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Fuck, stop caring so much.
But I can’t help it. There’s a pit in my stomach, just sitting there, growing with each passing minute. And it’s only getting worse as the days go by, not easier.
Or maybe it’s because I know I have more frat events coming up that I’ll need dates for and I was planning on asking her to be my fake date at all of them? In previous years, dates were optional. Hell, events were optional. But now as a senior, every event is required, and sometimes dates are. If you don’t bring one, it’s not like you’ll get kicked out but I’m not about to show up without one.
I doubt Everleigh will go after what happened. How can I blame her? She’ll never live it down, the guys will be dicks, and I don’t want to embarrass her more than she already is.
I’ve lost my appetite and SpongeBob isn't making me laugh. I shut it off, bring my half eaten bowl of cereal to the sink, and put away the milk and box of Lucky Charms.
This sucks. I need to figure out how to make it up to her and fast. I can’t even enjoy my favorite things. I climb back in bed, throw the covers over my head, and check my phone for the millionth time since I’ve been awake.
Nothing still.
Fuck it. If she doesn’t want to even attempt to acknowledge my apology over text, she sure as shit won’t want to see me in person, so whatever. I need to get out of this bad mood before it ruins my entire day, possibly my entire weekend.
Instead of texting Ev again, I text one of my hook ups that’s always down to fuck. She responds right away like usual and I make plans to meet up with her later.
See, easy. Fuck caring.
Last weekend is nothing more than a distant memory now.
That is until she’s directly in front of me at tonight’s frat party.
But not with Lennox or Maia.
But with fucking Bryson.
I blink to make sure what I’m seeing is correct. Sure enough, her arm is interlocked with his and he’s grinning like a proud asshole.
What the fuck?
Everleigh’s expression is guarded, her face not giving anything away. She won’t even look at me, keeping her eyes on Bryson or down in front of her.
This is all on purpose, isn’t it? She’s turning the tables on me.
She’s trying to embarrass me and piss me off now in front of my frat guys. Ain’t gonna happen. Because you’d have to care to have emotions and I don’t fucking care.
“Yo, bro, two of your special drink of the night, please.”
“Sure. Nice to see you here with a lady tonight.” Bryson is almost always flying solo, usually trying to hook up with any girl that’ll have him. He’s more of a man whore than me and that’s saying a lot.
“Isn’t she cute?” The question sounds so slimy. I want to deck him in the face and pull Everleigh behind the kitchen island/makeshift bar with me. “You don’t mind that I brought her here right? She said you two weren’t anything to each other so I thought it was cool to ask.”
Huh, guess we’re not even friends now. Strangers? Acquaintances? Whatever, can’t say I didn’t deserve that blow.
“It’s all good man. Not the first time someone’s wanted my sloppy seconds.”
Bryson glares at me but I ignore him. I’m watching Everleigh, waiting for her reaction. She looks at me and then away again, her expression still hard as stone.
“Ain’t nothing sloppy about her. Not even her kisses.”
My back stiffens. He kissed her? He fucking kissed her?
Now she’s watching me, waiting for my reaction, but I don’t show it. I swallow it down and hide my clenched fists at my side. I hold her gaze back, ignoring the look of satisfaction written all over Bryson’s dumbass face. The urge to punch him square in the nose is hard to ignore.
This is all so stupid. Give them their drinks and move on.
I say nothing and busy myself with the job at hand After pouring three drinks, because suddenly I need another, I hand them theirs, take mine and down it in one go, toss the cup on the counter, and leave the kitchen.
