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Today it’s gum. But what about tomorrow? Or the next day?
My breaths come in short spurts and I make eye contact with myself in the mirror. This is not going to be me. Not here. If I do break down, it will be in my bed at home. No one can see this getting to me here.
With new resolve, I grab more paper towels, this time two feet worth, and I dampen them under the running water.
"So disgusting," I mutter under my breath as I vigorously scrub at the sticky residue. After a few minutes of determined effort, I think I've got it all.
Of course, now I'm late for class.
I shut off the water, snatch my books off the floor, and haul ass out of the bathroom. As I’m weaving through the maze of an exit, my body collides with another.
“Watch it, Gumby!” The tall blonde seethes as she stands there with her nose stuck in the air, eyes peering down at me. She’s a good three inches taller than me with a perfect frame. Long legs stretch out from her jean miniskirt and her cleavage peeks from her low-hung white tee shirt. Her skin is flawless, her eyes glowing blue.
It takes me a second to register where I’ve seen her before, but it all clicks pretty quickly. She’s the girl from the party. The one Rome was sucking face with in the midst of hitting on me. I can tell by her nasal voice she’s the same girl who coughed out ‘narc’ when I told on Rome and his friends for throwing gum in my hair. Hence, the nickname she seems to have plagued with me—Gumby. It’s fitting, I suppose, but also childish on her part. It’s easy to assume she's on Rome’s side. I mean, who in this school isn’t?
I step around her, but I’m stopped by her shrill voice. “I’m Abby, by the way.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Abby.” It’s a lie, but it’s better than telling her the truth—that I don’t care who she is. “I’m Elodie. Not Gumby.”
“So, you live with the Cromwell boys, huh?” When I look at her, I can immediately see that she’s not asking a question, rather fishing for information.
“I do,” I tell her, though she already knows.
“I see.” She nods in slow, subtle movements while examining her nails, freshly coated in bright pink gel. “Well,” she begins, eyes now on mine. They’re stern and serious as she says, “If you think for a second you’ve got a chance with Rome, or Wilder…you don’t. So…”
“I don’t think that at all.” I laugh, though there is no humor in the sound that escapes me. “Rome and Wilder are my stepbrothers. And even if they weren’t, I don’t go for guys that are complete assholes.”
“Good.” She plasters a fake smile on her face. “Because Rome doesn’t date…like, anyone. He’s a fuckboy. And right now, he’s mine. So, fair warning, you’ll probably see me around at night.”
I wanna laugh so hard right now. This poor girl. She’s bragging about being used by Rome for sex. She actually thinks that makes her special.
“In that case, I’ll see you around…but only at night, that is.” I shake my head in disbelief as I leave.
For some reason that conversation cheers me up a bit. I might have to deal with Rome and his taunting, but I will never have to spread my legs for him, only to be thrown out the next morning like trash.
It’s quiet out in the hall now, practically empty, aside from a couple stragglers who are in no hurry to get to where they need to be. But I’m in a hurry. Which is obvious by the way I’m practically running down the hall, my long brunette hair blowing behind me. I need to get away before Abby has anything more to say. At this point, I’m already late for class, so once there’s a good distance between myself and the restroom, I slow to a steady walk.
So, Rome is a fuckboy? I’m not surprised. And Abby is definitely someone I could see Rome falling for, and vice versa. They’re both attractive and confident. She’s probably the head cheerleader, and he’s the quarterback. They’re a match made in heaven, if you ask me.
I wonder how long they’ve been fuck buddies. Or if their relationship could be heading somewhere. Abby says Rome doesn’t date, but if he’s keeping her around, he must have some feelings for her.
Ugh. Stop thinking about them, Elodie. Stop thinking about him.
I pick up my pace, getting to class eight minutes late. The teacher waves me to the back and I shrink in my seat as fast as I can, hating that I’m already making a spectacle of myself in this school. For someone who doesn’t like to stand out, I’m sure doing a lot of that lately.
“He’s an asshole,” the girl next to me whispers while looking straight ahead and listening to the teacher’s lecture.
I turn to look at her with questioning eyes. I’m not sure I’ve seen her before. She’s got chin-length caramel hair that matches the color of mine. She’s a petite little thing, wearing an army green turtleneck sweater dress with a band of silver bracelets on her sleeve.
“Excuse me?” I say to her in a hushed tone.
“Rome. He’s an asshole.” She looks at me, eyebrows raised. “I think it’s cool that you’re not letting him bring you down. Keep your chin up and show him he’s not getting to you. He hates that.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell her with a low giggle. “I’m Elodie, by the way.”
She offers me her hand, a wide smile on her face. “Julia.”
“It's nice to meet you, Julia.”
