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"Are you fucking kidding me?"
The furious screech yanks my head out of the clouds, and the first thing I see is Tara Glenndale freaking out over the iced coffee she's spilled on her dress.
Crap.
"I'm so, so sorry—-"
"Do you know how much this costs?Do you?"
"I'm really sorry again." Tara may be one of the prettiest faces on campus, but everyone also knows she has the tendency to go off the rails over the slightest provocation. "If you could tell me how much—-"
"Do you really think I'd wear the kind of dress someone like you can afford—-" Tara suddenly breaks off as her gaze narrows at me. "I can't fucking believe it. How do you have that?"
"Have what?" I genuinely have no idea what she's talking about, and I'm only more confused when Tara visibly seethes at my words.
"Are you trying to make fun of me, you bitch?"
I don't have a chance to answer, with the other girl already throwing the rest of her iced coffee on my face, and her friends laugh as Tara pats my cheek like Iamher bitch.
"Now, we're even."
She shoulders past me as she walks away, but one of her friends stays behind to show me the photo on her phone. "Since you're such an attention hogger," she says sweetly, "I thought you'd appreciate this..."
The photo she's uploaded to her Instagram account is my hair and face dripping of iced coffee.
"Don't forget to like and follow, bitch."
#08
What seemed like animpossibly long day has finally come to an end, and it takes only mere moments before I'm naked and neck-deep under the hot bubbling waters of the Jacuzzi.
Bliiiiiiiiiiiss.
I remember the Devil telling me how he wants every square foot of my refurbished room to remind me of him, and it does. But what I'm too tired to figure out is why thoughts of him at this moment feel more comforting than threatening.
This could be Stockholm Syndrome at work again, or maybe it's because the Devil's been effectively grooming me since Day One, but...why does Tara feel moreunreasonablyevil than the Devil himself?
