The two most irritating humans on campus willingly pairing up and multiplying. Fantastic. My condolences to the baby.
"You said there was no way," Cici continues, "because she doesn't look fat anymore."
My molars tighten. Of course that's the first thing out of her mouth.
Tyler pops his gum and gives me that sleazy slow grin—the kind that made me want to shower even back then.
"Yeah, gotta admit," he says, giving an obnoxious once-over, eyes shamelessly dragging from my face down to my chest, then slowly back up, "major glow-up, Sugar Plump."
Sugar Plump.I thought he'd retired that name. Guess not.
"Last time I saw you, you were—boom." He widens his arms in a balloon gesture.
Cici practically screeches laughing. The woman behind us startles. I roll my eyes and push the cart forward with the line. If I ignore them hard enough, maybe they'll wither like neglected houseplants.
Nope. Of course not.
Tyler leans in a little, smelling like gum and poor decisions. His gaze drags down my body again—slow, sticky, absolutelydisgusting. "Heard you went to New York. Just visiting for the holiday?"
I resist the urge to reach for hand sanitizer.
Before I can answer, Cici jumps in. "Does Zach know you're back?" she says with a pouty little sneer. "Super heartless to leave without saying goodbye." She tilts her head. "Though honestly? Probably the only good thing you ever did. Zach was way better without you hanging on him. Right, babe?"
"Yeah," Tyler says automatically, though his eyes are glued to my chest. Not even attempting subtlety. I want to gouge his eyeballs out with a plastic spoon.
Cici keeps going, because of course she does. "But hey, guess New York did you good." She gestures vaguely at my body. "I mean, look at you—lost all that weight." She smirks. "How much did you drop? Two hundred pounds?"
She snickers like she's just delivered the joke of the century.
I wasn't even close to that big—but accuracy was never her thing. Cruelty was.
I breathe in slowly. They think they still have the power to gut me. They honestly believe their words will land like they used to.
But all I feel is this dull, distant pity.
For them.
For how small their world must be.
For how little they've grown.
And God, for whatever poor baby is about to be raised by these two clowns.
Tyler's gaze crawls over me again, lingering in places that make my skin prickle with disgust. "You've really changed," he says, leaning in. "Got all... thin. Pretty, even." His lips curl into something between a smile and a leer. "Hot."
I nearly gag.
"If you don't quit looking at her like that, I'll carve those eyes out while you're still conscious enough to watch me do it."
That growl—low, dangerous—comes from behind me.
Zach.
He steps in front of me instantly, crowding into my space like a wall of muscle built out of puremine. His jaw is tight, shoulders squared, anger rolling off him in waves as he stares Tyler down.
Tyler freezes. Gum stops. That stupid smirk stutters.
Cici, meanwhile, lights up like Times Square. She literally lifts her chest, repositions her hair, and smiles like he just arrived to pick her up.
