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ItrytoignoreCammie, barging past her and walking away, but she follows me, her hands fisted at her side.
“I fucking knew it!” she calls from behind me. “You actually like this guy! Have you seen the car he drives? He’s a part-time gardener, for fuck’s sake, and he could probably get fired for what you two are doi—”
Stopping in my tracks, I whip around to face her. “Are youthreateningme?”
Her dark eyes widen to an almost comical size. She’d look stupid if she wasn’t so hot. “Of course not, Rose! I’m your friend. I’d never betray you, but—”
“If you were my friend, you wouldn’t be fucking stalking me!” I exclaim, my voice high and suffocated by anger.
I turn around and set off again, but this time Cammie stops me, grabbing my arm. “I was only following you because I was curious—and just because I’m your friend doesn’t mean I’m going to let you fuck your own life up.”
“How am I fucking my own life up?”
Cammie rolls her eyes and throws her arms up in frustration. “Your whole plan thing—Rose, it won’t work if you’re actually in love with this guy!”
“I never said I was in love with him!” Even as I speak them, the words taste like lies in my mouth. “You’re jumping to conclusions! Just because all your relationships are fucked-up doesn’t mean—”
“So you admit this is a relationship?” she says, almost shouting in her triumph.
“Lower your fucking voice!” I hiss, pulling her closer. “Obviouslyit’s a relationship—it has tolooklike one, remember? Doesn’t mean it’s real.”
“Doesheknow that?”
She seems incapable of saying his name—and maybe she’s forgotten it—but I can’t say it either. Saying his name would make it all feel too real—saying his name would hurt too much.
“Of course he doesn’t know that. Don’t be fucking stupid!”
“This whole thing,” Cammie gestures with her hands, “is fucked-up. You’re spending all this time with this guy because you like him, and it’s pretty clear he likes you too, and now you’re telling me you’re going to just dump him when your dad gives you your money back?”
“It’smyfucking life!” I cry out, my voice thick with contained sobs. “I don’t have to explain myself to you!”
“Can’t you see I’m trying to protect you?” Cammie says. “You’re going to ruin everything just for some trashy townie who thinks with his dick and doesn’t have a single thing to off—”
I slap her so hard my palm stings. There’s a moment of silence, the icy wind shuffling the leaves of the trees surrounding us like the shocked murmur of a watching crowd. For a second, we stare at each other, both dismayed. Cammie’s face goes red straight away. She cups her cheek and shakes her head.
“You think you’re so much better than everybody else,” she says, her voice trembling. “But you’re just some spoilt, vapid daddy’s girl.”
I squeeze my hand into a fist to stop the tingling in my palm. My voice is shaking too when I reply. “At least I’m not a hypocritical, judgemental asshole.”
“Guess what, Rose?” Cammie sneers. “Fucking someone justbecausethey’re poor is just as bad asnotfucking someone because they’re poor. You’re just as judgemental as I am—you’ve just fetishized your prejudices.”
And with that, she turns around and walks away.
I let her. For a long time, I just stand on the path, the trees crowding around me, hiding me in their shadows. At first, Cammie’s words barely register. I stand like a mannequin, expressionless and emotionless. Nothing feels real. Everything feels cold.
But as soon as I get back into my bedroom, I burst into tears. I throw myself on my bed, burying my face in my pillows, and sob so hard my entire body convulses. My pillows stifle my pathetic wails, and my chest hurts with the sobs wracking it.
I don’t cry because I’ve fought with Cammie, or because we’ve fallen out and might never be friends again. I don’t even cry because of her insults, or because she stalked me and betrayed my trust.
I cry because, no matter how ugly what Cammie said was, she still did what I couldn’t.
She spoke the truth.
Thefollowingday,mydad sends a taxi to pick me up from Spearcrest and bring me to the hotel where we’re both going to be staying. He’s out for meetings, but his girlfriend, Luana, meets me in the hotel lobby, and we have brunch together.
Everybody’s always expected me to hate Luana. She’s tall, Brazilian, ridiculously beautiful, and she’s only six years older than me. And I do hate that my father is dating her—but only because I genuinely believe Luana could do so much better than him.
Her smile is blinding when she sees me, and we hug like best friends, my arms wrapped around her waist, hers around my neck. She always smells—as always—divinely delicious. We finally pull apart and she bends to kiss my cheeks, her hair soft as Angora silk when it brushes against my face.
