Page 53 of Apparently, I’m Torture

Mia rolled her eyes. “The only thing about her that’s changed is her bra size.”

“What makes you think she hasn’t changed?”

Mia scoffed. “Are you kidding? She complained about you to Shawn, and she’s been riding your ass since you got here. Just because she’s lightened up for one bloody hour since you gave her that cake, which was bollocks by the way, doesn’t mean she’s changed. In fact, that tutor she lined up for you? She’s probably thought of a way to hold it over your head later.”

“Mia, you don’t know that.”

“I bloody well do. And it’d do you good to stop being such a blind little pushover when it comes to people like her.”

“Mia.” I was actually offended, which was pretty obvious to my best friend. But instead of apologizing and backtracking with one of her witty quips, Mia only rolled her eyes and stalked away from me, leaving me to stare after her and mumble, “What the hell was that about?”

So, as of Friday afternoon, things were going well. I mean, if I didn’t scratch the surface, I could look at what I was achieving and believe things were as they were supposed to be.

But… “Who am I kidding?” I mumbled around my stale mouthful of pizza. “Stacey and Mia can’t stand each other, Trevor’s still looking for ways to fire me, and I just finger-fucked myself while thinking about Shawn. I’m a train wreck.”

But, then again, when was I not?

Chapter 21

Lilly

Monday Morning

Verra Convention Center

I learned a lot from watching animated movies over the years. I learned that, occasionally, love really could save the day, if you let it. I learned that kingdoms weren’t built by a single person, and never in a single day. And I learned that those who needed the most help were the least likely to ask for it. But there was one lesson I’d never forget.

The cartoon villains of my favorite movies taught me that not everything was always what it seemed, and that no matter how hard we tried to believe otherwise, some people just didn’t have any good in them.

Some people were just plain toxic. Some people pulled others down in the hopes of lifting themselves. And some people were just assholes who refused to own their mistakes.

As I walked into the small staff kitchen inside our center, the raised voices careening down the hallway brought that long-lived lesson to mind.

“Stop being a chucklefuck, and admit you were wrong. Apologize.” Mia’s whispered yell was loud enough for everyone to hear, and it wasn’t long before teachers filtered out of the kitchen.

“You both need to get over it, okay? Just move on. It was five fucking years ago.”

Stacey’s screech was louder than Mia’s whispered yell by a longshot, and Sharon, the baker of the buttercream cupcakes resting on the small table, snuck by me as I crossed the threshold into the kitchen.

I looked at my best friend, who was hulking angrily by the table of sweets. Mia was trying to get Stacey to own up to her mistakes, and it wasn’t going well.

I wanted to cluck my tongue, pull her aside and tell her it’d never work. Even though I tried smoothing things over with red velvet last week, even though I hoped Stacey might’ve changed, deep down I knew she wasn’t built like Mia and I.

She didn’t see mistakes where we did. She didn’t see ruin and heartbreak. She only saw what she wanted to see. It was best for all of us if we tried to forget the past for the two weeks we had left.

Mia huffed. “It might’ve been five years ago, but we’re still dealing with it. Lilly is still dealing with it. How do you not see that?”

Stacey’s eyes widened as they flickered to me, a moment of panic threading through those baby blues before she doubled down, prepared to fight two against one.

“It’s not my fault you two don’t know how to handle your shit. It wasn’t just my mistake, you know.” She pointed at me, her arm swinging like a thin, wooden branch. “It was Lilly’s too. She didn’t have to date Trevor; she could’ve said no.”

“If she didn’t date him, you would’ve had her kicked out of the sorority, you evil bitch.” Mia’s whisper evolved into a yell as she hefted a cupcake and threw it at Stacey.

It happened so quickly.

There was a choked cry, and then Stacey was shoving cupcakes in Mia’s face, and I was yelling, shuffling into the fray, pulling them off each other but getting dragged in somehow, a lot like when they tripped me into the stack of chairs.

“Guys, stop it,” I yelled, but neither of them were listening. Their manicured nails raked against my wrists and hands as they fought to get closer to the other, and I ended up covered in frosting.