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After a few attempts at texting Penn, I give up. She’s probably asleep, and I know she turns her phone off at night.
When the shuttle finally arrives almost an hour later, I flash my student card to the driver, then sink down into the seat and stare out of the window.
I really thought that Eli had meant what he’d said to me tonight. When he’d first seen me, he’d looked completely stunned, and then...
Well, he’d looked like he’d wanted me, and I’d felt vindicated. Later, when we’d danced and he’d told me I looked amazing, I’d felt that same vindication again.
It’s my own fault for reading anything into what he’d said. Because it was nothing but an illusion—the way I’d looked, the way he’d looked at me, and the things he’d said.
It was all just smoke and mirrors.
For one night, I’d felt like Cinderella, and I’d been happy that the prince had finally noticed me. But it wasn’t really me that he’d noticed. It was a girl wearing a costume, pretending to be something that she wasn’t—something she could never truly be.
Because I wasn’t the girl in the peach dress and sexy boots.
Okay, maybe for one night, but that wasn’t who I would ever be, day in and day out.
I’m the girl who is too lazy to wear makeup. Who lives in old, worn jeans, band t-shirts, and purple Converse sneakers. Who wears leopard print glasses and doesn’t make time to do her hair. Who loves music and hates small talk.
That’sme.
And if someone can’t see the real me and appreciate me for who I really am?
Well, fuck them.
The shuttle stops in front of my building, and I trudge off of the bus and head for the front door. Once inside, I decide to wait for the elevator, because I’m too physically exhausted to climb four flights of stairs after myForrest Gump-like marathon.
When the elevator doors open, I practically run down the hall to my dorm room. All I want is to peel off this dress, scrub off my makeup, then climb into bed.
Sighing, I open the door. I’m looking forward to the quiet, because I’m sure Mandi will still be at her party, and—
I stop short in the doorway and gasp.
Just when I think my bruised and battered heart can’t take another hit, I see Mandi and Eli sitting together on her bed.
And they’re kissing.
8
Kissing.
Here, in my dorm room, right in front of my face. After they’ve—afterhe’d—already humiliated me at that stupid fucking party.
My gasp interrupts their intimate tryst, and Eli turns toward the door as he wrenches away from Mandi.
She glances at me, a pissed-off expression on her face. “Didn’t you see the hairband on the doorknob, Holland? You could have knocked instead of barging in here.”
I blink, still too stunned to move. “W-what?”
Mandi points at the door, and I peer down at the handle. I see it then—a pink hair band wrapped around the knob.
Eli slowly turns back to Mandi, and he looks furious. “Wait, what? You didwhat?”
“The hairband means she’s not supposed to come in,” Mandi explains. “Though guys probably use a sock, not a hairband, and—”
“I know what the fuck it means, Mandi,” he snaps. Eli stands and runs his hands down over his face before looking at me. “Listen, Holland—”
“The room’s all yours,” I say, cutting him off. I stalk over to my dresser and grab a pair of jeans, socks, and a sweatshirt, then stuff them into my duffel bag along with my Converse.
