in the mirror above Emily’s mantel. For just a second, less than a heartbeat, I swear I see another reflection behind mine. A woman wearing a wedding dress, with tears streaming down her face.
Then it’s gone, leaving me staring at myself with my heart hammering against my ribs.
“What the hell?” I whisper as my heart begins to race.
I glance around, but she’s nowhere to be seen.
Must be the secondhand smoke from all of Ellis’ recreational herb collection. Or maybe I’m just exhausted from the train wreck tonight morphed into. But something about that image felt real. Too real.
I shake it off and head for the door, but not before taking one last look at where Gage stands—alone, miserable, and still obsessed with a girl who keeps him as her backup plan.
Skyla collects boys the way serial killers collect victims—one is never enough.
Lucky for me, Gage will eventually get tired of being part of her body count.
Tomorrow, I’ll try again. And again. And again, if I have to.
Because Chloe Bishop doesn’t give up. Especially not on Gage Oliver.
The fact that Skyla tried to take me down a notch just makes me more determined.
She thinks she’s won, thinks she has both Oliver boys wrapped around her vagina.
But I know something she doesn’t—Gage is getting tired of being second choice.
I can see it in the way he watches her with Logan, the hurt that flashes across his face before he covers it with indifference.
All I need is patience. And timing. And eventually, he’ll realize that the girl who never gave up on him is worth more than the girl who can’t make up her mind.
I leave Emily’s house with my head held high, despite the humiliation still sizzling over my flesh. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
Gage Oliver will be mine.
It’s not a hope or a wish—it’s a certainty. I’ll make sure of it.
No matter what it takes.
Because Chloe Bishop always gets what she wants.