Page 37 of Vexatious Queen

Ivy nodded, and Chantry joined our hug.

“What would I do without you two?” She mumbled.

“What happened,” Chantry asked.

Ivy made a frustrated noise that I understood all too well. She pulled away and dabbed at the fresh mascara lines.

“I never should’ve told Sabastian the truth, at least not here. But he knew something was off all week and kept asking me what was wrong. Then, Zigzag showed up. He was openly flirting and saying shit to poke at Sabastian. Then he mentioned his favorite coffee shop. Zigzag was basically dangling what happened between us over my head. He didn’t come right out and say it, but I could tell he was just waiting to make a scene. Maybe he was goading me into telling the truth, I really don’t know. Either way, I decided to come clean. God I’m so stupid.”

She covered her face and screamed.

“So, so stupid,” she said, the words muffled. “None of this would’ve happened if I’d just stayed away that day, or pushed Zigzag when he tried to kiss me, or hell, told Sabastian about it right away.”

Placing her hands on the sink, she shook her head.

“You don’t owe them an explanation, and from what you told me, this is on Zigzag. He lured you out, took advantage of the situation and you, and is now exploiting it for his own gain,” Chantry said.

“I did kiss him back. He wasn’t wrong about that, and it did rekindle the feelings I’d been suppressing,” Ivy admitted. “But it doesn’t diminish what I feel for Sabastian. I don’t know what to do. I certainly didn’t set out to hurt anyone.”

“Did you mean to break up with Sabastian?”

“No,” she groaned.

“Then why did you tell him you two were done for now,” I asked.

Ivy sighed. “He was so angry about the kiss and said some really rude things before he started threatening Zigzag. Then he yelled he was going to kill Zigzag and punched him. I know he was hurt, but he just kind of lost it, and honestly what he said really hurt me.” She rubbed her forehead.

It was quiet again for a few breaths—just the muffled echo of music and laughter from the club. I should’ve been used to chaos by now. Between death threats, family feuds, and watching people I loved almost die, you’d think a bar fight over a girl wouldn’t faze me.

But it was never about the fight. It was the fallout—the whispers, the gossip, the next viral clip that waited to shred someone’s life, that made a horrible situation a million times worse.

My reflection in the mirror didn’t look much better than Ivy’s. My hair was a bit wild and out of place, my lip gloss had faded, but my eyes were steady. What I needed was a week of sleep in a remote, quiet place, where I could read, sip coffee, and recharge.

“Is it stupid to think that I wanted what you have,” Ivy asked, and I cocked my brow at her. “I’m not jealous…okay, that’s a lie. I am jealous, but not because of who you’re with, just that you found a way to make it all work. Five guys put aside any differences to be with you. That’s like every girl’s dream.”

“Not mine, one is more than complicated, let alone multiple,” Chantry said, making the three of us laugh.

“Okay, not everyone, but you know what I mean. I love them both. I can’t choose between them, so instead I go crazy and tossed them both aside. How did you do it? What was the magical conversation, or touch, or potion you used? And can I have some of it?”

Ivy sighed and rubbed at the streaks on her face.

“Here,” Chantry said, opening her purse and pulling out a package of makeup wipes.

“Thanks.”

“I don’t really know how it happened. But I think it helps that they are so close. The five of them were already ride-or-die best friends. Zigzag and Sabastian aren’t even cordial, let alone friends. And now, they’re rivals because they both love you. I’m not sure what to say other than try talking to them separately.”

“I—”

The door suddenly burst open, and laughter led the way for the high-pitched, glitter-laced, and unmistakable sound of trouble. Vicky.

She stumbled inside like she was drunk, but if she was, then she had arrived that way because no one at Volatile would serve her tonight.

Vicky was trailed by her standard trio of girls—Jennifer, Raquel, and one of the other cheerleaders whose name I hadn’t bothered to learn. They were the epitome of a perfume cloud of expensive rebellion, with phone cameras already up and rolling.

I stepped in front of Ivy so she could clean her face without the mean girls of the school filming her.

“Well, well,” Vicky crooned, voice slurred. “Look at this pathetic pity party in the bathroom.”