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“Miss Watson,” the lecturer snaps. “The class isn’t over. Where are you going? I’ll mark an absence if you leave now.”
“Something came up,” I mutter, and make my escape. I hurry down the hallways of the college, squeezing between groups of students talking. I need fresh air.
What’s this feeling, this indecision, this inability to get him out of my mind? After the way he behaved, after the way I behaved… any sane person would have just walked away.
But I can’t.
He’s a bad boy, and bad boys don’t turn good through the power of love. I’m not so stupid as to believe in such fairytales.
Any fairytales.
I’ve seen what bad boys do, back in Destiny. Bullies. Arrogant dicks. Violent drunkards. Selfish boys who enjoy causing pain.
No way am I doing this. I know better. I’ve learned things.
And yet I feel so lost. I need to talk to someone, but my go-to confidante is Sydney, and she’s the last person I want to see right now. I mean, I called and texted a thousand times since last week, asking if she’s okay, and she only replied with the shortest of texts to say she’s fine.
Well, screw her.
I stand, indecisive, in the hallway, streams of students flowing around me. Who can I talk to? Not my mom. Or Merc.
God, no.
I need to talk to my sister.
“Sure, you can come over,” Octavia says on the phone. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh yeah. Absolutely. Fantastic.” I cross the street quickly, heading to the bus stop.
“Gigi. You’re not very convincing, you know. You’re worrying me.”
“No. God, no. I’m fine.” Shit. I managed to scare my very pregnant sister. Way to go. “Everything’s just fine, I promise. I only want to see you and ask you about something.”
“You pinky-swear you’re okay?”
“Yes, yes. Please, Tati, don’t worry, okay? I’ll catch the bus and be there soon.” I fish in my purse for my bus card. “See you in a bit.”
If she goes into early labor because I stressed her out, I’ll never be able to live with myself. Maybe going to Octavia for help was a stupid idea.
But who else could I talk to?
I chew on this as the bus arrives, and I climb inside, shivering in my thin red jacket. Finding a seat at the back, I unwind my earbuds from around my phone and plug my ears, shutting out the buzz of the other commuters.
I hit play and lean back as the first notes of “You Don’t Own Me,” the remake by Grace with G-Eazy, rock me. Humming, I press my forehead against the cold glass of the window, staring out at the streets and houses and people rolling by.
/> Octavia understands me. She didn’t fall in love with a bad boy but with an honest-to-god wild man. Instead of listening to all of us and ditching him when he behaved badly, when he was confusing her with mixed signals, she held on to him, and married him a year later. Now she’s about to have his baby.
She’s on to something. She knows how to judge human character. If nothing else, at least she knows how to tame wild men, and may have some advice for me.
Hey, I’m desperate.
Rummaging in my purse, I find my lipstick and slather my lips in red as we roll through the suburbs. I check my phone, scroll through my contacts just to see Jarett’s name among them.
Pathetic, Gigi. Totally pathetic.
Sighing, I gather my purse and backpack, and get off at my stop, then trudge down the street to Octavia and Matt’s house. From afar I see the front porch and the oak tree in the garden, and smile.
We may live in the same city, but I often find myself missing Octavia. We’re a very closely-knit little family. For as long as I can remember, it was only Mom, Octavia, Merc and me versus the world, and that was just fine by me. I didn’t need anyone else. These were the people I trusted, and nobody else.
