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Everything freezes as the truth of her words comes crashing down around me. The familiarity of those exact words etched into my brain from one of my lowest moments. The fucking voicemails. She listened to them, heard all our pleas, witnessed our pain and still can sit there as if she’s innocent in all this. As if we never meant a goddamn thing to her. But yeah, at least we still have our fucking money.
It’s what paved the way for our revenge as easily as it paved the way for Brielle to try and escape us after all.
We may have taken more of a risk with our late transfer than she did, but none of us had to be concerned about our futures even after making such a rash decision. Most people would have lost everything, would have had to delay a semester or even a year and try to apply when the application process opened back up, but not us.
Zaiden and I walked away from starting spots on OCU’s football team, something that can’t be guaranteed here. No amount of money would have been able to gain us that same privilege here. But wealth isn’t the only tool in our arsenal. We have the skills and the reputations to earn our spots on the team as walk-ons, even if we weren’t recruited. A few donations soothed the ruffled feathers of the coaching staff, but even without them, they would have been thrilled to add us to their lineup.
The rest of the team is a different story, now. We will be replacing those who thought they had a chance at some game time this season. None of them would dare speak a word against us though. No matter how much money their families may have. There is being rich and then there is being a legacy, nothing else comes close.
Though helpful, she knows better than anyone that the money is the least important thing to me. That I would have chosen her over money any day of the week. I would have chosen her over anything. But she’s throwing that in my face now. As if it means nothing to her. I guess she really did forget everything I thought we had. Or maybe I was the only one who thought it was something special.
Some of my satisfaction has dissipated as rejection and hurt wash through me once more. A reminder of the desolation we all felt in the last couple months. I sit more tense in my chair than when I first sat down. It feels like I’m forever thrown between anger and hurt these days. The sadness that radiates from my core, the cavernous hole of hopelessness that threatens to consume me whole when I linger on the memories of Brielle’s laugh, her smile, the ways her eyes once lit up when she met mine. I hate every bit of pain I still feel over the girl that discarded us all so easily.
I watch her out of the corner of my eye as she chews on her bottom lip, tapping her pencil against her notebook even as she stares at the professor almost obsessively. I wonder what’s running through her head. If she’s as confused as I am over how we all ended up here.
She curses under her breath and it almost makes me smile. Almost. It’s just so out of touch with the image she seems set on portraying. Her long hair slicked back into the perfect ponytail that gently sways as she begins to tap her foot in time with her pencil, the tight, long-sleeved shirt that molds perfectly to her chest and waist before being tucked into her light pink, plaid skirt, it all just reminds who she chose to be. Daddy’s perfect little princess, Carson’s polished trophy.
The familiar grumble of her stringing curse words together even more creatively than Z could ever manage just doesn’t fit. If I had any hope left for this girl, I would have taken it as a sign that the girl I fell for was still in there.
Instead she turns towards me and I forget what the meaning of hope ever was. She wounds me deeper with just a look than I ever thought possible.
“I’m sorry,” she sighs. “I shouldn’t have said that.” The words should ease the ache in my chest. Bri could never be mean to us, not really. She always had too kind of a heart. Much too soft of a spot for all of us. Even when she teased and taunted us, she never could resist softening the blow with a kiss to our foreheads or a gentle squeeze of our arms. The familiarity of her apologetic and comforting tone should erase some of the hurt, but the look in her eyes destroys any chance of that happening.
Fear.
It’s painted into every inch of her expression and posture. So much so it’s practically bleeding out of her and infecting me with its presence. A fear so potent, I can feel my own throat tighten and burn as she looks up at me with those big, blue eyes of hers. Scared of how I may react to her words. Scared of me.
There’s none of the affection I had grown to rely on, none of the playfulness our friendship was centered around. Just fear and a strange desperation. Her words playback and it hits me. She is desperate. Desperate to get away from me. From us. From our past. From that night.
I’ll never admit it to the guys, but a part of me still thought that when we showed up here, we would get an explanation. That Brielle couldn’t possibly continue to run after she realized what we gave up to follow her. That she would be reminded that we would give up everything over and over again for her. Always for her.
She doesn’t even realize just how much damage she just did with that single look. She killed the last part of me that held on to her. Held on to the good times between us. Held out for a chance to forgive her. There’s no turning back now.
I turn away from her, refusing to meet her eyes again for the rest of class. Her incessant tapping doesn’t stop once. Her wary glances that she continuously throws at me only adds fuel to the fire burning under my skin.
I know I’ll have no more hesitations or regrets about what we have planned next. If she’s determined to see us as monsters, then I guess we have no choice but to show her our claws. We’ve always given that girl exactly what she wanted, after all.
ChapterFive
Fuck.
Guilt burns up the back of my throat. I haven’t had a moment of peace since my eyes first met Hudson’s, but it only grew worse after I let my scathing reply fly past my lips. The hurt and shock reflected back at me felt like a knife to my gut.
I never wanted to hurt them. Never wanted to lash out at them. But now trapped in this nightmare, it somehow feels like my only way out. I needed him to know I listened to the voicemails, that I heard every word of their heartbreak. Every single one was like a bullet to my already broken soul, but he can't know that. Even if it hurts, they need to know I made my choice knowing they were in pain. I blocked their numbers after hearing them beg. Even if it's a lie, I need Hudson to believe that I heard his tears and felt nothing. All so that they have no more doubts in the choice I made.
Still, I regretted the words the instant they came out. I knew exactly where to hit Hudson to make him shut up. I can’t bear to hear that intoxicating husk that’s always present in his voice, to see that smirk so full of mirth and vengeance directed at me. I thought it would be better to at least get his eyes off of me so I had some semblance of a chance at keeping up the façade that their lives depend on me maintaining.
But the guilt is almost worse than the fear. There was no chance of me making it through the rest of the class without apologizing. I don’t know what I expected to come from it, we still can’t be friends. He still shouldn’t be here. I can’t afford to give him comfort when I know the price he will have to pay for it. That we will all have to pay for it. The cold, hardened look in his eyes as he flat out ignored my apology still caught me off guard.
His presence drowns me, his proximity to me so suffocating that I don’t hear a word the professor says for the entirety of the two hour lecture. I try to ignore him, but can’t keep my eyes from drifting his way every few minutes. It’s as if my entire body is aware of his presence just two feet away from me. Hudson is really here, looking every bit as perfect as I remember him. His white football shirt looks bright in comparison to his soft brown skin, fitting tighter than what I remember. Seeing him, noticing the differences from just a few months apart, cuts me like a knife.
I hardly recognize the man at my side. No matter how many times I fail to keep my eyes straight ahead and sneak glances at him, he never turns my way. Doesn’t look at me again. I try to lie to myself and think maybe I just never caught him looking, but I know better than that. I could always feel their eyes on me as if they were a touch. He’s so angry. My sweet and playful Hudson, clearly anything but now. What the hell is he doing here? Are the others here too? I internally scoff at my own question, of course they are. He never would have turned up here alone. The four of them would never allow just one of them to leave the others behind.
The four of them? It once was the five of us. Is that what this is all about? Are they really here now because they couldn't allow me to just walk away and break ties? I did my best to make them want to forget me. Hit every button that I could think of while maintaining my distance. I overshared on social media, was frequently overly affectionate to Carson in public. I even wore my hair and did my makeup in ways that they had all shown their distaste for in the past. And not once, did I ever allow them to get in contact with me, no matter how hard they tried.
When they stopped trying, I assumed they had given up. Moved on and forgot about me like I needed them to. Like they should have. I should have known they were too stubborn for that to be true. I should have been prepared for them to not make this easy. A clean break? I must have been crazy to think that would work. Crazy or maybe just desperate. In what lifetime would something like what we had be able to break so thoroughly without even a fight?
Of course they wouldn’t let me go without a fight. A small spark of hope lights in my chest. Despite my desire to smother it, I can’t seem to make myself. My guys are here. They couldn’t forget me. They couldn’t just let me go.
