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"Sure you did, Briar. It's okay. I get it. Life moves on. It has for me too. Don't stress."
"What are you doing here?" I ask her, and she barks out a laugh.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" she asks, her hand waving down her body. "I’m working."
My eyebrows rise in question and she laughs again. "Just because you got out of the gutter doesn't mean that we all did. We all need to make ends meet. My body is all I've got, so I'm here and I'm working. Don't get in my way." She turns on her heel and walks in the opposite direction, and I can't help but frown at her back as she walks away from me.
I glance back over at the guys and find Travis frowning, glaring at me from where he's standing, so I shake off the interaction with my old friend and smile at him, not wanting him to worry. Because I can already see the uptight version of him starting to crawl back into his demeanor.
I give him a thumbs up and a cheesy smile, and he quirks his brow at me before Sawyer distracts him with the strum of a guitar. I hadn’t even noticed they’d stopped playing.
"Let's do this," I hear Sawyer's voice coming through the microphone in Travis’s place.
They start playing again, and I'm lost in a world filled with nothing but the sounds that they play for me. It's like there's nobody else in the room and the music is just for me, speaking directly to my soul once again.
When Travis opens his mouth and starts to sing again, I'm transported once more back to the first night I met them, and all the reasons why I was so willing to let go of all of my inhibitions to be around them come flooding back.
His voice is like a balm to every wound on my soul. I lose myself in the emotions that they elicit from me as time flies by. It's not until someone spills their drink over me from the side of the couch that reality comes crashing back, and I find a very drunk Emerson laughing as her now-empty cup is upturned in her hand.
My jeans are soaked through with whatever it was in her cup. I'm just glad that my t-shirt is black, so whatever it is isn't going to stain.
"Was that really necessary?" I ask through clenched teeth as I stand.
She just continues to cackle. "Even rich girls need to get wet sometimes, you know."
I roll my eyes at her, remembering why we were never truly friends. Her petty streak was always running rampant and being around her for too long was exhausting.
I don't have time for that in my life right now. Not with everything else I've got going on. So rather than fighting back, I make my way toward the guys where they're already putting down their instruments.
"Who's that?" Travis asks as I reach him, and I explain to them who Emerson is and how she brought me here on that first night. He touches my hips then pulls back. "You’re soaking wet."
"I know," I tell him with a frown. "Emerson spilled her drink. Can we go? I'm really sorry."
He glares over my shoulder at my old friend. "Sure. We only came here to play and we've done that now. Let's head out." He puts an arm around my shoulders and starts maneuvering us across the room, the others following behind, when I hear my name shouted across the space.
"You're just a filthy whore like the rest of us. You might be able to play pretend in your rich little castle, but I know who you really are and I know the things you've done. You can't run away from the past, Briar. It always catches you in the end."
* * *
After the failure of a night at the party, I crawled into bed alone, guilt at ruining their night trying to drown me from the inside out.
I lie in bed staring at the ceiling, knowing that, while they won't hold it against me, I'm going to carry the guilt for letting Emerson ruin our night with me for at least a couple of days.
Because it means thatIruined our night.
I might not be able to control her, but she was only a bitch because of me.
My mind hasn’t stopped whirring about what she meant bythe past will always catch you in the endsince I crawled into bed last night.
Letting out a deep sigh, I grab my laptop to start working on the paper that I need to write for Contemporary World Literature before my class on Wednesday afternoon. I know I've got another three days off of school to get it done, but I might as well get started now because I have other work to be focusing on too.
I go through the reading that the professor laid out and review my dictation from the class before I start typing out my essay. Time whizzes past in the blink of an eye.
Before I know it, my paper is done and several hours have passed. My stomach rumbles, bringing me back to reality.
I move to close my laptop when a ping announces a new email in my inbox. I click on the alert that pops up on the screen to open the message, and my stomach twists when I see that it's another email from an unknown sender.
My appetite disappears in an instant as I look at the words on the screen, wondering who the hell this could possibly be.
