I laugh silently at the absurd thought.
But is itthatabsurd?
I don’t let the thought linger, because I don’t know if I’m ready to face what it may mean.
Four
Hudson
I’m forced awake from my nap by the sensation of ants crawling on my skin. Fuck, I hate waking up like this. My anxiety’s been worse since I lied to Cull about the condom on Monday. It was a random thought that I ran with.
I thought it would steer things in the right direction, but mostly, it just made me feel like shit.
My phone buzzes next to me.
ELLA: You’ll be at Katie’s party tonight, right?
Crap. I forgot about that. The clock reads just after seven, so I have about forty-five minutes before Cull picks us up. He volunteered to be the designated driver tonight.
ME: Yeah, should be there a little after eight.
ELLA: Oh, thank god. I want to hang. Hadley has been a headache about Cullen lately.
She’s not wrong. Hadley hasn’t stopped griping about how much he’s changed. But it’s still not enough to get her to break up with him. Their toxic cycle keeps spinning.
My phone buzzes again, reminding me I haven’t replied to Ella.
UNKNOWN:I love the blue shirt you wore today.
Damn, this is the third message from this number today. It’s been weeks of flirty texts, and I’ve never responded. You’d think they’d get the hint. I block the number, then reply to Ella.
ME: Alright. See you there.
I toss my phone on the bed and stare at the ceiling. I don’t have the energy for a party, but my friends expect me to show up. No matter how I feel, the show must go on.
The mask has to stay on.
Grabbing some water and my meds, I swallow half a dose. It’s not the best move before drinking, but cutting off my anxiety is worth it.
Pulling a light blue polo from my closet, I tug it over my head along with the dark wash jeans I wore to school. With a run of my hand through my hair and a spritz of cologne, I call it good.
I shouldn’t care this much. It’s not like I want anyone’s attention tonight.
Except Cullen’s.
I growl, annoyed with myself for always craving the impossible.
Stomping down the stairs, I search for my shoes where I kicked them off earlier, but my stomach growls impatiently, so I detour to the kitchen. I slap together a sandwich, eat standing at the counter, and wash it down with a bottle of water.
With nerves still buzzing beneath my skin, I head back to the foyer to wait for Cullen.
Heavy clomping comes from behind me, so I glance back and nearly choke. Hadley is dressed to kill. Or at least give someone a non-fatal heart attack.
She’s squeezed into a hot pink, skin-tight microdress that looks uncomfortable as hell. Her matching sky-high heels could be used as weapons, and her hair is curled and fluffed to within an inch of its life.
Not to mention the layers of makeup.
Cullen will absolutely hate it.
