Page 9

A bet.

Everything. Every coffee date, every late-night phone call, every time he'd held my hand in public—all lies.

My eyes burned red. I heard myself make a broken, barely controlled gasp.

"You're a fucking bastard."

The words were pathetically inadequate for the betrayal burning inside me. I'd never experienced anything like this. My brain went blank. What was I supposed to do with someone I'd loved who'd destroyed me so completely? I had no idea.

"And if you thought this thing between us would lead anywhere real, you're delusional." Chad's eyes now held undisguised disgust as he looked me up and down. "You really thought I'd introduce you to my parents? Bring you to meet my future business partners? Please. Look at all that fat on you, then look at Barbara. If you were me, who would you pick?"

In that moment, I wanted to scream. I wanted to charge at him and slap his lying face until my hand broke. Tears threatened to spill. I wanted to yell something to prove every single thought he had about me was dead wrong.

Instead, I straightened my spine and met his eyes.

"You're right, Chad." I stared at him, voice shaking but every word clear. "I was delusional. I thought you were one of the few decent people in this materialistic, shallow school. Turns out I was completely wrong. You're just a piece of shit."

I spun around and walked out in my heels. Even with tears brimming in my eyes, I kept my head high. At least the hallway was empty—the only mercy God had shown me all night.

My phone buzzed in my bag again. Had to be Isabella. God, I should've gone to her party. I should've listened to that little voice that kept warning me Chad was "too good to be true."

I made it to the front porch before the first sob broke free. No. I wouldn't cry here. Wouldn't give Chad and his friends the satisfaction of seeing me break down.

A drinks table by the door caught my eye—on top sat a bottle of probably top-shelf whiskey some rich kid had stashed. I grabbed it without thinking. If I was going to survive the worst night of my life, I needed this.

Chad wouldn't mind. It was the least he fucking owed me.

When I burst out of that house, the cold early spring night air hit my face like a slap. I clutched the photo album in one hand, the stolen whiskey bottle in the other. My heels kept catching in the uneven sidewalk cracks, but I didn't dare stop.

I had to get away. As for where?

Fuck it, I had no destination.

Where could I go? In this world, only Mom and Isabella would take me in unconditionally. But that's exactly why I couldn't let them see me like this. Couldn't make them worry. Couldn't ruin Isabella's celebration night.

I didn't know how long I walked before I stumbled into a dark garden—probably some remote corner of campus I'd never noticed before. Tall hedges formed neat walls around a small courtyard. The party noise behind me finally faded to a dull roar.

Perfect. I could finally fall apart completely.

I collapsed onto a stone bench, not caring that the early spring cold seeped through my thin sequined dress into my bones.

I twisted off the cap and tilted my head back, taking a huge gulp. The whiskey burned like molten lava down my throat, but I welcomed it greedily because it finally distracted me, even slightly, from the tearing pain in my chest.

One gulp became two, then three.

The album I'd tossed at my feet fell open. Photos spilled out. Even in the dim, broken garden light, I could clearly see the girl in red lace trying to look sexy—mocking my stupidity.

"Fucking perfect."

The man's low, raspy words suddenly echoed in my head, mixing with Chad's cruel comment: "Look at all that fat on you."

Wow. Bad news—I got one lie today. But good news—I'm lucky enough to learn one truth! How uplifting!

I raised the bottle and took another huge swig.

"You should drink more water and less of that."

A magnetic voice came from behind me without warning.