There she stood, Trisha — the perfect picture of innocence. Her big doe eyes shining, her dark hair curled just so. She wore a pale sky blue dress that made her look even more fragile than usual, and in her hands… a peanut pie.
I stared at it for half a beat. She knew I was allergic.
“Alli,” she cooed, smiling sweetly. “Sister… I brought you a slice of my birthday pie. Come down and join the party, won’t you?”
Her voice was syrupy, affectionate on the surface but thin enough for me to see right through it.
“No thanks,” I said coldly, folding my arms. “I’ve got work to do. Have fun.”
Her eyes immediately shimmered with unshed tears, her lower lip quivering. “You… don’t like me, do you?” she whispered pitifully. “Is that why you always avoid me?”
I clenched my jaw. Moon above, I hadn’t done anything to this girl — and yet she always managed to look like I’d ripped her heart out.
“Trisha,” I said flatly, “save the act. It might work on Ryan and Warren, but it doesn’t work on me.”
I reached for the door, ready to close it in her face. But her hand shot out, blocking the frame.
“Allison, wait—”
I glared down at her slender fingers pressed to the wood.