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ISABELLA
One of themost essential parts of social media marketing, or any marketing for that matter, is knowing your audience. If you’re selling auto insurance, then that requires developing a strategy that narrows those people into one demographic. It’d only be wasting time by trying to sell it to those who don’t even drive.
At least, that’s what the words on the page had been telling me for the past hour.
Ever since the brunch incident from the previous week, I hadn’t been myself. Instead of scheduling my days in advance, I merely rolled out of bed and shuffled from class to class, occasionally smiling at people along the way. My professors might as well have been speaking gibberish because nothing they said got through to me. And instead of exercising and hitting the books, my free time was spent in bed staring up at the ceiling.
The only person who understood me was Emily.
Trying to explain my problems to Jason was a fucking joke.
Even though it was practically written in stone that we’d end up together, he didn’t give a shit about my mental health. All Jason cared about was money, his precious reputation, and following in his father’s footsteps at Frost Technology. I was nothing more than arm candy, a well-bred woman who’d be the mother of his children and a Stepford wife.
Deciding that studying was a lost cause for the evening, I slammed my textbook shut and gazed out the window. Several of my sorority sisters were chatting on an outside bench, dressed up for the party we were throwing later that night.
I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and plopped into bed, sighing as my head hit the pillow. “Fucking parties,” I mumbled to myself.
I wondered what Jason was doing at that exact moment. As the treasurer of a fraternity that did nothing but party, I certainly knew what to expect come the morning. A lengthy, drunk voicemail chastising me for not picking up and demanding that I call him back. Which I always did since unreturned messages resulted in phone calls from my parents.
If they only knew the other side of him.
I scrolled through the information for traveling overseas the following summer. Nighttime walks through Paris, sunbathing in Greece, and enjoying real, authentic Italian cuisine would be the perfect way to celebrate my college graduation.
It’d also be my one last shot at freedom before married life with Jason.
The smell of French fries wafted into the room as Emily opened our bedroom door.
“Please tell me you signed up for that trip, Isabella.”
I propped myself up on the bed and watched as she traded her waitressing uniform for jeans and a t-shirt. “I can’t do that until my parents approve, and that’s never going to happen.”
“Lenny’s is always looking for servers. Why don’t you apply and save up for it yourself? That way, your parents can’t complain.”
Emily often came home with wads of cash from waitressing, but I barely had time to study, let alone work. That’s to say nothing of not having the motivation.
“I don’t understand how you find the time to work and go to school. My brain is tapped out before I even start my homework most nights.”
“Not all of us have rich parents, Isabella,” she scowled, but immediately straightened herself out, clearing her throat. She plopped down onto the bed next to me with a smile and started rubbing my feet. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. You go through a lot with your parents.”
“No, you’re right, and I’m the one who should apologize. My parents might treat me like shit, but at least I don’t have to worry about money.”
“Anyway, at least you’ll have fun at the party tonight. Be sure to have a few drinks for me, too.”
“Wait, you won’t be there?” I shot up in bed. “Why not?”
Emily shook her head as she stood up and began packing a bag, tossing crumpled clothing into them without hesitation. “Nope. My grandmother was admitted into hospice earlier today, so I’ll be spending at least a week back home.”
Emily had been my rock from day one, the only constant in my life that I could count on.
“I’m sorry about your grandmother.”
“That’s alright. Actually, my grandmother’s always been a lot like your mother, so don’t feel too sorry for me.”
I rolled back over in bed and stared at the wall, deciding that’s where I’d stay put until the morning.
She dropped the bag onto the chair beside the window and narrowed her gaze on me. “Shouldn’t you be helping the sisters get ready for the party, Ms. Vice President?”
“Nope. I’m not moving,” I groaned. “Besides, we throw too many damn parties.”
