On the days I’m not at Wes’s, I spend hours of my time working in my little corner of the library. My own room is too confining, too claustrophobic, which is crazy because a few weeks ago it was my place of solace. Now, it just seems lonely.
On rare occasions, Wes meets me in the library, but more often than not it’s Quinn and her boyfriend, Remy, sliding into the chairs across from me.
Remy’s an interesting guy. Definitely the silent and brooding type, speaking more with his eyes than with his words. But I cantell by the adoring looks he shoots Quinn that he really cares for her.
What I wouldn’t give for someone to look at me like that.
Maybe someday, if you can ever get over your shit.
Tucked at my usual table, I’ve just cracked open my history book when Quinn and Remy appear. My roommate sinks down into the chair across from me without so much as a hello and blurts, “Okay, don’t freak out.”
I stare at her, then glance at Remy. Unfortunately, he gives nothing away with his expression. “Next time you might want to lead with something less dramatic if you’re trying to prevent a freak out,” I tell her. “What’s going on?”
Quinn’s eyes dart nervously toward her boyfriend before she says, “There’s been some…chatter.”
“Chatter,” I repeat slowly.
“About you and a certain six-five, brown-eyed superstar.”
I blink at her. “I think he’s six-four, actually.”
She waves me off. “Semantics. Anyway, some girls are spreading some,” she hesitates, “not-so-nice rumors.”
“W-what?” My pulse skips, too fast and too loud, and I press my clammy hands against the tops of my thighs. That was the absolute last thing I expected her to say because I’m invisible, aren’t I? I’m supposed to be invisible. “Well, what are they saying?”
“Oh, a whole butt load of things.” Quinn winces. “Maybe you don’t want to know.”
“Then why did you tell her?” asks Remy, speaking up for the first time.
“Because shedeservesto know.”
I bite my lip, considering. On one hand, finding out this sort of information will probably wreck me. But on the other, I can’t stand being kept in the dark. With my overactive imagination,I’ll conjure up too many horrific scenarios in my head. “I want to know what they’re saying.”
Quinn sighs. “Alright. Well, they’re saying…they’re saying that you’re a s-l-u-t. That you screwed half the guys on the team. That you were messing around with Wes when he was still with his ex. That you’re a witch and you cast a spell on him?—”
“What?!”
“—so he won’t look at other girls. That you have a shrine to him in your bedroom. That you’re a?—”
I hold up a hand. “Okay, stop, stop, stop. You’re saying you overheard peoplesayingall that?”
“Have you heard of UChat? It’s a forum, kind of like Reddit, but for university questions and gossip. Well, an entire post is dedicated to you…and it’s trending.”
Trending?Incredulous, I glance at Remy for confirmation. He nods. “It is.”
My hands start to shake, my fingertips tingling. I swallow hard and clench them into fists beneath the table. “Can I see it?”
Quinn frowns. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
I debate it for half a second and then nod. “I need to see it.”
Remy and Quinn exchange a loaded look before she pulls up the app on her phone and slides it across to me. With a shaky hand, I read the post.
“There are pictures?” I cry, suddenly nauseous. I stare at a picture of me and Wes from the day we went sledding, his arm thrown over my shoulder. There’s a picture of us walking out of class together. A picture of us in his car. A picture outside my apartment building. They’re all taken from odd angles, some of them out of focus, some of them obstructed. How did I not realize people were snapping my photo left and right?
“Oh, yeah. Did I not, um, mention that?” I shake my head and scroll through the anonymous comments. “Girls here are fucking crazy. And they’re fucking obsessed with Wes Tucker.”
What a slut.
