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Cammy snapped, “Fine. Yes. Last year, Jace said he was making arrangements for you. I don’t know what he was talking about or what those arrangements were, but those were his words. It’s your turn. You and Jace. What’s the truth?”
I lied, “We were telling the truth the whole time, Cammy. We never were together.”
“But Brian—”
“I lied. Brian needed something to keep him away, but it was never true.”
She sighed, a long sigh of relief.
“Thanks, Taryn,” she murmured before hanging up.
I sat down, mentally and physically exhausted, and downed the rest of my beer. I could hear laughter from inside, but I wasn’t in the mood to be around anyone. Especially those people.
Then again, who am I to judge? All my friends turned out to be liars and back-stabbers.
I heard Mandy laugh. I hadn’t heard her laugh in a long time.
So I stood and went inside, pausing in the doorway, seeing Mandy glowing, wrapped in Devon’s arms. Again.
They were all standing around eating pizza. Sasha was off to the side, standing by Amber and Jasmine.
“Taryn, want some pizza?” Carter asked, holding up a slice.
Sasha’s eyes darkened in irritation.
I’d been accepted, but she hadn’t
“Sure.” I grinned back, moving to grab a piece, squeezing in beside Tray. I was surprised when he gave way and instead pulled me against his chest, with me standing right in front of him. He leaned back against the counter, with one hand on his pizza, and the other splayed on my stomach, anchoring me against him.
I was more shocked to see Jasmine give me a small smile before she turned towards Bryce, eating her tiny piece of pizza.
Mandy was laughing again, her arms wrapped around Devon’s neck. He was trying to eat, but she wouldn’t let him. Both were smiling at the stupid game.
“I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m thinking I might skip tomorrow,” Grant announced, hoisting himself up on a counter.
“I’m right there wi
th you, buddy,” Bryce mumbled, raising an icepack to his bruised face.
“Taryn,” Jasmine spoke up, a slight tremble in her voice, like she was scared to talk to me, “is it true that you might talk to Coach Greenly?”
“Who’s Coach Greenly?”
“The swim coach,” she shrugged self-consciously, “at least that’s what Mandy said.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You swim?” Grant asked curiously.
“Yeah.”
“She made junior varsity at Earlington when she was in the seventh grade,” Mandy proclaimed proudly, with a smile.
“They trounce us every year,” Bryce mumbled around his swollen cheeks. “They’re state champs—I have to hear about it every holiday. My cousin goes there, she swims too.”
“Mom says that Taryn’s good enough. She could maybe even get a scholarship somewhere,” Mandy gushed, while I wanted to kill her.
I finished my pizza and leaned fully back, feeling Tray’s arm tighten around me, resting on my thigh.
