I spent weeks after in a daze, wandering around campus in my pajamas, skipping classes, barely holding on. I nearly lost my scholarship. It was all too much. In one swift blow, I lost both the love of my life and my shot at a future in art.It was all so overwhelming. It kind of still is.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to say anything wrong—” Hayes's voice slices through the fog of my memories, yanking me back to the present.
“You didn’t,” I reply softly, my voice barely a whisper. “I was just… lost in thought. I’m okay.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“Come on,” he says, offering his hand. “Let’s go back in before they send out a search party.”
I take his hand, the warmth of his touch lingering even after he lets go, and follow him back inside, staring down at my warm tingling fingers.
Back at the table, Jonathan shoots me a look of disapproval as he saws into a giant slab of steak, its bloody juices pooling around the meat like a crime scene. Marissa’s voice fills the air, loud and oblivious, rambling on and on about bridesmaid dresses while Tessa feigns interest, her eyes glued to her phone. Colors and styles. I feel my stomach churn; I no longer have any appetite.
I watch Jonathan devour his steak, his knife hacking away at the meat and his fork shoveling it into his mouth. A giant scoop of mashed potatoes next, a great big dollop falling onto the napkin in his lap. Classy.
“Tori?”
I blink, dragged out of my mental fog. Marissa stares at me from across the table. Tessa too.Jonathan is frozen mid-chew. Griffin looks appalled, and Hayes’s eyes are wide.
“What? I’m sorry. I wasn’t listening. I was…daydreaming, again,” I mumble, trying to piece together whatever nonsense I missed.
Marissa tilts her head, her drink held up to catch the light, the diamond on her finger catching the best angle. “I was asking what you thought about beach weddings. The sound of the ocean is so relaxing, don’t you think? So beautiful.”
I try to force a smile, to muster some sort of a response. Neither works. My mind is elsewhere, still haunted by old ghosts.
“A tropical island. A resort even.” Marissa is the sort of person who only asks questions just to hear herself answer them—she doesn’t really give a shit about your feelings.
“You should be one of my bridesmaids. Along with Ellis and Tessa,” she adds, her tone bright but empty.
See what I mean?
“Awkward,” Griffin mutters under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear.
“Yes! Sure,” I blurt out, too loudly, too clumsily. “Of course! I’d love to. How exciting.” I plaster a smile on my face, but it feels as fake as everything else around me.
I avoid looking at anyone else, focusing instead on my own slab of meat, bleeding out in a sad, pink puddle. I stab my fork into it with more force than necessary. Sure, eucalyptus green sounds perfect for a December wedding. Of course, abachelorette weekend in Vegas is the epitome of class and sophistication. Absolutely, destination weddings are the thing now. No, no, none of this is too much to ask,you stupid, selfish, self-absorbed bitch.
It is, though. It’s all too much. Each word, each trivial detail brings up a hot burst of fiery rage inside me, simmering just beneath the surface. I sip my drink robotically, my fingers clenching the glass like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. I smile at all the right moments and chew my veiny, stringy steak, which has been salted way too much. I give up on the meal after my fourth bite and settle for a liquid dinner. The alcohol burns deep in my belly, but it’s a welcome distraction.
“We should try and get into the amusement park tonight,” Tessa suggests, her voice cutting through the tension. I wonder if she sees my discomfort, if she’s trying to pull me out of my misery. “I kept emailing and calling them about making a reservation, but nobody got back to me.”
“You know,” Griffin chimes in, clearly eager to shift the mood, “besides that security guard, the place once had a serial killer working there. He worked the Ferris wheel. He was this messed-up guy who would lure beautiful dark-haired girls into the park at night, kill them, and grind up their flesh to sell in meat pies.”
“Really?” Marissa snaps, clearly irritated.
“No,” Griffin laughs, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’m totally making that shit up.” He pauses, enjoying the moment before adding, “It was actually for the meatball subs.”
Marissa rolls her eyes, muttering under her breath, “These trips aren’t as fun as they used to be.”
Jonathan nods absently beside her, his eyes scanning the restaurant for the waiter, clearly more interested in getting another drink than joining in the conversation.
“Remember when we went to Salem? That was the best trip ever,” Tessa says, trying to inject some life into this trainwreck of a dinner.
“Yeah, good times,” Griffin mumbles, scrolling through his phone.
I laugh, louder than I mean to, the alcohol buzzing in my veins. It’s not real laughter—more of a desperate sound, a release. The forced nature of this dinner, of these so-called friendships, is painfully obvious.
Everyone turns to stare at me like I’ve just committed some social atrocity. It was just a laugh.
The table falls silent.
