“Okay,” I relent, making note not to make that mistake again.
Before she pops back up, I lean further into the counter, trying to get closer to her so she can hear me. “What’s going on?”
She leans back on her calves to keep balanced. “Let me go.”
Glancing down, I realize I still have her hand in mine. I release my hold. “What happened?” I ask again.
Her eyes narrow into tiny beads when she looks at me. “Why would anything have to be wrong for me to enjoy myself, for me to be me?”
“I don’t know,” I mutter, playing it off. She’s clearly on the edge of her seat, and I need to tread carefully. “Do you want to get a drink with me? I’m thirsty.”
Maybe if I change tactics, it’ll get her the hell off this counter and prevent her from showing skin.
“Then go get one.”
“Will you come with me?”
“Really, Violet?” She’s annoyed, the glaze over her eyes a reminder of that. “You can’t walk, what, fifteen feet and get yourself a drink? If you want to be clingy, call Webber. I’m sure he’d love to have you all over him like you are me right now.”
My breath hitches.
The low blow that comes with her alcohol induced personality aims itself straight at me.
“Why do you have to do that?”
Everleigh invited me out to have fun. Granted, I didn’t exactly want to come but I didn’t sign up for this crap.
“Do what?”
“Make comments about Webber.”
“Because it’s true, isn’t it?” Someone, who I assume is on the football team, because of the jersey he’s wearing, hands her a red solo cup. She accepts it graciously. I jump to try and snatch it from her greedy palm. She shifts away from me in the nick of time, gulping down the liquid like its water. I’m willing to bet it’s not.
We never used to take open lid cups from people at parties. You learn that during welcome week from upperclassmen if common sense doesn’t already make you aware enough of the risky outcomes that could happen. If you don’t get it, you don’t drink it.
“If you were clinging to him, I wouldn’t have seen him up close and personal with another girl in the quad today.”
My breathing halts mid-breath because it comes as a shock that she’d even bring it up to me when she was the one telling me not to get back with him, to not be stupid and waste more of my time on him.
Why would she intentionally try to upset me?
My heart twinges with pain at the memory of him going home every summer and coming back the following semester as if we didn’t not talk for months in between.
I’ll never be good enough for Webber, I know that, but I can’t say it doesn’t bother me to hear Sylvia say these things.
Why are people like this?
Why is it so damn hard for people to commit?
And why does alcohol make some people evil bitches?
As if she’s slowly pressing the tip of a blade into my skin, she adds, “You weren’t on his mind, but boy, was she. His nose was nuzzled into her neck, and she was laughing. I bet if she were here, she’d be up here with me. God, Violet, you really need to learn how the hell to have fun. No wonder Webber never took you home to meet his parents.”
I blink up at her as her words reach inside of me and pull my emotions to the surface. She knows everything that’s happened between Webber and I. Sober, I think I can trust her, but she’s been too testy and drinking more than usual, disappearing into bathrooms with random guys and flashing others. There’s no getting through to her when she spirals like this.
Part of why I haven’t shared what happened this summer with her.
I can take her insults where Webber is concerned, but I wouldn’t handle it well if she made comments about my family, about my dad.
