Jealousy Best Served Devious (Clash Of Cliches Book 1)

Chapter 12- The Boardwalk

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Chapter Twelve

The Boardwalk

It was 8.45 on Saturday morning and mom was pissed the hell off. Dad, Arielle and I sat at the kitchen table on tenterhooks, watching and wincing whenever she slammed pots and pans around on the counter, rebuffing dad's attempts to help her make breakfast.

Somebody had unwisely woke her up before 9am, and we were all paying for it. But since that somebody was Arielle, (she had a rare nightmare and clambered into mom and dad's bed, waking them up with her cold hands and feet) and she wasn't known for being wise at all, dad and I weren't going to play the blame game. I shot a happily humming Arielle a mean side eye.

Even though I really wanted to...

After breakfast, we all escaped from the kitchen gratefully. Mom had burnt the eggs, but none of us dared to complain. When she was in one of her sleep deprived moods, we all knew it was best to stay out of her way after she singlehandedly ruined breakfast for us before cleaning any and everything in her vicinity. Dad went to potter around in the backyard and Arielle followed him, handing him his gardening tools like a miniature operating nurse. I took a quick shower then went to my room, intending to put the finishing touches on my Wuthering Heights essay.

My good intentions lasted exactly 7 minutes.

Hey, for me, that's pretty impressive! Writing about the Lipton's soon started to bore me and I closed the document a couple of lines in. Stretching out on my bed, I decided to see what was going on in Facebook land. I wasn't an active Facebooker because I saw all my friends on a daily basis, so I usually just logged in to look at pictures. Specifically, pictures of Ryder and his lean, tanned body. And before you call me out for being obsessed, I'll have you know that he added me.

I leisurely scrolled down my newsfeed, mock barfing as I skimmed Shelly's diabetically cutesy status update (chilling with my boo-ski!), giggling at Janessa's duck face in what was supposed to be a serious picture with the rest of her softball team and wishing that Brandon would see the light soon and get a Facebook account. Not likely. The only electronic device Brandon owned was his prized scientific calculator. Weird, considering we have a mutual hate for math, but whatever.

My heart almost stopped as I finally came across something Ryder Jefferson related. I let out a howl of pain and anguish, clutching my throw pillow to my chest, since I didn't have any pearls to clutch. Ryder had, after approximately 3 months, finally updated his profile picture.

I had, not to sound all obsessive or anything, been waiting for him to get rid of the picture he had taken with a girl dressed as sexy cupid at some valentine's party for a while now, and he finally had. Unfortunately, the picture he had replaced it with was...

"What is all this?" I wailed to myself, my eyes wide and horrified as I drank in his new profile picture, unable to look away. Three utterly random thoughts rose to the forefront of my mind as I tortured myself, staring at the picture that should have been of Ryder and me but wasn't, because Queen Celeste got there first.

Stupid peroxide orange haired skank!

Thought one.

His tongue has got to be in her mouth.

Thought two.

Who the hell took that picture?

Thought three.