THE SECOND I walk into my apartment, a storm hits.
A tall, slender, blonde storm with a penchant for gossip and drama.
“How-” Luna shrieks, slamming the front door shut behind her and tossing the heels in her hand aside. “-the actual fuck did I not know that your old neighbor Cassie is the Cass Morgan?”
With a tired sigh, I collapse on our sofa, letting my own heels drop to the floor. “Lu, I didn’t even know my Cass was the Cass Morgan. I didn’t even know there was a the Cass Morgan.”
Apparently, I’ve been living under a rock for the past year. A rock impermeable to any baseball-related news. Because my Cass, Cass Morgan, the Cass Morgan, is something of a legend around here. He’s the star of UCSV’s baseball team, unsurprisingly. Sun Valley’s very own household name. Lu knew who he was, Kate knew who he was, and I’m a little embarrassed that I didn’t.
Oblivious, I say.
Isolated, Luna claims, from all things non-Dylan related.
Either way, the information skipped right over me.
“Did you guys really never hook up? Because there were major touchy-feely vibes going on there and I’ve never seen you willingly partake in PDA with, like, anyone. Ever.”
I almost give myself whiplash shaking my head so hard. “Definitely not. I told you, he’s like my brother.”
“Brother-brother or step-brother because the latter…”
Luna’s joke ends in a grunt as my foot hits her stomach. “You’re sick.”
“Forget Cass.” Kate plops down on the sofa beside me, legs crossed beneath her, expression insistent. “What happened with Dylan?”
“Oh yeah! Tell us about that,” Lu screeches, her lithe body completing our trio as she snuggles in between us, her head hitting my lap at the same time her feet land on Kate’s. “God, you’ve had an eventful twenty-four hours, hm?”
“Hey.” I poke the narrow strip of belly exposed above the waistband of her borrowed sweats—Jackson’s, undoubtedly. “Pot, kettle, black.”
In a typical show of Luna-style avoidance, she pretends to be overly intrigued by a chip in her manicure. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Kate snorts, making Luna jolt when she tickles the soles of her feet. “Okay, Mrs Oscar Jackson.”
One of the decorative pillows littering our sofa smacks Kate in the face, and I get a wallop too as punishment for my giggle. “You two are so dramatic,” the queen of drama chastises us.
“And you,” Kate snickers, “are officially dicked down.”
Luna’s head flies upright. “Take that back.”
My fingers yank on a lock of her hair. “You did sleep over.”
Her head falls back into my lap again, an accusing look directed upwards at me. “So did you!”
“I passed out,” I correct her. “Next to Kate, not a hook-up.”
“And you were all over him this morning,” Kate adds, earning herself another pillow-slap.
“I was not.”
A scoffed laugh escapes me. “Tell that to the imprint of your ass on his lap.”
“You!” A white-tipped finger stabs into my chest. “Stop tryna change the subject! Dylan. Break-up. Go.”
Despite the gut feeling insisting that I’m not going to get out of this without providing details, I still aim for nonchalance. “We just broke up.”
Slowly, with a sigh, Luna sits up. “You just broke up,” she repeats, blinking at me. “Seriously?”
Avoiding her gaze, I shrug.
“Nope.” Blonde hair flies as Luna’s head shakes from side to side. “Bulllshit. Cough it up.”
My relenting sigh echoes off the walls. I could keep playing dumb, could try to keep the full extent of last night under wraps, but honestly, I’m too tired.
So, I cough it up. I give as thorough a play-by-play of last night as I can tolerate, skillfully glossing over the more… aggressive aspects. I’ve already had one breakdown today; I’m not shooting for a second.
And I would’ve gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for that damn perceptive Kate.
Lips pursed, she reaches across Luna’s lap. Gentle fingers seek out my arm, holding me below the elbow and lifting until my sleeve slips down, revealing the evidence of my half-truths. “And this?”
Wriggling my arm out of her grip, I shrug. “Oh, uh, I think I got that on my half-naked jaunt this morning.”
“I saw it last night.” Kate debunks my lie easily. “I saw your hip too.”
Lu’s ears prick up like a freaking dog’s. “What happened to your hip?”
“Nothing.” I slap away the hands making a beeline for the waistband of my sweats. Nick’s sweats, I remind myself. God, I dread having to give them back, and not only because they’re comfy as hell. “I don’t remember, okay?” I lie through my teeth. “I must’ve fallen or something.”
“Amelia,” Kate murmurs my name gently. “You don’t have to lie to us.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You’re protecting him.” Luna stands with a huff, hands braced on her hips as she pins me in place with a no-nonsense stare. “Like you did last-”
Me abruptly shooting to my feet cuts Luna off. “I need to shower.”
I need to not have this conversation.
I need to not think about him or my wrist or anything.
My friends call after me as I flee the room but I ignore them, shutting out their voices with the soft click of my bedroom door locking. My sigh of relief mingles with the thud of my forehead hitting the closed door, resting there for a moment as I relish the silence I’ve been trying to avoid all day. Because that’s the theme of today, it seems. Avoidance. And I intend to continue with it as long as possible.
My tiny bedroom has never looked as good as it does right now, but it’s nothing compared to my microscopic ensuite. The shower calls to me as I stride towards it, peeling off my clothes and letting them fall to the floor as I go. It’s as I reach to flick on the shower, practically purring as warm water begins to stream, that I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror hanging above the sink.
Jesus, I look like shit.
A face so pale it’s almost transparent stares back at me. Half-lidded, red-rimmed eyes look a little less green than usual. My hair really takes the cake though; at some point last night, someone piled it into a sorry excuse for a bun and there it remains, like a bird’s nest atop my head, limp curls making drastic attempts for escape. It’s a miracle Cass even recognised me, to be honest.
It’s a miracle Nick hit on me, even if it was a flirtation born of pity.
Any semblance of a smile that might’ve been summoned when thinking of the odd moment we shared suddenly dies when my gaze lands on the ugly purple bruises—the perfect shape and size of fingertips—peppering my hip. They’re so small, only noticeable due to the stark contrast between their color and my alabaster skin, yet the disgust swirling in my gut is anything but small. The disappointment, in the person who did it to me as well as in myself for letting it happen. The embarrassment, the anger, none of them are small and they all meld together in a cesspool of overwhelming emotion I can’t stem because I can’t take my eyes off the source.
Only when steam obscures my view do I step away from the mirror, the immense need to scrub last night from my body overtaking my morbid fascination. Scalding water burns my skin as I step into the shower, a burn I’m grateful for because, shit, I’d rather feel that than the ache in my chest. I’d rather feel the tingling uncomfortableness of oversensitized skin as I scrub and scrub and scrub, wishing the discolored contusions would wash down the drain with the rest of the dirt and grime.
No such luck.
It’s the middle of the night when my bedroom door creaks open, light spilling in the crack along with two shadows. Ordinarily, a girl would be worried at the sudden intrusion. And I probably would be.
If one of the shadows wasn’t wearing a pink satin nightgown and bunny slippers, the other clad in the t-shirt I’ve been looking for for a month.
Pausing the movie I was half-watching, I set my laptop on the nightstand as they creep towards me, jostling each other and shushing each other, trying to be quiet and failing miserably. Without a word but with a heavy sigh, I shove down my duvet so they can crawl beneath, a body curling up on either side of me.
“I’m sorry.” A lithe arm wraps around my middle, a bunny slipper poking my foot. “I didn’t mean to push.”
“I know.” Luna never does. I learned very soon in our relationship that in Lu’s mind, boundaries are made to be pushed. And push, she does.
Frequently.
With the best of intentions, of course, a fact that’s proven when she whispers, “I’m worried about you.”
That, I know too.
I set a hand on her arm, my palm coasting up and down the smooth skin. “I wanna forget about it, okay? I don’t wanna talk about him.”
The satin hair wrap Kate wears to bed at night is soft against my skin as she tucks her head into the crook of my neck, a third arm joining our pile as she wraps her fingers around mine and squeezes gently. “It might help.”
It’s not often that I disagree with Kate, mostly because the girl is always right, but this is one of those rare occasions. I don’t feel like it’ll help. I feel like talking about him, about it, will only make it worse. Make me worse. “Can we talk about something else please?”
Two sighs sound, one more of a disapproving huff, the other disappointed. “Fine.” Luna relents, and I almost wish she hadn’t because the playful grin lighting up her face as she props herself up on her elbow and peers down at me is undoubtedly worse than discussing my past relationship would’ve been. “How about you tell us what’s going on with you and Nicolas Silva?”
I choke on a laugh of disbelief. “Excuse me?”
“There was a vibe,” my delusional friend sings, fair brows waggling suggestively.
“There was no vibe!”
Husky laughter harmonizes with Luna’s evil cackle. “Oh, there absolutely was.”
“Kate!” God, do I hate when they gang up on me like this.
Shrugging, her lips curl up at the corners. “Just saying.”
Like I said, delusional. Both of them. The only vibe between Nick and I was discomfort. Awkwardness. Intense, consuming embarrassment. A hint of kindness I wasn’t expecting but I was grateful for all the same. Unless the girls happened to witness our bathroom encounter—which I still maintain was born out of pity—nothing akin to the vibe they’re hinting at existed between Nick and I.
Luna makes a humming noise as she stretches out beside me, still grinning. “He’s a total player, you know.”
I didn’t know that. I suspected it, definitely; the guy looks like heartbreak wrapped up in a perfectly sculpted package. He looks like the kind of guy to ruin a girl’s life, honestly, with one wink of those pretty golden eyes.
“But he seems nice.”
Kate elbows me, lips pursed in a sorry attempt to hide her smile. “He does.”
“And he’s hot.”
I grunt a non-answer, careful not to give Luna what she’s not-so-discreetly poking around for. Unsurprisingly, my silence does nothing to deter her. “Excellent in bed, too.”
Side-eying her, I quirk a brow. “You know that from experience?” I know the answer before Luna provides it; if she’d brought Nick home before, I definitely would’ve noticed. And if she’d been in that house before last night, we would’ve known about it; Luna is a lot of things, and shy is not one of them. Her exploits are a regular breakfast topic between the three of us and a guy like Nick undoubtedly would’ve been breaking news.
Knowing all this, I still feel oddly relieved at the shake of her head. For the sake of Jackson, obviously. Nice guys never like sharing.”
“People talk,” Luna explains with a nonchalant wave. “Particularly drunk girls lamenting over the boy who ghosted them. They talk a lot.”
My nose wrinkles. Sure, Kate, Luna, and I share the intimate details of our hookups on a regular basis. Or at least, Kate and Luna do; I’ve never had much to share. But that’s done privately. Quietly. Whispered or giggled over a cup of coffee while hunched over a table tucked away in the corner of whatever cafe we stumble in.
Yelling that information for everyone around to hear? I’m not a fan. I value my privacy. I couldn’t imagine having my sex life broadcasted around campus for all to comment on.
“Is there a point to your rambling?”
“Is there ever?” Kate quips, earning her a pink bunny slipper to the face.
Luna glares at Kate momentarily before returning her attention to me. “You know what they say.” At my blank stare, Luna continues, “The best way to get over someone is to get under someone new.”
“That is terrible advice.” Kate groans, the slapping sound of her face-palming ringing in my ears. “Please, do not take relationship advice from her.”
“Hey, I’m very wise.” Playing offended, Luna scoffs, mouth gaping as she flattens a hand against her chest. The charade only lasts a moment before she breaks, a smile splitting her face once again as she nudges me. “He asked for your number.”
Suspicion, and something else I can’t put a name to, tickles my spine. “When?”
“Like, an hour ago. Nick asked Jackson to ask me for it. Cass slapped him.”
I snort. Sounds about right. “Did you give it to him?”
My friend feigns offense once again. “Excuse me, no. Girl code.” Like before, it takes no time for her grin to slip out again. “Do you want me to?”
Dark fingers flick her on the forehead. “Hey, how about we let her be single for longer than ten seconds before tryna shuck her off on another man?”
Luna flops onto her back with a huff. “You’re so boring.”
“It’s called being sensible,” Kate retorts. “You should try it some time.”
“Like I said. Boring.”
