My jaw clenches, the air in my lungs rattling against my rib cage. When her mouth tugs into that self-righteous smirk, a match lights inside me, igniting a fire so fierce there won’t be any survivors.
“Look at you,” she continues, soft and condescending. “You don’t even know how to think for yourself, do you?”
I used to want to disappear for Krissy. Hide all the special parts that made me me, yearning for acceptance. But I’ve come to realize I’m tired of hiding; nobody is worth disappearing for. Tough shit if she doesn’t want me the way I am; that’s exactly what I’m about to give her.
“I’m sorry, Krissy,” I murmur, closing the distance between us. “But I don’t speak dipshit.”
Her eyes blaze. “What did you say?”
“You heard me,” I parrot back. When I take a step forward, she takes one back. “I cannot believe I ever wanted to be a part of your group. What would ever entice me to be friends with you? I am nothing like you. I used to think it was my fault, that I didn’t know how to make friends, that there must be something wrong with me. Now I know I just have fucking standards.” My gaze flicks to Ashley and Ashlee as they step away from Krissy like they want nothing to do with this. “You girls should think about getting some.”
“You’re a bitch,” Krissy spits. “The only reason anybody ever wants to be your friend is because of your brother.”
I used to think so, too, but I’m slowly learning there are people in my life who love me for exactly who I am and what I have to offer.
“My brother is funny as fuck, compassionate, and loves harder than anybody I know. I don’t blame people if they see what he has to offer and want to add another Beckett to their lives. Quite frankly, we kick fucking ass. But you…” I lift a brow, looking her over. “You know what you are, Krissy? You’re the type of girl who peaked in high school. Pretty enough, popular enough, with a cute enough boyfriend. You thought it could only go up from there. Then you stepped into the real world and realized you were only one of many. That you didn’t stand out the way you wanted to. That your version of enough wasn’t enough anymore. Everybody else grew up, but you’re stuck wishing for a life that doesn’t exist.”
Stalking toward her, I revel in the way she stumbles as she frantically tries to match each step, and I continue.
“You’re mean, nasty, miserable, and quite frankly, a solid six out of ten at best when it comes to dance.”
Krissy gasps. “Fuck you.”
“I used to wonder why you hated me, kept myself awake wondering how I could make myself better so you’d want to be my friend. But that’s impossible, isn’t it? You hate me because you’re nothing like me, but you wish you were. You’re jealous. You have the friends, the popularity, the army that follows you so recklessly, but you’re still miserable. My group may be small, but my people love me for exactly who I am, and who I am is something I refuse to change, not for you, and not for anyone.
“So, walk in my brother’s shadow? I don’t fucking think so. The only people who walk in shadows are those who follow you so blindly, who have no idea there’s a life out there that you’re not a part of, one that’s happier, with friendships so much more fulfilling than the ugly way you dictate yours.”
Krissy’s shallow breathing fills the hallway. “I hate you.”
“Guess what? I don’t give a fuck. Not anymore.”
She trips over her feet when she spins, catching herself before she can fall, and as she storms away, she orders her friends to follow.
Ashlee lingers, eyes bouncing between Krissy’s quickly retreating form and me. “You didn’t just take her down a peg or two; you demolished her entire ship.” Her head swivels when Krissy screams her name, and when she looks back at me, she grins. “Glad I got to see it. See ya later, Jennie. Can’t wait to watch you kick ass tomorrow.”
She turns her back on Krissy and heads for the exit behind me, throwing her middle finger up over her shoulder when Krissy shrieks once more.
A slow clap fills the hallway, and Simon emerges from the doorway of the gym, whistling lowly. “Dang, Jennie. Look at you go.”
“That was long overdue.” I roll my neck over my shoulders, sighing as it cracks. I’ve released an unholy amount of tension, but it’s only made me aware just how much I was carrying. “I can’t wait to never see them again.”
“Don’t worry about them.” Simon grips my shoulders, fingers digging into my tight, sore muscles. “They’re not all that fun.”
“Says the guy who’s slept with all three of them.” I shrug out of Simon’s grasp, though the massage feels heavenly. “They must have been fun enough to fuck.”
“If they were fun, I’d still be sleeping with them.” His mouth dips to my ear. “If they were really fun, I’d be sleeping with all three of them at the same time.”
I swat him away. “You’re gross.”
Simon chuckles. “Truly disgusting. Wanna come back to my place? We can soak in the jacuzzi, let our muscles rest.”
“I can’t. Garrett’s picking me up soon.”
“Your boyfriend?”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“He picks you up all the time.”
“He does not pick me up all the time.” Sometimes he’s out of the country. “We live in the same building. It’s purely convenience. There’s absolutely nothing romantic between us.”
Simon’s eyes glide over my face, examining the authenticity of my words, I’d guess, but I’ve gotten fairly good at lying about this. “Really?”
“Just friends.”
“All right,” he whispers, palm curving around my nape as he tows me closer. “Well, your friend is here, looking ultra jealous, which is odd since you’re…just friends.”
My head snaps, finding Garrett hovering in the doorway, keys dangling from the tip of his pointer finger, other hand tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie as he watches us. Deep crease in his forehead, full lips turned down in a frown, and a highly noticeable tic in his jaw, Garrett Andersen looks nothing like the goofy, sweet man I’ve come to know over the past months. The sight alone is enough to make my stomach twist and knot.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I toss out, dashing toward Garrett, my smile brightening as I go. “Hey, big guy.”
The crease between his brows doesn’t diminish as he stares down at me, and when he finally whispers, “Hi,” I know well enough that something’s not right.
I grab his elbow and tug him toward his waiting car, desperate for privacy. “I missed you. How was your flight?”
“Fine,” he mumbles, and before I can ask him what’s wrong, he whisks me into my seat and closes the door. It’s not my imagination that he stalls getting in, pretending to look for the keys he had in his hands a moment ago. When he finally climbs in, the chill of the outdoors returns, stealing the warmth of his heated car.
The first thing I notice is the empty cupholders. Without asking, Garrett consistently shows up with a cinnamon bun cappuccino. He presses it into my hands, warming them on contact, and touches his lips to mine before he shifts into drive and asks how my day was.