Author: Teresa Mummert

He was right. She wasn’t my friend. Oh, God, he was right. I felt like I was going to be sick. I could only hope this humiliation would end soon. Abel’s voice lowered, and I could tell he was trying to compose himself. “I wasn’t talking shit about you. That was Trish. I just wanted to know what Brock did to you. It wasn’t my place, and I should have known you wouldn’t have confided in her, but I was fucking curious because I’ve seen you cry over him. It’s not right.”

“If I wanted to tell you, I would have.” My voice was small, defeated.

“Third, I didn’t fuck Trish. I’m not into girls throwing themselves at me. It’s not very fucking attractive.”

“Then why did you go into her room?” I tried to stand taller, to match his height, but I still had to bend my head back to look up at him.

“I didn’t want you to wake up to your friend trying to fuck me on the couch five feet away from you.”

“Why do you even care?”

“Because she wasn’t the one I wanted to kiss during that game. No one here has ever tried to get to know me. All they ever want is to find their next high. I thought you were different, but it didn’t matter because you’re hung up on some asshole a thousand miles away.” He took a step back, and now he was the one who looked pissed. “Go home, Delilah.” He turned back toward the old house.

“What happened to ‘Kettle’?” I called after him.

“You tell me,” he yelled back without turning back around. He disappeared inside the house, and my shoulders sagged in defeat.

“Way to fucking go, Lie,” I mumbled, as I got back into Trish’s car and left.

I arrived home to a still‐sleeping and none‐the‐wiser Trish. I was thankful that I at least had another day to wallow in pity before it all came crashing down and I’d be on a bus to nowhere. By nighttime I had myself convinced that Abel was going to be long gone, and Tuesday would be like every other worthless day in my life. He had to be growing tired of his relationship with Trish. Guys like him didn’t get attached. It couldn’t be too long before he was nothing but a memory.

I fell asleep to images of a very different version of spin the bottle and awoke to the still‐dark sky. I slipped out onto the fire escape and watched the sunrise through the clouds and wondered whether Abel was doing the same.

I was a zombie in all my classes, and I did my best to avoid Trish, no longer feeling up to playing the game that was my life. It was no use, though, because she was unavoidable at home.

“What should I wear?” she asked me.

“For what?” I kept my eyes glued to my Kindle, as I desperately tried to escape reality.

She sighed dramatically as she stared at me. “For my date with Abel.”

“You’re still doing that? I thought you would have lost interest by now.”

“Yeah, right. I need to hit that first. There’s something about that guy…”

“I get it.” I held up my hand to stop her from continuing. “Wear something tiny. Show him what he’s missing.” I wanted her to hurry up and get it over with so he wouldn’t be at our apartment anymore. I wanted things to go back to our own fucked‐up version of normal. I didn’t like Abel stealing my dream time from Brock.

“That’s a given. I’m thinking the black mini with that pink halter. Put my girls front and center.” She grabbed her boobs, and I rolled my eyes.

“Sounds great. Whatever you think.”

“Awesome! He’s going to be here any minute.”

“Wait…what?” I put down my Kindle and looked up at her.

“Change of plans. He called me last night. He’s dying to get in this.”

That son of a bitch. After his whole “I wish it was you” speech, he called Slutty McBoobs and moved up their fuckfest? Wow. This was just freaking amazing. I tossed my Kindle and got up from the couch, determined to prove I didn’t care.

I stalked off to my closet and began to rip through my clothing, but nothing could compare to what Trish would have on. I ran out of my room and knocked on her door.

“Come in,” she practically purred.

“Calm yourself. It’s just me.” I stepped inside her room. “I need to borrow some clothes. I’m going out.”

“Really?” She jumped with excitement. “You have a date?” Why did she have to sound so surprised?

“Not yet, but I will before the night’s over.”

“That’s my girl. Take what you want.”

I made my way to her closet and dug through it, trying to find something sexy that still kept everything as covered as possible. I pulled out a deep‐purple V‐neck top and an off‐white skirt that barely covered my ass if I stood perfectly straight.

I took off to my room and changed into my super‐slut gear. I kept my hair down because I knew there wasn’t much time. Instead I focused on my face. I gave myself smoky eyes and used three coats of mascara. This was as good as it was getting.

I hurried out of the bathroom and ran into a brick wall, better known as Abel. My eyes traveled up his body to his eyes; they were locked on my chest, which was pressed against him and pushing out of my top.

“My eyes are up here,” I repeated his words from the other day with a confident smile. I wasn’t going to let him know he bothered me.

“I know where they are, Delilah.” His eyes lingered on my chest for an extra second before they met mine.

“Have fun on your date.” I pulled out of his arms and walked around him to my room, letting out the breath I was holding as I stepped inside. The door closed behind me, and I whipped around to see Abel standing in my room in front of the closed door.

“Can I help you?” I asked with a cocky smirk as I tightened the back of one of my earrings. He walked closer.

“I had you all wrong, Kettle.” His eyes traveled up and down my body. “You are just like us.”

I knew he was trying to insult me, but I didn’t care. “If you can’t beat ‘em…”

“…whore yourself out to the first willing drunk to prove a half‐assed point?” he finished, and my eyes narrowed.

“Shut up.”

He took a step closer, and I took one back. “Save yourself the cab fare, and let me take care of you right here.”

“Fuck you,” I spat as I shoved against his chest.

“Exactly.” He pushed against my hands and closed the gap between us, letting me feel just how serious he was.

“Why are you acting like such an asshole?” I asked, as his face hovered over mine.

“This is who I am, right? This is what you want? You want to be treated like Trish? Like trash?”

“This outfit doesn’t change who I am.” I folded my arms over my chest, feeling stupid and childish.

“Remember that fact tonight when every prick in the club is trying to undress you on the dance floor because you’re practically fucking naked. This…” He motioned to my clothing. “…doesn’t make a fucking difference.”

He turned and left my room, closing the door behind him. I stared at the wall in disbelief as I listened to Trish and Abel laugh and chat on their way out of the apartment, my heart shattering inside my chest.

A few minutes later, my phone chimed, and I picked it up and looked at the screen through blurry eyes.

I’m sorry.

That was all he said, but it didn’t matter, and I didn’t respond. I got up and pulled myself together for a night on the town. The cab arrived twenty minutes later, and I was off to Cloud Nine. I was sure Trish and Abel wouldn’t be there because she hated the fact that the walls were purple. She thought it made her look orange with her fake tan.

I started the night by pounding back a few shots. My head began to swim, and my limbs became deliciously numb. The magic powder that was left in Trish’s room added a nice touch, and soon I was flying. I was the life of the party.

I danced with anyone who was willing and screamed when a song came on that I loved. People bought me drinks left and right, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t jumped in with both feet sooner. Trish lived like a goddess, and now I was on my own pedestal and never wanted to come down.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” the guy grinding against my ass moaned into my ear. I turned around to face him, blinking several times before I could focus on his face. He had dark hair and hadn’t shaved for a few days, but through beer goggles, he was definitely doable.

“What’s your name?” I asked, smiling brightly as my high grew.

“Who cares?”

Maybe I had no idea what I was doing. How fucking hard was it to get laid?“ I’m going to get another drink.”

He nodded and disappeared deeper into the crowd. I worked my way back to the bar as my phone vibrated. I pulled it out and moved it away from my face as my eyes struggled to focus on the small type.

How’s the book?

I rolled my eyes and motioned for the bartender. “What can I get you, beautiful?” His eyes were fixed on my chest.

“Give me something hard,” I yelled over the noise.

“Oh, darlin’, I can give you something hard.” His tongue ran over his lips, and I drew back in disgust. My phone vibrated again.

That good, huh?

I quickly typed a reply, not wanting to deal with Abel’s shit.

Wouldn’t know, but this bartender says he has something hard for me. ;)

“Just give me a double Jameson with a Coke back,” I called out, and he nodded, looking unpleased. My phone lit up in rapid succession with messages.

Guess I did have you wrong.

You had me fooled.

Brock would be proud.

That last one gutted me, and I drank back my shot and stumbled toward the front door, wanting nothing more than to get away from everyone. I called a cab and sat on the curb as I waited for it to arrive and take me as far away from this place as I could get.

The trip was a blur, and my stomach swam with every dip and bump in the road. When the cab finally pulled over, I knew it was going to be a long night. I threw the driver a twenty and stumbled up to bed.

My eyes closed and begged the room to stand still as my phone vibrated.

Do I need to come find you?

“Stupid asshole,” I slurred as I typed a message back to him.

I’m in bed.

I groaned as I rolled onto my back and looked up to the ceiling. Then Abel responded:

Whose bed?

My phone rang before I could send back a smartass response.

“Whose bed?” he asked angrily.

“What is your fucking deal?”

“You gonna answer the question?” I heard Trish in the background, but she didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the phone call.

“My bed. You done?” I snapped, as I kicked off my shoes.

“Liar, liar, Kettle. I’m looking at your bed right now, and it’s empty,” he said in a hushed tone.

“Ugh. Get out of my room, and stop calling me ‘Kettle’!”

“Are you alone?” he asked angrily. I rubbed my hand over my forehead, wanting to lie and tell him I was at some strange guy’s house, but I couldn’t do it.

“I’m alone. Now get out of my room.”

“Fine. I’ll go to our room,” he said, and the call disconnected. Just fucking great. I rolled over and stared at the small dresser across the room in the spooky old house. I didn’t know why I’d come here, but anything seemed better than listening to Trish and Abel screwing all night long.

I waited for the inevitable fight that was going to come. If I wasn’t with someone, there was only one place I would be. It only took about ten minutes for me to hear his car pull up outside and the engine cut off. I listened to the car door open and slam. It was only one. He didn’t bring Trish, and I thanked God for small miracles, but as the front door opened, my heart raced.