Page 5 of Ruthless Edge

I make it two blocks before I have to stop. Not because of the cold, the March air is actually the one useful thing about today, but because the image keeps reassembling itself behind my eyes every time I blink, and I need it to stop before I reach the restaurant and my friends. But I can’t help but picture Knox in the committee room leaning back in that chair. That easy grin. Laura's hand on his shoulder, her whole body angled toward him like he's the only thing in the room worth looking at.

And then Knox seeing me.

That's the part I can't get rid of. The way his eyes found me the second I walked in, and the smile he gave me, like he was actually glad I was there. I spent almost three years learning not to believe that smile and I still felt it somewhere in my chest before I could stop it, which is embarrassing, which is exactly the kind of thing I can't afford.

I start walking again.

Laura had looked perfect. She always looks perfect at every SAB meeting. On the committee for reasons I can only assume have to do with needing even more attention than she’s already getting. She’s five-foot-ten, golden hair, the kind of face that photographs beautifully from every angle, and she knows exactly how to position herself in a room so that everyone who matters can see her. Today she was in her cheerleading jacket, which should not look as good as it did, her makeup was flawless, and she was laughing at whatever Knox had said right before I came through the door.

And me. I was ten minutes late. Hair falling out of whatever I'd done with it this morning. A coffee stain spread across the front of a blouse I'm definitely washing tonight. Still bigger than Laura, even after everything, even after three years of working at it, still not the kind of woman who walks into a room and makes people look.

I know I'm not supposed to think like this. I've read enough psychology books to know that the comparison is a trap, that my worth isn't a function of how I stack up against Laura Prescott, that the girl I was freshman year is not the girl I am now. I know all of that.

Knowing it and feeling it are two completely different things, and right now I am standing on the corner of Maple and Fourth in a new blouse, but feeling just as low, so…

I get moving.

The restaurant Rory picked is three blocks north of campus, a brunch place with a patio that catches the March sun in a way that makes it almost warm enough to sit outside if you keep your coat on. I can see the yellow umbrella tables from the end of the street. I can also see Rory's dark hair, and Sienna's blonde and Paige’s curly red hair that I could identify from twenty feet away, even before Paige turns and waves at me from her seat with both hands like she's flagging down an airplane.

That's Paige. That's just who she is.

As I get closer, Paige starts talking. "Emma! Over here! We already ordered coffee for you!" She's beaming. She has the kind of face that defaults to delighted, with bright green eyes, auburn hair, and an energy that makes the air around her feel lighter. She's been my friend since the beginning of sophomore year and in that time I've never once seen her in a bad mood that lasted longer than ten minutes. It's honestly a little bit impressive. Okay, maybe majorly impressive. "We got the table with the heater, come sit, I want to hear everything about the meeting!"

I manage a smile that I hope looks like a real smile, and drop into the empty chair between her and Sienna.

Sienna looks at me once, quietly, like she already knows every single detail of what happened. She doesn't say anything yet. She just passes me the coffee that's been waiting at my spot.

Rory, across the table, cuts straight to it. "What happened?"

"Good morning to you too," I say.

"You've been crying."

"I haven't been crying."

"Your eyes are red."

"It's the wind."

"Emma."

"Rory." I pick up the coffee and wrap both hands around it. "Can I at least order food first?"

Rory sits back, which is as close as she gets to giving someone space. The server comes by and I order eggs and toast and another coffee before she's even finished writing it down, and when she walks away I take a long sip of the one already in front of me and look out at the street and feel all three of them waiting, even though I’m not eager to relive my humiliation.

The fragile, careful hold I've had on myself since I left the sidewalk outside Wilson Hall lasts just a few seconds.

"I'm co-chairing the Bachelor Auction," I say.

Paige clasps her hands together. "Oh, that's amazing, you're going to be so good at⁠—"

"With Knox Carter."

Silence.

Paige's hands unclasp.

Sienna sets her mug down.