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“Probably not, but you’re not helping the matter when you chase her into dark rooms at parties and fill her head with shit,” she says, looking over at me.
“You saw that?”
“Yeah, thankfully I’m the only one that did.”
“It’s like I lose my mind when I’m anywhere near her,” I say, rubbing my hand on my face.
“You’ve got to stay away, then,” she says, looking at me with sad eyes.
“I don’t want to,” I admit.
“I know, but it’s not fair to keep playing these games.”
I don’t respond, because I know she’s right.
“If there’s even a part of you that thinks you two can end up together, then don’t stop fighting. But if you have any reservations, then leave her be. Let her find happiness somewhere else. She deserves that.”
“You act like I don’t know that she deserves the fucking world,” I say.
She puts her hand on my shoulder, before turning away and walking back inside.
Once again, an interaction with Marley has got me fucked up in the head.
ChapterFourteen
MARLEY
What the fuck was that? I don’t know what to feel right now, because my head feels like it’s a pile of mush. When I’m around Clark, it’s almost as if I can’t think straight.
I’m standing in the bathroom, hands gripping the sides of the sink, staring into the mirror. Who am I right now? I’m not this girl. At least, I didn’t use to be. I have a boyfriend that really cares about me. Why would I do something like this, and just throw it all away for something meaningless?
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay.
I just don’t know how to quit him. I crave him, he’s like an addiction, only he’s the one addiction I can’t shake. It feels like an obsession, but I don’t think that’s what it is. I think it might be love, which is worse.
There’s a knock on the door, and I try to pull myself together.
“One minute,” I call out, and my voice wavers.
“Marley, it’s me.”
I take a deep sigh of relief when I hear Delaney’s voice. Reaching over, I flip the lock and she slips inside, locking the door again behind her.
“Oh, Mar,” she says, looking at me sympathetically, before wrapping her arms around me.
My walls crumble and the dam breaks, and before I know it, I’m sobbing into her chest.
“It’s going to be okay, Mar,” she whispers, running her fingers through my hair.
“It doesn’t feel like it,” I cry.
“Everything always gets worse before it gets better,” she says, holding me tighter.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I tell her, tears streaming down my face.
“What do you mean?” she asks, pulling back, trying to look me in the eyes.
I avert my gaze, embarrassed for her to see me this way. Sure, we’ve been friends for years, but sometimes it feels superficial. I’m not used to opening up like this with anyone.
