AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 33
Astrid
I walk out of the gallery and head toward the dining hall. Terri is being too hard on Charlotte for something he messed up on his own. But I get it. Charlotte is like a breathtaking vision in the distance. But when your ass finally reaches the top of the pedestal, you find out she’s human like the rest of us. The conversation has me thinking, and not about good things. No matter how it went down, I’ll always feel like I stole Bryce from Charlotte. I doubt they’re in love, but she wanted to marry him. I don’t understand the maneuvering in this place. But who am I to judge?
Charlotte and Wren stand by the dining hall door, loitering but not going in. She sees me and waves while Wren screws up her lips and then looks away. I ignore the pettiness and walk toward Charlotte with a smile on my face. I’m the shittiest sister on earth. I just told my sister’s boyfriend to dump her, and now, I’m smiling in her face, literally. Charlotte should hate me, and I wouldn’t blame her.
“There you are.” Charlotte’s curious gaze passes over my outfit. “Are those new shoes?”
They aren’t, but that’s a standard opening line to any conversation with her. New, plus any object that you have or you’re wearing, is a Stonehaven ice-breaker.
I shake my head. “No, they’re yours. I spray painted them black.”
Wren stares down at my feet in Charlotte’s cast-off kitten heels. The look of shock and then horror in Wren’s eyes makes me giggle. Wren steps back as if she can’t be near a person that repurposes her clothes. Charlotte leans into me and smiles at the masterpieces on my feet.
“The gossip machine is overloaded with talk about you and Pierce.” Charlotte lifts a perfectly penciled brow. “You went on a date with a boy you love to slap.” She looks at Wren and nudges her with her elbow. “I told you she was wild. No wonder the boys look so tired and bruised.”
Wren doesn’t laugh as she spots a group of girls she’d rather hang with. She leaves us with barely a wave goodbye. And I’m glad when Charlotte decides to hang with me instead. We don’t speak as we walk away from the door. It’s as if we think in sync, not wanting to be overheard.
“How did you find out about Pierce?” I ask.
Charlotte laughs, grabbing my arm and tugging me toward the stone gate. “You two were seen kissing by the dining hall. Come on, Astrid. You kiss a boy on campus, and people will see and then talk.”
“We need to talk, BTW.” It’s suddenly quiet as Charlotte eyes me, and I try to gather the courage to admit what just happened. I’d rather punch an opponent in the face than tell Charlotte what I know about Terri. But when I gaze into her big blue eyes, I can’t admit what I know. The word coward rings in my brain. But I just can’t. Not while she’s staring at me.
“You want to go somewhere and talk?” she says. “We can sit in the private bathroom.”
I start. “No, I don’t want to go there.”
“That’s funny,” she laughs, “You always go there.”
Heat rises on my face as if it’s ninety degrees outside and not thirty. Charlotte grabs my hand and pulls me toward the dorms. I can’t even look her in the eye as she speaks.
“You two are loud, Astrid. I mean, you can’t hear it on our floor, but you can if you’re standing by that outside door.” She rolls her eyes dramatically.
“Do you still think Bryce is getting it out of his system?” I ask moodily, watching for her reaction.
But Charlotte’s easy smile doesn’t slip. “The way it sounds? All that hollering for God and banging furniture? It’s going to take years for him to get that out of his system.”
“That meaning me?” I ask.
“Oh, Astrid, don’t be sensitive. You’re comfortable being physical. And that’s okay.”
Suddenly, having that talk doesn’t seem so difficult anymore. We go to her room naturally, and it’s fine with me. At least I can walk out if it gets too uncomfortable, and I plop down on her purple couch. Charlotte sits at her desk, turning her chair to face me.
“Charlotte, I spoke to Terri.”
She sighs. “And what did he say about me? Judging from your face, it probably wasn’t good.”
I freefall without a net. “He wants to break up.”
“No, he cannot do that,” she replies, sounding as matter-of-fact as a judge passing a life sentence.
I stare at her, trying to figure out her attitude. “Do you even like him? I don’t mean to be rude, but you never seem that excited by him.”
She hesitates, looking around the room as if I’ve read her mind. “Of course I like him. I wouldn’t marry him if I didn’t like him a little bit.”
I stare into her eyes, amazed by her presumption. “Has he even asked?”
