sunday

You spotted Gene across the parking lot. He had been watching you, and when your gazes finally met he let a clever smile cross his lips before starting to cross to where you were. Your own slowly spread until he was standing in front of you.

“Creep,” you teased. “Why’re you watching me like a weirdo?”

“Just waiting until I get the chance to say bye and good luck.” He leaned against the bus, crossing his arms and giving you a once over. He raised a brow at your glittery uniform and shimmering skin. “You have to ride the bus in that?”

You groaned. “Yes. I don’t even know why, something with the timing of when we get there? That’s why I proposed we just meet at school early and then go but no, no one wanted to get up early.” You rolled your eyes, letting out a sigh. “Whatever. It’s fine.”

Gene smiled, amusement dancing in his eyes. When you asked what he was looking at, he just shook his head. “You’re just cute.”

You rolled your eyes despite the jump in your chest. “Who knew that Gene Accardi would ever find anything cute?”

“Y/n!” You turned your head. Standing by the bus’s doorway was Coach Geter, who waved you over. “Let’s go! We’ll be late if we leave any later.”

You nodded and grabbed Gene’s hand to pull him along with you. Coach Geter hopped onto the bus, standing at the front of the aisle and counting heads to make sure everyone was there. When you made it to the bus door, you turned to Gene and squeezed his hand.

“I’ll see you later,” you said, voice low so no one on the bus could hear. Not that they had any particular interest in what was going on outside the bus. “I should be back towards the end of eighth period, so I’ll meet you after school, ‘kay?”

“Okay, bunny.” Gene’s voice had a playful lilt to it, and a clever smile spread across his face when you gave his hand a squeeze. He watched you board the bus before Coach Geter could tell you off again.

You settled yourself in a seat towards the front. Not only was it one of the last available seats, but it had been picked beforehand and as the Silver Starlet captain, there was an unspoken expectation that you sat at the front.

You sat next to Molly, one of the lieutenants that had helped you with the booth at the beginning of the year. Already she had made herself comfortable in the seat, knees pulled up to her chest as she scrolled on her phone. When you sat down she lifted her gaze, turning off her phone and letting it fall into her lap.

“So,” she started, and by the tone alone you guessed what she would ask about, “new boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I didn’t expect that. Are you guys, like, actually dating?” Stephanie asked you from across the aisle. She picked at her cuticles, only half listening.

“Me and Gene?” Molly nodded, and you were quick to shake your head. “No, not at all. We’re just talking.”

“Talking today, probably undressing by tonight.” Behind you, Vanessa poked her head through the gap in bus seats. “You’re going to Ophelia’s party, right?”

“Yeah, but Ophelia’s parties aren’t, like, frat parties or something.”

“Maybe not at the party, but definitely after.” Vanessa readjusted, fixing herself so she was more securely peering through the gap. “You know how Gene is.”

What was that supposed to mean? You knew about the reputation he held with all the blackmailing and class skipping and vandalizing he did, but you didn’t take him as someone to pursue people solely because of their bodies.

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“Like . . .” Vanessa vaguely motioned. “You know.”

You shared a glance with Molly, which she only returned with her doe-eyed stare, before propping yourself up and meeting Vanessa’s gaze again. “No, I don’t. What’s he supposed to be like?”

Stephanie piped up from across the aisle again. “I mean, guys like him are bound to have tons of experience. He’s got the perfect personality for it; delinquent, condescending, insanely hot—”

“Oh, my Irene.” You covered your face, shrinking into your seat. “No, he-he’s not like that. We aren’t worried about that.”

“Oh, there’s a we now?” Vanessa wiggled her eyebrows. Coach Geter had begun calling role to ensure everyone was present, and the only pause in their teasing was the brief second it took them to reaffirm they were on the bus.

“But they’re not dating,” Molly added, then scrunched her nose. “Ew, are you in a situationship now?”

“No . . .” You didn’t sound too sure of that. You weren’t a fan of situationships—why beat around the bush when you could just date and then break up if needed?—but you guess that whatever was going on with you and Gene didn’t really have another name. You sighed. “I don’t know. We’re just kind of taking it slow. I mean, he hasn’t even asked me to be his girlfriend yet.”

Not that you necessarily wanted him to. Girlfriend/boyfriend was definitely moving too fast. And think, people would point and say, Look, that’s Gene Accardi’s girlfriend. Yup, the Gene Accardi that blackmails people. Yeah, that one. No thanks.

“Why wait for him to ask you? You could just ask him and bam—dating.” You didn’t respond to Molly’s statement, and after a moment her eyes widened. “Oh, you don’t want to date him.”

“No!” Your response was almost too quick. “No, it’s not that. There’s just some . . . stuff we both need to work out before taking that step.”

Vanessa hummed from behind you. “Right. Well, don’t take too long. Guys like Gene get bored easy and he’ll move on before anything even happens.”

“Or maybe he’ll just drop you,” Stephanie added as Vanessa corrected herself in her seat. “Like, after he gets what he wants.”

“Don’t listen to them. I’m sure Gene is perfectly fine waiting. I mean, he’s gotta have tons of patience when he, uhm, blackmails others?” Molly tried reassuringly with a soft smile. You returned it, your own much more tight-lipped and tense than hers. She didn’t exactly bring up a good point.

It seemed that was all the conversation needed. Stephanie had started scrolling on her phone, Molly adjusted a pillow beneath her head and closed her eyes, and who knew what Vanessa was doing behind you. With a soft exhale through your nose, you lifted your pair of headphones over your ears and drifted off.

Something stayed nudging at your heart. The whole point of going slow was to see if you and Gene were really compatible. You thought you were, but what if Gene was just really good at masking? He must have been, considering all the people he had fooled before. The only reason no one really bothered to get to know him was because of his reputation and . . .

Irene, had you been stupid enough to fall into his trap?

—

The first thing Gene did when walking onto the high school campus was look for Balto. If he found Balto, then he’d likely find Julie.

Unfortunately, Balto was not an easily found person. While Gene had nearly every single student hanging from a string, Balto was one of the few he had never cared enough to learn much about. Some healthy rivalry was good, and Gene couldn’t be the only one on top of the high school clique food chain in terms of knowledge. He might not be the most liked, but he was someone people didn’t want to tick off in fear of whatever life-ending rumor might spread in retaliation.

In fact, Gene had never really cared what Balto did. They were in entirely different groups. Balto took care of the werewolves, Gene took care of the humans, and someone else who Gene didn’t care to recall the name of served as a peacekeeper for the meif’wa. Balto and Gene had no reason to interact.

He found Balto in one of the never-used music rooms. This was the only that had been unofficially designated for vaping, smoking weed, and whatever other raunchy activities students got up to. Gene, of course, never utilized it. It reeked of something horrendous and almost always let out a cloud of musk when the door opened. Even now, Gene cringed stepping inside.

“Balto,” Gene said upon meeting the werewolf’s gaze. He was alone, lounging across three chairs that had been pushed together to form an area to lay.

“Gene.” Balto’s lips curled lazily. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Gene’s gaze flicked around the room. He was catching notes of something that didn’t belong to the tangy scent—something sweet. “Don’t you have a class to get to?”

“First period reserved.” Balto clicked his tongue. “You wouldn’t know what that’s like, huh?”

“I’m surprised you could even get a reserved, considering your grades.” Gene knew he struck a chord when Balto’s lips curled down. 

The brunett lifted his head. “What do you want? I doubt you came to get a joint.”

“As tempting as that is, no.” Gene leaned back against the doorframe, crossed his arms, and surveyed the room once more. The only thing he noticed was a closet in which the bottom of the door had gotten caught on a beaded charm Gene would be an idiot to not recognize. “Where’s Julie?”

The flash of panic barely lasted a second. “Who?”

“Julie L/n,” Gene repeated. He could feel that the air had gotten thicker. “Y/n’s sister.”

“Oh, the goody two-shoes freshman.” Balto clicked his tongue again. “No clue. Why? That Aphmau chick didn’t work out so you’re looking for another toy?”

“Rumor has it that Julie’s been hanging around the wrong kind of people.” Gene pushed himself off the doorway and slowly began crossing the room, closer and closer to the closet. Balto’s eyes tracked him, and while his expression didn’t reveal anything, Gene noticed his entire body tensing.

“Just like her sister, then.” The jab was sharp, punctuated by a piercing glare. “How’s that working out for you? The Dancing Queen and the sly fox—a nice bedtime story, isn’t it?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about Julie, would you?” There was no way in hell Gene was about to entertain a conversation about you with Balto of all people. “Heard she’s been hanging out with some no-good seniors.” Gene paused in front of the closed closet, tilting his head at Balto. “Any idea what they’d want from a little freshman?”

To his credit, Balto didn’t squirm like a trapped mouse. He played it cool when he shrugged and kept his voice smooth when he spoke. “No idea.”

“Right . . .” Gene leaned back again, resting his weight against the closet door. He strained to listen for anything behind it, but heard nothing. “Well, her sister’s real worried about her. Y’know how she is—always concerned with the well being of others.”

“You’d know all about your little girlfriend, wouldn’t you?” Gene didn’t say anything to negate him, and Balto let a wide grin spread across his face. “She’s such a pretty thing. You got real lucky she even looked twice at you. Though, she’s always been one to look past bullshit, hasn’t she?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sure he did. Balto was referencing the fact that you had chosen to give Gene the second chance no one else did; to really know him outside of his scummy reputation and ruthless actions. Whether it was stupidity or true caring from your side, Gene wasn’t sure. He regretted ever thinking you were just some ditzy drill girl, though, and hoped with all his heart that it was the latter—that it was a conscious effort.

At Gene’s unsure tone, Balto lifted a brow and pushed himself to his feet. He stepped forward until he stood face to face with Gene. They were the same height, save for the added length of Balto’s pointed ears.

“Word’s goin’ around that she’s using you for clout.”

“She’s using me?” Gene scoffed. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

Balto shrugged. “There’s a fair share about you, too. But she is what’s interesting. People think you’re a little project for her. That she’s trying to make herself out to be a savior that turned the resident delinquent around.” He tilted his head, his wolfish grin vaguely reminding Gene of the same tactics he used to intimidate. “She’s got you wrapped around her little finger and you don’t even realize.”

Gene scoffed. “I don’t get played, Balto. Unlike you, I don’t let people beneath me have power.”

That struck a nerve. Balto’s grin faltered until his lips tightened into a scowl. “You think she’s beneath you?”

Gene didn’t reply. He didn’t want to say anything and give Balto more material to twist around to his story, even if Gene did want to bite back. Gene would have spit at his feet if it wouldn’t have made a mess.

“Don’t let another human overpower you,” Gene said simply, stepping around the werewolf. “It doesn’t do any good for your whole . . . look.”

For once, Balto didn’t say anything or move, not even to track Gene as he stepped out of the room. The door clicked behind him, and Gene continued without an added problem.

At least now he had confirmation it was Balto that Julie had been getting involved with. Lacy had been saying that—and it wasn’t that Gene didn’t believe her, he just knew that overwhelmed freshmen tended to fill gaps with whatever they wanted. Still, Gene didn’t know what Balto wanted with Julie or why he had chosen her to mess with to begin with.

Maybe, Gene thought, Julie’s an easy target. Like Aphmau had been to him. Something easy and quick he could mess around with and drop without a second thought. Gene needed to find out quick—who knew what Balto had already made Julie do? Or what he would continue to make her do.

He’d ask Zenix to snoop around. He was good at that. Zenix was often loud and brash but he was quiet as a mouse and invisible when it mattered. More often than not it was because of him that Gene knew so much. Maybe with Zenix’s help, he could try and see what was really going on with you as well . . .

Gene tried not to let it bother him. He knew you—everything about you was genuine and you were afraid of even being perceived. 

Still, there was substance to Balto’s point, and that substance took root in the back of Gene’s mind.

—

“Get out.”

Julie scrambled out of the closet, pushing the door hard against her beaded charm so it could open. Her face was hot, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the heat of the enclosed space or the prospect that she had been so close to being caught. Or if it was just a conditioned reaction to Balto’s tone. He sounded pissed.

She wasn’t expecting him to be directly in front of the closet door, and she nearly fell into him with a gasp when the door opened. He put a hand on her shoulder and helped her back to her feet, though his grip remained tight. Not quite bruising, but if he pressed into her skin any harder then there would be another mark for her to cover.

He smiled at her—kindly, she thought, but there was something forced about it. “Sorry ‘bout that, Jules. Didn’t mean to shove you in there, but y’know Gene can be real nosy. We don’t want him catching too much about us or else this whole thing’ll blow up in our faces.”

His tone was strained, like he was trying beyond his care level to be sweet to her, but Julie recognized the irritation in his eyes. Clearly, the interaction had done more than just tick Balto off about this situation. Something more personal had been poked, but Julie didn’t know what.

Balto let go of Julie so she could properly shoulder her bag. “I wonder how he picked up a connection between us,” Balto mused, stepping back to give Julie a little space to breathe. It wasn’t enough. She still felt suffocated in the thick atmosphere of the room and by Balto’s unwavering gaze. “You haven’t said anything, have you?” There was something vaguely threatening about the way he said it, so Julie was quick to shake her head. “Not even to your sister?”

“I barely even talk to Y/n anymore,” Julie replied. As bad as she felt about it, it was true. Julie had been interacting with you less and less since this whole thing started. The morning after your date with Gene had been an outlier—Balto hadn’t come to school by then so she took the few precious minutes she had to hang out with you. She just hoped that you hadn’t noticed the distance slowly growing between the two of you. “She has the day off anyway. The drill team has a presentation or something downtown.”

Balto hummed. It sounded absent, like he was thinking through something. After a moment, he reached forward and tucked a lock of Julie’s hair behind her ear. “You’re comin’ with me to Ophelia’s party tonight, right?”

“Ophelia Mishra? Isn’t she on the drill team, too?”

“Well, yes.” Balto paused, thinking through his words carefully. He gave Julie a dashing smile. “It’s important for us to make appearances at things like this, you know? It lets people know we’re still out and about doing what we do. You were able to get everything, right?”

Julie nodded, absentmindedly reaching behind her to touch the bottom of her bag where Ziploc bags wrapped in a blanket sat. “Yeah, but won’t Y/n see if I’m there? I told you I didn’t want her knowing about this.”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll make sure she doesn’t see you.” When Balto reached for Julie again, she flinched back. His gaze lowered and his lip turned back. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Julie let Balto take her hand. It was a more gentle touch than normal, and the foreignness of it made a chill run up her spine. Balto had never been this . . . calm. She was scared he’d blow up any second.

He lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Julie nodded, and Balto let her hand drop. She stayed frozen as he picked his bag up from the other side of the room. When he left he spared a glance back at her, shooting her a dangerous grin before dipping out of the room. Julie hadn’t even realized her body had been tense until she suddenly relaxed when the door clicked shut behind him.

She had to wait a second before leaving. That was fine with her—her heart was about to pound out of her chest and she could practically feel that her blood pressure was through the roof anyway. She just needed to take this second to calm down and gather her bearings.

This really was a disgusting room. Julie hadn’t even known air could hold onto smoke and moisture like this until she stepped foot in here. She didn’t mean to be dramatic, but she really did think the air would come apart if she took a knife to it. A really sharp, really jagged knife.

She didn’t even notice tears were falling from her eyes until she felt one slide down her neck. It scared her, and she was quick to wipe it up to alleviate the tingling feeling it left behind.

When she finally did leave the room, it was with her head lowered and her shoulders hunched. When she sat with Lacy in homeroom she hardly said a word and only listened as her best friend rambled about whatever TV show she was watching. The rest of the day carried on that way, and it’s not like she was avoiding Balto, but any time he was around she turned the other way.

She dreaded what would come later. When you had gone to Ophelia’s Halloween party last year, Julie had wanted to go as well. She ended up getting sick, so you had promised to take her this year. With everything that’s been happening, though, she had come up with some lie she didn’t even remember about why she couldn’t go. But now, Balto was making her.

She’d just have to avoid you, then. Yeah. Yeah, she could do that.

— 

Maria gasped, adjusting her glasses as she took the phone from Gene’s outstretched hand. Her gold bangles jingled together, the noise echoing through the kitchen like bells as Gene leaned toward the mirror in front of him. His mom zoomed into the picture, focusing on your smiling face and glittering skin.

“Oh, Gene. She’s beautiful.”

He couldn’t help but bite back a smile as Maria continued to scroll through the post, carefully considering each picture of you. His own face reflected that in the mirror, and Gene had the fleeting thought that he had never seen himself look so . . . Content? Happy? He wasn’t sure—there was something fuzzy and lighthearted about getting approval from your mother, especially about someone you were seeing. That had never really been a common thing for him.

“When can I meet her?”

Right. Gene should’ve expected that question, but he was so taken aback by it that he nearly ran his pencil liner into his eye. He didn’t respond for a moment, which his mom must have taken as deep thought because she just kept scrolling through your profile before lifting her gaze back to her son and raising her brows expectantly.

“We aren’t really . . .” Gene made a vague motion, making Maria roll her eyes.

“Ay, no me digas tonterías. Se nota por tu cara que le gusta mas que . . . What was his name? Your orange-haired friend. What ever happened to him?”

Gene made a sound in protest, not wanting Maria to reach too far into that particular phase of his life.

“Mamá, no es tan serio,” he settled on, lifting his hands in surrender. “We’re just kind of trying it out. It hasn’t advanced too far yet.”

“Oh, yet?” Maria wiggled her eyebrows. Gene scoffed and turned back to the mirror. “Plan on making a move soon?”

“No, no.” Well . . . “I mean, we’re going on dates and obviously the goal is to actually date, but . . .”

Gene trailed off. But what? He understood wanting to take it slow and keeping it on the down low, but you could do that while actively dating, couldn’t you? He could keep a secret better than anyone he knew. Besides, it wasn’t like dozens of people didn’t already know about your budding relationship. Trying to keep it secret was probably planting seeds for more rumors than you wanted. 

Gene shook his head. “We’re just taking our time.”

Maria clicked her tongue, setting Gene’s phone back on the counter and pushing herself off the kitchen island. “You new generation and relationships. You can’t ever just date anyone, there’s a hundred different stages now.” She rolled her shoulders, pulling her blue hair off her neck. “What you really need is to just talk it out. I’m sure she’d love to date mi Ginito. You’re already doing matching costumes.”

There was a question at the end of her statement. She had seen both Mean Girls and Diary of a Wimpy Kid and knew for a fact that Regina George and Rodrick Heffley were not from the same franchise. She wasn’t entirely sure what the relation was, but that’s what Gene said the matching costume was.

Gene didn’t know what to say to that. Part of him agreed—he thought you and him should be dating. You’d gone on dates. You’d kissed. You flirted pretty often. So why weren’t you? The other part agreed with and understood your side—the wanting to move about this quietly. He didn’t mind that, really. He wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, that bothered him about you wanting to keep it silent.

He didn’t respond to his mother. He could tell Maria wanted to say more, but she held her tongue. Silence passed between them, which only broke after Gene rubbed his eyes to smudge his eyeliner and stood up. He grabbed his phone and keys from where they sat on the table.

“I’m gonna head out,” he told Maria, stepping around the table to give her a side hug and chastely kiss her temple. “I told Y/n I’d pick her up thirty minutes before and she lives on the other side of town.”

Maria hummed, letting her son break away from her and step towards the door. “Okay. Dante’s not going, too, right?”

“I don’t think so.” Gene had no fucking clue. “If he’s there I’ll bring him home.”

“Have fun, mijo!” Maria called after him. Gene shut the front door behind him shortly after, unlocking his phone to queue up whatever music he thought appropriate for the drive to your house. It seemed to get shorter every time he made the cross-town trip. Maybe it was the building anticipation of actually getting to see you outside of school hours.

He never thought he’d be that kind of boyfriend. The one willing to use more gas than necessary to pick you up and drop you off without a second thought. The one that actually looked forward to spending time with you. He felt bad for his last girlfriend—Gene hadn’t treated her nearly as well as he’d been treating you.

It was ironic, wasn’t it? Treat the girlfriend like shit but the next situationship like a princess. It didn’t matter that Gene had been younger and more rooted into fitting the “bad boy” stereotype, girlfriend ranked higher than situation. He should’ve done better.

Was he trying too hard for your favor? What he told his mom was true—he did want you to be his girlfriend—but did you want him to be your boyfriend? There hadn’t exactly been a clear sign of that and . . . Irene, was Gene really just a fix-it project for you?

Gene lowly whistled when you approached his car. He could tell the action at least flustered you because you looked down in a sad attempt to hide your smile. Your shoes clicked against the concrete until you stopped in front of him, finally lifting your eyes to meet his.

His gaze travelled your figure. You wore black kitten heels with a faux black leather skirt. Your shirt said A little bit dramatic in true Regina George fashion and the pink cardigan adorning your shoulders looked soft to the touch. The real cherry on top was the wig—a heat fried-looking hair piece that was more yellow than soft blonde. 

He chuckled. “Where’d you find the shirt?”

“Hot Topic.” You looked down at it. “I was surprised they had it considering how old this movie is.”

Gene stepped aside to open the passenger door for you. “And the wig?”

“Julie already had it, for some reason.” After closing the door, Gene was quick to cross  to the other side of his car. “She’s not home right now, so I just went to her room and grabbed it from her mannequin.”

Gene’s brows furrowed as he shifted gears. “What do you mean grabbed it from her mannequin?”

“She has a mannequin in her room. Her name is Sally.”

Gene let the silence between songs fill the car for a moment. “Why?”

“‘Cause she has no arms?” You shrugged. Gene blinked at you. You bit back a smile and motioned to the road. “Are you gonna start driving, or . . . ?”

Gene scoffed, but he did start driving. “You and your sister are weirdos.”

“Well, you’re going out with one of them, so.” You smiled brightly at him, leaning your weight against the center console and batting your lashes. “Clearly you think something about me is attractive.”

Gene shot you a dazzling smile that mirrored your own, glancing at you briefly before returning his gaze straight ahead. “There are lots of things about you that I think are attractive.”

“Yeah?” you mused, to which Gene hummed in affirmation. You didn’t say anything else, only absorbed one of the many quiet moments between you and Gene.

This one felt different, though. Something in your gut twisted, and you felt as though he was hiding something. There was no real indicator of that, only your vague feeling, but it was hard to push away. Especially when you noticed his hands shift to toggle the AC, making it colder. You noticed a slight sheen to his skin after, which made your brows slightly furrow.

Was he nervous?

No, that was ridiculous. Why would he be nervous? Nothing was wrong, not anything you had noticed anyway.

Irene, had you done something? Accidentally said something or . . . Well, you had unintentionally ghosted him the other day, but you had good reason! You had yet to add Gene’s contact to your favorites and put your phone into focus mode to complete homework, after which you hadn’t even checked your phone before slipping between your sheets. And besides, you responded the next morning, so surely it wasn’t that.

Something just felt off. You weren’t sure what, and you weren’t sure you wanted to figure out what. You just hoped he’d tell you soon—and that it wasn’t too devastating. That would be nice.

—

“Oh, my Irene. You two are so cute!”

Ophelia had shaped her afro into a star and wore a sparkly black dress with silver paper stars cut and taped to it. Her skin shimmered with glitter and she held her son, who was dressed as an astronaut, against her hip.

You smiled widely, both at her and little Lalo. “Thanks for letting me bring Gene along,” you said, waving when Lalo pointed at your yellow hair.

“Of course. If you trust him, then I will, too.” Ophelia smiled at you, and some part of you folded under the weight of knowing that your opinion on someone could influence that of others. “Besides, I’m sure you already told him this is a substance-free zone, right?”

“First thing she said,” Gene replied. His hand hovered over the small of your back, not quite enough to claim you as his girlfriend, but enough to let others know you were at least together. “I’ve been leaning away from that stuff anyway.”

“Really?” Ophelia drew out the word, shifting her gaze to you. She raised her eyebrows to insinuate something, and you were sure that if Gene weren’t around she’d make a joking comment about how you had him on a leash. “Well that’s good to hear.”

Lalo fussed in her arms, but when Ophelia set him down he held onto her skirt to stay standing. “Anyway, you two have fun, okay? There’s more people than there were last year, so hopefully it has a little more of a party vibe.”

You nodded, and watched Ophelia shuffle away and maneuver around Lalo. Finally, Gene let his hand rest fully on your back.

“So what do you people do? Based on the hostess’s . . . situation I assume there are no corner-of-the-room makeouts or secret deals, right?”

You huffed a laugh. “Not really. There are drinking games, technically, but the loser drinks whatever sludge is concocted beforehand. Last year it was orange juice, toothpaste, and hot sauce.”

Gene scrunched his nose, disgusted. “That sounds like a nightmare. Don’t try dragging me into one of those, bunny.”

“She also has karaoke going somewhere.” Gene hummed. “I think in the living room she has Mario Kart going?” He seemed more interested in that. “And in the backyard she has other games like cornhole and horseshoe toss.”

“Seems very family-reunion-y.”

“Well she has to make it friendly for her kid,” you reasoned. “Her parents don’t like watching him.”

“Understandable,” he said, and you wondered if he meant Ophelia or her parents. After a moment, he exhaled. “Well, bunny, why don’t we go get a drink and then find something to do?”

You rolled your eyes, but let him lead you to the kitchen where various liters of soda and lemonade were scattered around the counter. You each grabbed a plastic cup and served yourself. From the other side of the counter, you snuck three cookies and multiple cheese cubes onto a napkin.

Gene raised an eyebrow at your assortment, but he didn’t say a word. When you asked what he was looking at, he just shook his head and grabbed one of your cookies.

“You dick,” you teased, lightly smacking his arm. “That was for me.”

“There’s more.” He motioned to the cookie tray behind him, where there was, indeed, more.

“I wanted that one.”

“So did I.” He ruffled your yellow wig, making it shift back on your head, as he shoved the cookie in his mouth. “Tough luck, bunny.”

You stared at him, mouth agape. The cookie was bigger than most store bought ones, likely hand-baked by Ophelia, and you could do nothing but watch as Gene practically unhinged his jaw to fit it whole in his mouth.

“That’s disgusting. You’re like a snake. How did you even do that?”

Gene shrugged, wiping crumbs from his hand onto his black jeans. “Practice?”

“Practice doing what?” A thought—a very much unwelcome one that would’ve had Katelyn mortified if you'd told her—flashed through your mind. “Actually, don’t tell me.”

He raised a brow, confused, before the pieces clicked together in his mind. Then, he laughed. “Do you ever think about anything wholesome, Y/n?”

You liked when he said your name. He called you bunny so often that hearing your actual name fall from his lips felt like a breath of fresh air. There was something about the way he said it, too, like it was sacred just because it belonged to you.

“I think plenty of wholesome things.” You tried to keep your voice from wavering and reflecting the way your heartbeat sped up. The sound of your name was a stupid thing to get so flustered over. “Like . . . Going to the movies.”

Gene raised a brow. It was almost like you could see the thoughts forming in his mind, twisting around your words into different images. “Right.”

“You’re the dirty minded one if you see anything wrong with going to the movies.” Maybe. Dark room, everyone’s full attention forward on the screen, complete silence aside from whatever film was playing. Yeah, definitely not the place for deviant activity.

Gene practically watched the image form in your mind’s eye. He smirked, and you knew immediately that he knew where your thoughts had continued to lead you.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, turning away. Across the way, you spotted Stephanie and Molly playing Twister, as well as someone else you didn’t recognize. 

“C’mon,” you told Gene. “Let’s go play a round with them.”

“I think you’re underestimating how tight these pants are. I bend over and they’re tearing apart. It’s over for me. My reputation will turn for the worse and not in a good way.”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe you should’ve grabbed something that fits better. Or a pair of jeans that isn’t low-rise.”

“Alas, I didn’t think I’d be playing Twister at a Halloween party.”

You dragged him along anyway, your cup balanced against your torso in the crook of your arm and your napkin of snacks slightly rumpled in your free palm. While you  joined the game of Twister, Gene became the new spinner and directed where everyone was going. After about the third time of falling face first into the ground, you moved on.

You ended up in a secluded corner with Gene. As secluded as it could get, anyway, considering Ophelia’s house was very open plan and there were at least two people staring in your direction. You and Gene weren’t necessarily standing close, but it was close enough that whoever looked hard enough fuel to start a rumor if they really wanted to. Not to mention that it was loud. You and Gene could barely hear each other without either yelling or leaning in.

Right now, you were leaning in. Gene was asking about Ophelia and Lalo, so you didn’t want to air out her business too loudly. Honestly, you were shocked he didn’t know. Not that it was super hot gossip or anything, but one big news story had made its way around the city a few years ago. You just figured he had dug deeper and connected the dots naturally.

“Remember when the Jaquez family was murdered?” Gene nodded, but you could tell he was confused about how that fit into the picture. An unsolved family annihilator case that had been drawn back to gang violence relating to sweet Ophelia Mishra and her kid? “Sammy was Lalo’s dad.”

Slowly, Gene nodded in understanding. He knew Ophelia and Sammy had been dating before then, but when Ophelia finally came out and said she was pregnant months later everyone (including Gene) assumed she had just moved on quickly. His fault, he supposed, for assuming that. He thought it was weird that she’d move along so quickly after the numerous breakdowns she had after her boyfriend’s death.

“I see it now.” Ophelia and Lalo were across the room. Gene wouldn’t say his memory was photographic, but he remembered what Sammy looked like pretty well—especially his eyes. They were pale jade, nearly transparent, and were striking against his thick lashes and tawny skin. Lalo had his same eyes, right down to the density of his father’s lashes. Gene was sure he’d grow into more features as he got older. “I guess I’ve never seen Lalo, so I never put much thought into who Ophelia slept with.”

You nodded absentmindedly, gaze resting on Ophelia. “She found out a week before Sammy died. She was already stressed about it and then . . . Irene, she wanted to kill herself.”

“Anyone would.” Gene definitely would have. He was sure there was more to the story, but you had gone quiet, and he didn’t want to force you down a mental pit. He pushed himself away from the mall and gently pried the plastic cup from your hand. “I’ll go get us more. Then, maybe we can go outside and take a gander at the games.”

You cracked a smile. “Sure. We can take a gander.”

When Gene rolled his eyes, you laughed, and watched him step into the kitchen. You could only keep your eyes on him long enough for Balto to sidle up beside him before your attention was drawn away by a loud giggle.

It wouldn’t have normally bothered you, but 1) it was very loud and 2) you recognized it. Except there was no way you could have recognized it because the person it belonged to stayed home.

Right?

Your eyes scanned the room, looking and looking for familiar brown hair with sage green streaks. Maybe even bottle blonde hair with lilac streaks, because wherever one was there was almost always the other. Maybe Lacy had convinced her to come out after all?

Gene’s finger brushed your shoulder, knocking you back into yourself. He raised a brow despite seeming mildly perturbed himself and held out your cup. “What’s up?”

You shook your head, taking the drink from his hand. He lifted his own to his lips as you lied and said, “Nothing. I just thought I heard someone call my name.”

He hummed, the sound reverberating through the plastic of his cup. No doubt he had some clever quip on the tip of his tongue, but his brows furrowed and he quickly pulled the drink away, looking at it like it had personally offended him.

You went to drink yours (it was already in your hand, so it was practically instinct), about to give some kind motion to ask what was wrong, but Gene was quick to put a hand over the opening of the cup before you could tip any of its contents into your mouth.

“Don’t drink that,” he said, sternly. He lifted his own again, took a whiff, and then another small sip. Then, he took yours back. “That’s spiked.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“I’m getting something different. Something closed, preferably.”

Gene took the cup back from your hands, but this time when he returned to the kitchen you followed close behind, twisting and turning around bodies to keep up. “What do you mean it’s spiked?”

“Do I really have to explain to you what spiked means?” No, but— “Someone put alcohol in there. Tastes like vodka.”

“How do you know what vodka tastes like?”

Gene deadpanned at you from over the trashcan. That was your next question?

You realized how dumb and airheaded it sounded. “Nevermind. Who do you think spiked it?”

He certainly had an idea. “No clue. Go dump it before someone else gets a drink.”

You weren’t a fan of the way he was ordering you around, but that was an insignificant problem compared to the fact that someone had spiked the big bowl of punch. So you turned, and when someone asked why you were pouring the pink liquid down the sink, you plainly told them why. Ophelia was by your side no less than two seconds later.

“What do you mean it’s spiked?” You shrugged. “Most people got searched before they came in.”

True. You had to open your purse at the door and Gene had to pull out his pockets to prove there was nothing nefarious. “Maybe it came in after that or someone just slipped by.”

Ophelia cursed under her breath, eyes scanning around. “I don’t know who it could be. I know everyone here and none of them are the kind of person to do this, but . . .”

She trailed off, but when you glanced over your shoulder you were able to guess who she was looking at and why she stopped talking.

Gene. She didn’t know him—not the real him and not like she knew everyone else. She knew the picture, the tyrannical ruler that sat upon a throne of popularity and held all the cards, who was willing to do what it took to make someone else stumble.

You quickly shook your head. “Gene wouldn’t do that.”

“I didn’t say he would.”

“Then why— Never mind.” You pulled the freshly rinsed bowl out of the sink and set it on the counter. “Find someone else to blame because it wasn’t him.”

Ophelia’s lips pursed, but she dropped the topic and continued to scan the room.

“I thought you said Julie stayed home?” she said.

“She did.”

“Then why is she here?”

You finally turned around, following Ophelia’s line of sight to where your sister was standing, laughing with Balto and a small group you didn’t recognize. You opened your mouth to say something, but found that your tongue had frozen. What was there to say?

Instead, you watched her—lips fallen open, brows furrowed. Confusion riddled your spine, turning to alarm and making the hair on your neck stand when you saw Julie lean into Balto’s touch. And it wasn’t just a friendly touch. No, she was definitely leaning against him and looking up at him with sparkling eyes like he’d hung the moon just for her.

And then you noticed she wasn’t entirely balanced, and it was difficult to see from this distance, but her corneas looked red. Pink?

Oh, fuck no.

You left Ophelia high and dry, spiked punch completely disregarded in your mind, and began stalking across the room. Your heels clicked against the tile floor with purpose, but when you entered Julie’s earshot and tried calling her name, you were—quite literally—whisked away.

Gene passed in front of you, placing a hand on your waist to turn and guide you in the opposite direction. You tried planting your feet, but they kept slipping along to keep up with Gene. You turned your head back, briefly making eye contact with Julie before Gene pushed you out of the house and you lost her completely.

You found the energy to speed up and get ahead of him, firmly anchoring yourself and facing him head on.

“What the hell are you doing?” You weren’t sure where the words came from, exactly. They sounded mean to your ears, and your tone definitely wasn’t helping. “Didn’t you see Julie?”

“Yes, and that’s why I’m dragging you away.” Gene reached for your wrist, but you were quick to step back and pull it from his grasp. “Y/n.”

“No, don’t Y/n me like I’m an idiot. That’s my sister in there and she looks high!” The sun was setting, so the street was practically void of passing cars and any day-joggers, but a few people still inside the house turned to look at you at your raised voice. “We can’t just leave her. She’s fourteen hanging out with a group of seniors—that’s weird!”

“She’s old enough to make her own decisions, Y/n. Who she chooses to hang out with is one of them.” Even if her choice is objectively stupid and entirely incorrect.

You scoffed. “Why are you so calm about this? Gene, that’s Balto. BALTO! Am I supposed to just be normal about this and not try to get her away?”

For once, Gene didn’t know what to say. After a moment, you thought it safe enough to shove past him and head back into the house to retrieve Julie and take her home without your parents noticing her intoxication. You’d drag her out by the hair if your had to. Getting home was one thing—you weren’t a big fan of Gene at the moment, but he was your ride here. And getting her into her room without alerting your parents was another matter entirely—

“What– Hey! Put me down, Gene. Gene!”

As childish as it was, you flailed your legs and hit Gene’s arms with your hand, trying and failing to wrestle yourself out of his hold. In your struggle, one of your shoes flew off and landed somewhere in the yard, which really did not help the whole “bratty bitch” thing you probably had going for you right about now.

You were so upset that you didn’t even think to conjure up some impure image about the way Gene manhandled you over his shoulder like a fucking sack of potatoes. You felt pathetic and useless, honestly, because how was it that he could push you around so fucking easily? He didn’t even look that strong!

“If you don’t put me down I’m gonna scream,” you said.

“Scream all you’d like, bunny, I’m taking you home.”

“I’m not leaving without Julie!”

“Julie’s being taken care of.” 

“What do you mean she’s being taken care of? Gene?” Gene opened the back door to his car and plopped you into the seat, closing the door and shutting it before you could even gather your bearings and push yourself out. “Gene!” You tried to open it, only to be reminded that Gene kept the child-lock in constant use because Zenix and Sasha (mostly Zenix) liked to open his doors while driving to push his buttons. You groaned, hitting the window and watching as he walked around to the driver’s seat. You attempted to climb over the center console and into the passenger seat, but the space was too cramped and you very quickly found out that you weren’t that flexible. 

“You look like an idiot.” Okay, now he sounded mean, which, in retrospect, was probably deserved. Looking back you’d realize that you were being somewhat unreasonable, but what are you supposed to do?

“Let me out of your car, Gene.” Your words fell on deaf ears because he did the exact opposite and moved the gear-shift to drive. You considered, for a moment, rolling down the window and climbing out, but your judgement wasn’t so clouded that you thought you’d be able to make it out of the car at all, let alone unscathed. You’d probably end up with a concussion.

“Julie’s gonna be fine. I told you that she’s being taken care of, and I can verify that the person keeping an eye on her is trustworthy.”

“You mean you knew that she’s . . . whatever?” you shouted. You scooted onto the edge of the seat, fitting your upper body between the seats and keeping your balance with the headrests. “You knew and you didn’t tell me.”

“I was waiting for the right time—”

“The right time? What right time is there to tell me that my freshman sister is hanging around someone notorious for dealing?” You were probably being a distraction, but you didn’t really care. If you were truly bothering Gene, he would just pull to the side of the road and lock his car. “There’s not a right time for something like that!”

Unless, of course, he was purposefully withholding that information from you. The reason why was absolutely unfathomable to you, seeing as you two had grown so close and—

That. That couldn’t be coincidence. When you first really started interacting with Gene he kept referring to you as part of the Shadow Knights—an honorary member. He had encouraged you joining a couple times at the start, but when he eventually dropped it you assumed he’d crossed you off the list and realized he liked you the way you had begun liking him.

But if getting you to join the Shadow Knights was his goal all along, then . . . It would make sense that he’d drop it to further lure you in. With how against it you were, he did it to lull you into a false sense of security while he dug up some secret to hold over your head so—

“Oh, my Irene! You were hiding this so you could blackmail me, weren’t you?”

“What?” He seemed alarmed. “No, I—”

“Irene, I’m so fucking stupid.” You hit the passenger headrest and Gene said your name in warning. “Everything between us has been a lie, hasn’t it? Every time we’ve flirted, our date, when we kissed. Was any of it real? Or was it all just a ploy to get me to join your stupid gang?”

He would’ve said something, but you were too fired up. “This is what everyone was talking about when they said you’re a bad person. You’re nothing but a liar and a manipulator, Gene, and I can’t believe I fell for your tactics.”

Unsuccessfully, you tried the door again. “Let me out.”

“I’m not letting you out. We’re two blocks from your house and I’m not letting you leave this conversation thinking—”

“I said let me out.”

It was childish, really, the way you were yelling at him. You never would’ve thought you had this in you. It wasn’t how the Y/n from last year would’ve reacted to this situation, but you didn’t know anything.

Gene relented. He pulled over on the street and slammed his door when he left. He came around to open yours. You tried bolting, but he held onto your shoulder. Down one shoe and so pissed off you were shaking, you were at a disadvantage.

“Look at me,” Gene demanded, turning you so there was no choice but to meet his piercing stare. “I am not trying to blackmail you, Y/n. I’m not trying to hold Julie over your head or—”

“I’m not going to—”

“Let me finish!”

Your mouth snapped shut. Obviously Gene yelled. That was nearly a given. Obviously he got mad, but you never would’ve expected it to be targeted toward you. Then again, you never expected that he’d blackmail you with the relationship that had been blooming. Or that you’d ever blow up at him. Or that Julie would do drugs.

Wasn’t today just full of surprises?

Gene took a second to make sure you didn’t say anything else before taking a deep breath and at least trying to get himself back together. “Stop pushing my buttons. Stop assuming the worst because I didn’t tell you one thing—”

“One thing that’s objectively very important!”

“—and stop interrupting me.” You huffed. “I’m trying to resolve this without getting you so roped into it you distract yourself and fail your classes again. I have the means to end this, I just need to play my cards right.”

“I could have helped you!” you shouted, completely uncaring that the sun had dipped below the horizon and you were on a residential street. No doubt the people inside the houses could hear you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care at that moment. “I’m closer to Julie. I could’ve—”

“So close that you couldn’t realize something was off? She’s been like this for weeks, Y/n.” He had a point. You hadn’t noticed her lately, too caught up in your own school stuff and relationships. You had practically shoved one of the most important ones under the rug in favor of . . . this.

And where was this now? A screaming match on the middle of the sidewalk. Was that all it was ever gonna amount to?

After a moment, Gene clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He let go of your shoulder so you were free to leave, but something left you rooted in that spot. Your feet felt heavy with lead, and if you left now you knew this conversation would be left without any closure, even if it only ended with a smidge.

“So what do you want me to do, Gene?” you retaliated, because acknowledging that you hadn’t been the best sibling lately wasn’t something you wanted to do. “What do I need to do so you don’t blow this out of proportion like you do with everyone else you blackmail?”

“I don’t want you to do anything—”

“Do you want me to join the Shadow Knights? Roll a joint and smoke it? Have sex with you? Date you?” Despite yourself, your voice cracked. You felt a burn at your waterline, but willed yourself to blink it away. “I would’ve done that if you’d just pretended a little longer.”

Gene scoffed. “Pretended? I find hundreds of excuses—pathetic ones—to bring you up and make a conversation about you with anyone I talk to and I’m the one pretending? Y/n, you haven’t even admitted that you like me!”

That made the breath in your lungs go out. Surely you have. You could recall it if you really tried—the words I like you slipping from your lips in a late night conversation or as a quiet confession in the school halls.

Now that you thought about it, you hadn’t. Not to him anyway, but the only people coming to mind that you had actually confirmed your feelings for Gene were Katelyn, Sasha, and maybe Lucinda. Everyone else assumed, given the date you had gone on, and although they could guess at how you truly felt, it was different than straight up telling the man of your affections.

“You know what you are? You’re selfish, Y/n, and you care too much about what others think. Any word I’ve gotten from others about how you feel about me always point to you wondering if you even want to date me. You deflect when I’m brought up because you don’t want a dark mark on your picture perfect reputation.”

“That is not true.” Gene had barely finished talking before the words tumbled out of your mouth.

“Oh, that’s right. You wouldn’t have minded that as long as you’d be able to tone it down. I’m just a project for you to fix because you’re bored, is that it?”

“No!”

“You’re telling me that dozens of people told you not to get involved with me—that I’mnothing but a manipulative asshole you shouldn’t even entertain the idea of—and you still chose to willingly look past that?” When Gene stepped closer to you, you took one back. “Everyone told you I was bad. That I’m always two steps ahead and you can’t trick me, but you just had to see for yourself if it was true, didn’t you?

“You know why you’re selfish, Y/n? Because you don’t listen to anyone else until it might involve you. All of your friends have had issues with me, all of them. No doubt they’ve told you, but because you weren’t involved, you didn’t care. But look at how quick you were to turn around and accuse me of using you as soon as the thought even entered your head.”

He noticed you stepping back for every movement forward he made, and he stopped. His eyeliner was smudged, which was intentional but while wearing it the color had slowly begun feathering out into nothing. His cheeks had a pinkish hue, though you knew it wasn’t from being romantic or embarrassed because Gene Accardi didn’t blush. You’d never seen him worked up, but now you knew blood rushed to his face when he was.

You tried to think of a response, but between your own heartbeat amplified in your ears and the tears blurring your vision, your tongue was dead in your mouth. 

After a moment of silence (which you desperately wanted to fill to defend yourself), Gene laughed. It wasn’t genuine or even one of yhe fake ones he gave to entertain a conversation, it sounded disbelieving.

“Y’know what?” he started, stepping backwards to his car. “I don’t give a fuck. See if I care about you making it home.”

Your eyes widened as he opened the driver door of his car. “What?” you stepped after him. “You can’t be serious. You-You’re just gonna leave it there?”

He hummed in confirmation, shutting the door behind him without another word. He reached for his key in the ignition and turned, starting up the car again. You knelt to take off your remaining shoe to even the field without limping against a heel.

“Gene,” you called, hoping he’d at least roll down the window. He barely spared you a glance as he switched the car into drive. “Gene! Oh- Fuck you!”

You didn’t mean it, but those were the only words your mouth was willing to form as he drove off. You groaned, wanting to scream at the top of your lungs and break something against the sidewalk. But it was dark, and you were in front of homes. You didn’t want to be an even bigger disturbance than you already had been.

Barefoot and defeated, you walk the final block and a half home. As you did, you let the tears go all fall and smear your makeup across your cheeks. There were no cars in the driveway, meaning both your parents were out doing Irene knows what.

Good. That meant you could cry as loud as you wanted and that Julie would get home unnoticed. You had to put it in the hands of the Divine now, seeing as you couldn’t exactly walk all the way back to Ophelia’s house.

You just hoped she was okay. That she would be okay.

sorry for the late update guys, I was busy getting my diploma and recovering from burnout but anyway!

i sincerely hope this chapter was worth the wait. I think I chose this one specifically to go on an unplanned hiatus for because it's where the plot gets thick, so there would at least be a reason for waiting ykwim? but anyway let me know your thoughts :)

side note: i think the site i use for the smau got complaints??? idk but don’t mind the watermark, i’m still trying to find a good platform to do media on

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