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“Don’t speak to me at all,” I growled. “It’s not like you’ve made an effort all these years.”
“That’s not true,” she said, rushing up the stairs after me.
I turned on my heel and walked down the hallway toward my bedroom, where I wanted to barricade myself in for some peace and quiet so I could deal with all this shit running through my head.
“I’ve tried.”
“When it was convenient for you!” I said, anger rushing through me, making my chest tight and my eyes hot. “The only time you care about me—the only timeanyonecares about me—is when it’s convenient for you.”
Everything inside me hurt so fucking badly. Nobody gave a shit. Ever.
“Blaise Harleen.”
When I reached my door, I spun around to face her again. “What’s convenient for you this time, Mom? Hmm? You want me to attend another fancy dinner with you to impress your colleagues? Flirt with some girl, so you can secure a deal with her father?”
Mom straightened herself out and pursed her lips again. Her face had been injected with shit so many times that she didn’t even look the same as when she’d fired Vera’s mother, when my whole world turned upside down. I could barely even recognize her anymore.
“I’ve heard a rumor,” she said softly. “About you hanging out in the slums.”
Before she could say another word, I slammed the door in her face and locked it. The only person she fucking cared about was her reputation and herself. Me hanging around Vera made Mom look bad. And me hanging around Vera made Vera look bad.
I couldn’t fucking win.
Nobody cared about me.
After pulling on my headphones, I blasted pop punk music into my ears and sat down on my bed with my laptop. I downloaded all the skateboarding videos I had taken since last time and pulled up my video editing software. I was supposed to have a video out tonight for my YouTube channel.
But while I wanted to edit more content for my social media, I found myself watching the video I had taken of Vera learning to skateboard at the park tonight. We were standing close, my hands on her hips.
I cursed under my breath and balled my hand into a fist. In the video, she looked up at me like nobody had fucking looked at me before. I’d thought she—my throat tightened—felt the same way as me. I was wrong.
Vera fell over so many times but continued to stand up, adjusting her kneepads and helmet every time. Still, I couldn’t believe that she’d actually tried. Nobody tried shit like this with me. All the girls who I’dthoughtwere interested in me just wanted to come over to fuck.
Not Vera.
But then again, Vera didn’t like me.
As I replayed the video of Vera on my computer, my phone buzzed. I paused the video and turned toward my phone, deep down hoping that Vera was on the other end, asking me to come over so we could talk.
Skylar: I’m sorry.
Skylar: I shouldn’t have gotten in the middle of you and Vera.
I growled. I shouldn’t have even looked.
This bitch wasn’t sorry. She probably needed something.
Skylar: I want to talk.
Skylar: Please, Blaise. It’s important.
I ran my hand through my hair, then gripped it, tugging on the ends because I didn’t know what to do. I fucking hated Skylar with all my heart, especially after what had happened in the janitor’s closet. But I wasn’t sure if Vera would ever come around.
She hadn’t even told me about who João was to her until I asked her about itagain. It was clear that she didn’t trust me, that she wanted to get me jealous as fuck, that she didn’t want to date me like that. Fucking mixed signals.
Skylar: Can you come pick me up? Something has happened.
Skylar: Please. I can’t talk about it over the phone.
