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“It really wasn’t that big of a deal,” I lie. It was a huge deal, someone had wanted to hurt me, who, I didn’t know, but I also didn’t want to worry Caroline with that admission either. I hope she doesn’t ask me if I jumped.
I don’t want people thinking I’m suicidal either, though I’m sure if I put my ear close enough to the ground within the gossip circles I’m sure I’ll hear a rumor being spread about me.
She jumped, no one pushed her. She’s crazy.
“Mhm, then why do you look like you’re having the worst week of your life?”
“Well, I just have some personal stuff going on, and you know not to be weird, or anything, but every time I feel like I need a friend or someone to lift me up you appear like a fairy godmother.”
A soft giggle escapes her pink lips. “That’s me, the fairy godmother of friendship.” Soft chatter surrounds us as we nibble on our brownies together. I wash mine down with even more sugary goodness, hoping that the sugar high will give me enough strength to get through the rest of my day. As badly as I don’t want to admit it, the brothers have ruined me.
I’ve grown dependent on them. Where having them around, and following me, annoyed me at first, I kind of grew accustomed to it and now that they aren’t I just feel alone, discarded like trash. I’m sure that’s the point though, to make me feel like shit.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Caroline asks again, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder, concern flickering in her eyes.
I look up from my brownie, “Would it be weird if I said I was in love with three guys?”
Caroline blinks, a neutral look on her heart shaped face, “It’s 2019, who cares if you love three guys? Love is love, right?”
“Right, but…” I swallow my throat suddenly feeling dry. “What if they’re three guys that you shouldn’t want to be with? Like they’re bad for you, but you can’t help yourself?”
“Ooo, kinda like these brownies?” She says, wiggling her eyebrows, and popping another piece of gooey goodness into her mouth.
“Yes, kinda like these brownies.”
“You indulge, I guess. I don’t know, do what you think is right?”
I want to tell her I have no idea what is right or wrong, but I don’t. I won’t bore her with the details of my dramatic weekend. I don’t want to send her running for the hills.
We finish our brownies, sneaking in a little small talk here and there. By the time we’re finished my belly is full, and I’m back to smiling again.
“If you’re still struggling with English, I can help you. We could meet up in the library or something one of these nights. Go over notes?”
“You would do that for me?” I ask, as we walk out of the coffee shop and towards the quad where I will most likely end up seeing at least one of the Bishop Brothers. It’s strange, because now that they’re not following me around like lost puppies I find myself watching for them. I want to see them. Hell, I crave them, my belly tightens, heat blooming deep down inside me when I think of them.
“Of course, you’ve got a lot going on and what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t offer to help you?”
“Honestly, a typical one. In case you haven’t noticed I don’t have many friends here.” I mumble, wrapping my hand around the strap of my backpack. In the back pocket of my jeans my phone starts to vibrate. Laughter meets my ears, but I’m too busy unlocking my phone and looking through it to look up and see what has people laughing.
“Harlow…” I can hear the worry in Caroline’s voice without even looking at her face to confirm it.
My phone continues to vibrate, and vibrate, and vibrate and I’m starting to get flustered with all the incoming text messages. Lifting my head my gaze catches on the east campus building where I notice a banner blowing in the wind. Bright pink lettering painted across the white canvas. What the hell is that?
Harlow Needs More Dick- Send Pics If you’re DTF!
Below is my cell number, which explains all the incoming texts. The letters are so bright you couldn’t miss them if you tried.
Joy. Another stunt from the Bishops. I should’ve known things would go from bad to worse.
“Like, oh my god, its Harlow the whore in the flesh,” a girl sneers from a few feet away. I look up and see it’s one of the groupies from the other night. The one that was crawling all over Oliver, or maybe it was Banks I don’t remember, and I don’t really care. Her name’s Tiffany, that’s all I know.
I tell myself to look away, to push my feelings down, swallow my pride, and turn the other cheek but I can’t help myself. Like bile rising up my throat, the anger, and red-hot rage burns through me, and I find myself crossing the distance that separates us without thought.
