“Becky,” Creed says, nice and slow and quiet, but with a dripping menace that makes me shiver. “Go to hell.” She snaps her gaze over to him, but she’s still fuming. “Zayd spent every day after school in the kitchen this week perfecting those chocolates. He ruined over twenty boxes worth. It’s more than just candy, sweetie. Now get.” “You don’t control me, Creed Cabot,” Becky snaps, tossing her blond hair. “You’re no higher on the totem pole than I am.”
