“Who’s an idiot?”
Sylvia trails into the living room from the hall, her body adorned in pajamas. Made up in messy hair and her make-up from the night before, she looks like crap.
I’ve been less and less happy about bumping into her lately. I never know how she’s going to act or what she’s going to say. We also haven’t discussed her rude remarks at Fletcher’s party, or the situation with Nelson, or how she jumped down Colson’s throat at Lucy’s and during Sebastian’s gamer night.
Ev takes one glance at our roommate and laughs. “What the heck happened to you?”
Sylvia drops to the armchair, curling her legs under her. “I went out with Fletcher and a few of his friends last night.”
“How’d that go?” Ev is intrigued. Curious. Wondering all the same things I am, I’m sure.
“Some parts are hazy.”
“Sheesh. Wait, didn’t you have class this morning?”
Realization dawns on Sylvia’s face and she smacks her fist down on her leg. “Shit, I must’ve turned my alarm off this morning and went back to bed. I totally forgot.”
Everleigh sucks air in through her teeth. She’d never miss class. No matter what she did the night before. “Hopefully you didn’t miss much. Oh, and by the way, there’s postage on the counter for you. Looks like it came from Ireland.”
Sylvia groans, and I wonder if her reaction has more to do about who wrote the letter than the fact it’s here. I think she’smore than content with the crappy choices she’s made to ever contemplate returning home to her family. However, the letters have been more frequent ever since last semester, and while Everleigh and I know they exist, we don’t know the details of the contents within or why someone would be writing her to begin with. Not when it’s the twenty-first century and nearly everyone has a phone glued to their hand. We don’t ask questions. We just tell her when one has been delivered.
“I’ll get it then,” she says, then quickly switches back to the topic of lectures. “Neither of you need to be on campus?”
I shake my head no. Ev adds, “Not until later.”
“Lucky bitches.” I turn my gaze back to the movie, but Sylvia prods me almost immediately. “What’s with you?”
“Nothing, I’m good,” I lie. Her personality is the last thing I want to deal with this morning. Not because I’m necessarily in a mood but because things are going mostly okay. Colson and I are happy. Olive and I talked today. I may not be on speaking terms with my parents, but Dad’s secret is out in the open.
A sympathetic look ghosts Ev’s features when she glances over. Maybe she’s wondering if it’s cool to share what we were talking about. Maybe she feels the tension between Sylvia and I about to snap.
“Don’t bullshit me, Vi.”
You know what?
Fine.Fine.
She wants to know why I’m being short?
“You want it straight?” She raises a brow, telling me to go for it. “You’ve been mean, drinking a ton, and have no regard for other people’s feelings.”
She rolls her eyes. “Here we go.”
“I don’t know what to tell you if you don’t want to hear it, Sylvia.”
Facts are, she’s worse than she’s ever been. Freshman year, I spent a lot of time partying with her and Ev. We spent loads of time hopping parties, having a good time, and enjoying our freedom. But now…it’s tacky. Even more so when she’s throwing people who have been there for her under the bus for no reason.
“What’d I say to you that wasn’t the truth? God. You get your panties in a twist so fast nowadays. It’s crazy.”
“The specifics don’t matter. Half the stuff that leaves your mouth when you drink doesn’t need to, yet it still does.”
Her brow lifts in challenge. “What have I said that you’ve had a problem with?”
I scoff, an incredulous laugh leaving me as I sit straight. “Are you kidding me? At Fletcher’s party, you commented on Webber and all the reasons why he left me, saying that I was a bore and that’s why he never took me home. That it was the very reason why he was off gallivanting with other girls on campus.Afteryou sat at that table right there,” I toss my thumb over my shoulder, “and told me not to get back with him. There’s also you siccing Fletcher’s bulldog on me and jumping down Colson’s throat when he was the one that got me out of the sticky situationyouput me in. If you were me, and someone you considered your friend did that to you, how would you feel?”
She wouldn’t like it.
She holds my stare, heat licking up the back of my spine because damn it. I’m pissed. I’m tired of letting people act however they want without thinking their poor choices won’t follow them. And also, I’m over not speaking up when it bothers me.
