Spitefully Yours

Copyright © 2023 by Aja Jorgensen All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Also by Aja Jorgensen Love to Spare Contents Dedication Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Acknowledgments About the Author Dedication For those that have ever felt like they weren’t enough Prologue The first time it happened was almost an accident. It was the end of my freshman year of college and I was at another fraternity party. Most of those parties blur together, but this one was different. One of the fraternity brothers reminded me so much of a guy I liked in high school. You know when you see someone and feel instantly transported to the past? It was like that. I couldn’t stop watching him. He had the same long blonde hair, goofy smile and kept bragging about how much money he had. I doubt it was actually his money but he was the kind of person that thought his parent’s money was his money. The kid in my high school was the same. He “innocently” bragged about his parent’s money by constantly talking about his new phone, new car, etc. I’d like to think I’d be smart enough back then not to fall for it, but of course, I had a tendency to ignore the obvious red flags. I fell for his preppy style and fancy toys, and when he promised me I would be invited to his next house party, I kept waiting and waiting for the invitation that never came. I never got invited to any of them. So, when I saw this guy at the fraternity party bragging about his money, I walked right past him knowing better than to waste my time. I had already learned my lesson. I watched as his eyes scanned over me, shamelessly staring, eyes lingering. He stood up and sauntered towards me as if he owned the place. The look on his face showed no doubt that I would beg to be with him. I bit on my lip to try and contain the laugh threatening to come out as I watched him walk confidently towards me. When he reached me and demanded my name, I was nice at first, humoring him. It was funny how many of the same lines he used as the kid in my high school. For a minute I wondered if it was the same kid, or maybe his brother. When he asked if he could have my number and go out sometime, I could see the overconfident look all over his face. But underneath the cockiness, I picked up on his sense of hope and desperation. I realized for once that I had the power, and it felt good. I was the one in control. I told him to wait for the invite and that I would text Chapter One AGE 12 Sixth grade is scary and being in a new school doesn’t help. I’ve heard so many horror stories about middle school but I’m confident it will be different for me. I slather on lots of cover-up to try and hide the zit on my cheek, and I’m wearing my new favorite skirt and top. I see him in my first class. His name is Ward and he has that bad boy vibe with his tight pants, skater shoes and long hair. I feel instantly nervous when the teacher introduces me and he briefly glances my way. He looks bored and my stomach squirms. After a week we get new seating assignments, and I’m shaking when I get seated next to Ward. “Hi,” I say quietly when he sits down beside me. “Sup,” he replies without even looking at me. “I’m Tanvi,” I add. He nods in response. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t tell me his name, I already know it. I swallow and feel giddy as I pull out my notebook, ready to take notes. Ward is too cool for notes. He sleeps during most of class, grabs his skateboard and leaves without another word. The next day I’m determined to talk to him, and have a whole list of conversation starters that I had practiced and memorized. I don’t need any of them though. When he sits next to me, he leans close and whispers, “Did you do the homework?” I nod and he smiles. “Good. Can I see it?” I scramble to pull it out of my bag and pray that the answers are right as he quickly copies them onto his paper. “You’re really smart. I’m glad we can be partners,” he smiles as he hands me back the paper. My cheeks flush red as I stammer out a thank you. We don’t talk the rest of the class but this time he says a quick goodbye before he leaves. The rest of the week follows the same pattern. Ward copies my homework and I use it as an excuse to talk to him. He mostly talks about his favorite skate park and his best tricks. I open up to him and explain how hard it is to move in the middle of the school year. We had to move when my Dad got a new job. It was just the two of us and it broke my heart to leave my friends. I was so vulnerable and honest with him because I just knew we were going