by KV Rose
“He let Rihanna Martinson kiss him after practice last week, so I sucked another guy off.” I grab a small elastic from the counter of my bathroom, fasten my braid, and go to work on the other side.
Alex loves when I wear my hair in braids.
I hope I see him before my philosophy seminar.
“Zara!” Kylie gasps, a hand over her poor little heart. “That’s… that’s terrible.”
I shrug. “Well, Rihanna is dead now, so—”
“No,” she interrupts me, her voice rising an octave. “It’s terrible that you… that you…”
“Sucked another guy’s dick?” I supply, since she seems to be choking on the words. Every pun intended.
Her light brown skin goes pale and she looks like she might faint. “Yeah. That.”
I finish braiding my hair, flick both ends over my shoulders and grab my toothbrush, wet it under the sink, and squeeze on toothpaste and start brushing.
I shrug and shake my head, but don’t say anything until I’m done brushing, spitting in the sink and wiping my hand over the back of my mouth.
“Yeah, well.” I turn to face her after I set the brush down. “No one ever said I was a good person, huh, Kylie?” I pat her awkwardly on the back and walk out of the bathroom, across my room, to my little walk-in closet.
“Gah, Zara. That’s… wow,” I hear her mumbling, and I don’t even know if she’s talking to me or herself at this point.
I pull a cream-colored tank from a hanger, grab my pale blue jeans, then my white bralette that’s hanging on the back of the closet door. I start to change in the closet, and Kylie keeps talking, not really ready to give this up yet, apparently.
She clears her throat first, then says, “People have been saying the police are ruling out murder. About Rihanna.”
I roll my eyes, unseen by her. “Yeah, they have to. They’re the police,” I call back to her from the closet.
“Yeah…” she trails off, but I know she’s not done, because Kylie is a curious girl. It’s one of the things that I like about her. She’s super into science, which I hate, and she doesn’t party, which I don’t get, but she asks a lot of questions about a lot of things. Sometimes that’s annoying as hell, but sometimes it makes for interesting conversations. Like the time she drilled Ian about his past sexual partners at the dining room table.
Ian’s face was beet red as he shoved his glasses up his nose and looked down at his hands.
Kylie was seemingly oblivious to his embarrassment. She just really wanted to know.
“You don’t think anyone hurt her, do you?” she continues.
I straighten my top and walk out of the closet. “Like who?”
She shrugs, leaning against the doorway to the bathroom. “I mean, I wasn’t there, but… I don’t know. Alex didn’t really have a problem pulling down your top in front of all of those people and, you know, he’s got a bad temper.”
I wince, remembering the time I threw a glass cup at the wall in the living room, in the middle of one of our fights. It shattered into pieces and Alex took the blame when Kylie came out of her room, horrified.
He’s not the only one with a bad temper.
We’re like fire and gasoline.
“Kylie. He didn’t kill Rihanna. He was with me all night.” Yeah, he’s a hot head but the idea of Alex killing anyone is kind of hilarious. I push past Kylie back into the bathroom and grab my Chapstick from the counter. As I roll it over my lips, a sharp sting makes me wince. I lean in closer to the mirror, pulling up my top lip.
There’s a small cut, angry and red.
From where Alex pried my mouth open with a tequila bottle.
I force myself not to look at Kylie because I’m not about to explain what happened in that kitchen. And then the pool.
Shit.
Maybe the idea of Alex killing someone isn’t that funny after all.
I put down the Chapstick and pick up my eyeliner.
“You know he broke that guy’s nose on the field,” Kylie adds, as if she’s building evidence against Alex.
“I know,” I snap back. “I was there. But he didn’t kill anyone, Kylie. You sure you wanna be a pharmacist? I think you’d make a good detective.”
She blows out a breath behind me as I concentrate on my liner. “Honestly, I’m just glad you two broke up,” she continues. “He’s not good for you.”
I snort, shaking my head but not saying anything as I lean back from the mirror, pick up my mascara.
I’m not good for him.
I finish up my makeup, bat my eyes a few times and toss my mascara on the counter in the corner with my other products.
I glance over my shoulder and smile at Kylie. “Thanks, Ky.”
She winces, and I remember belatedly she doesn’t really like when I call her that. But she just says, “Of course. I already knew he was an asshole. I just wanted to make sure you’re… okay.”
The bathroom feels crowded and hot suddenly, and my skin itches, but I manage to say, “Thank you.” It hasn’t really sunk in, to be honest. Me and Alex aren’t together.
I’m not even sure I believe it.
Kylie nods. “Wanna meet me at Oasis after your class? My first one isn’t until ten.”
“I have ethics after philosophy, but I’m free for lunch?” I don’t want to meet anyone for lunch, truth be told, but it might be nice to not eat alone today. Me and Alex usually ate together.
God, there’s a lump in my throat when I think about not eating with him, but I shove it down deep. We aren’t over yet.
I know we’re not.
Kylie smiles at me in the mirror and then, thankfully, walks out of my bathroom.
As soon as she does, I shut the door and lock it, exhaling with relief.
I squat down, open up the cabinet under my sink and reach past the self-tanner, Q-tips, and box of razor blades for the blue tampon box at the back. I dig my hand around in it and my fingers curl around a little baggie.
Score.
I keep some of my stash in shoe boxes in my closet, but these are the magic pills. I take one of the red and blue capsules out of the bag and dry swallow it down. This is the closest thing I’ve ever taken to having a real personality. It helps me fake that shit. I try not to take many of them because they’re just so damn good, and expensive as hell.
I went a little overboard on Saturday with all the drugs, but I’m better now. I just need this one. I’m fine.
I close the baggie, toss it back into the tampon box and shut the cabinet, standing to my feet and smiling at myself in the mirror.
See? I am not the same person that went into rehab. I’m better. I think of my future self.
pre-rehab Zara would never think of leaving future Zara a baggie to take the edge off.
And future self has arrived, ready to take on the first day back to classes after that little…mess up. Fully prepared to look everyone in the eye who saw Alex Cardi flash my tits at a party that ended with a dead girl in the pool.
5
Zara
I’m headed to Kivett, walking across the quad, my head held high and a smile on my face from the Vyvanse. I’ve got my fingers clenched around my green backpack. The sun is out. The fountain in the center of the quad is clear and sparkling, and while there are papers with Rihanna’s face on them and the date and time of her candlelit vigil taped to the light poles around Caven’s well-manicured campus, I’m feeling good.
No one has said shit to my face about the video, and most people seem too caught up in their own lives to give a damn about me anyway. The joys of college.
I’m about to turn off the brick walkway to head up the steep stairs to Kivett Hall when someone calls my name at my back.
I straighten my spine, bite back my smile.
I know that voice so well.
Tightening my fingers on my backpack straps, I turn around.
Alex is staring right at me, his brow furrowed, hands in the pockets of his grey pants. The sun is behind hi
m, catching the lighter brown shades of his hair. But I’m standing in his shadow, and I can see the worry in his eyes.
Behind him, Eli Addison is looking at me with a strange expression on his face. Like we share a secret, the way his eyes are narrowed in on mine, but there’s a slight curve to his lips. Almost as if he’s smirking at me.
I know they go to the gym together in the mornings, and they’re both business majors and have a class together, which is why he’s here, I guess.
Alex steps closer to me, blocking my view of Eli.
I turn my gaze back to him, smiling. “Hi, baby.”
He swallows and looks down at his shoes. “You haven’t answered any of my texts, Za.”
I step even closer, until there’s little distance between us and I can smell him. He smells like fall. It’s my favorite season. “Sorry,” I tell him, trying to mean it. But since I’ve been sleeping hard the past few days, I’m not all that sorry. “I was just, you know, trying to process everything.”
“There’s a body in the pool, baby girl.” Those words echo in my head, and I’m glad I can’t see Eli right now.
Alex nods once, like he understands. His brow is still furrowed, but he finally looks back up to meet my eye. “I was worried about you.”
I put my hand on his arm, beneath his white t-shirt and he seems to relax a little. “How are you?”
He chews the inside of his mouth a second before he says, “It’s weird. But I’m fine.” He shakes his head, and then his hand snakes around my waist, jerking me toward his warm body. He leans down close to me, his fingers splayed against my shirt. “Hey, I just—I’m sorry about this past weekend. About the flashing, and…” He shakes his head and takes another deep breath. “That wasn’t cool.”
I put my hand against his chest, feeling warmth spreading in my own with his words. “I’m sorry too, Alex.”
I watch his throat bob as he swallows and then he straightens, letting his arm fall from my waist. I drop my hand, missing his warmth already. I want to ask him so many things. I want to ask if we’re okay. If he really is done with me. If we took all of this too far.
But he takes a step back and I see Eli again. Alex turns to glare at him, and Eli steps forward, his dark green eyes locked on mine. He’s got a messenger bag over his shoulder, a blue Caven Wrestling hoodie beneath it.
“We okay?” he asks me in that lilting, quiet voice. I’m not so sure the question is sincere. His lips kind of turn up into a smile and Alex is still glaring at him. I assume Alex put him up to this.
My vagina kind of hurts when I think of Eli curling his fingers up when Alex pulled me off of them.
I bite my tongue, holding back my wince. “Yeah, it’s fine,” I tell Eli.
His eyes rake up and down my body and I think about him standing in front of me over the weekend. Think about his hands around that guy’s throat.
I take a step back, looking at Alex again. “Want to meet later?”
Alex runs his hand through his hair, and it’s a sexy, disheveled mess like always. “I have practice later, and a marketing paper due tomorrow.” He shrugs, dropping his hand. “Tomorrow?”
My chest deflates at that. I guess he hasn’t really forgiven me. I can’t blame him. Don’t leave me.
I don’t say that. I don’t beg.
“Right. Tomorrow.” I turn on my heel and head up the steps to Kivett.
6
Zara
Thursday morning before my abnormal psych class, and Mom is on one again. I’m meeting Alex for lunch today and I do not want to deal with her shit. She’s berating me for not picking up the phone and calling her all week.
“I’m serious, Zara, if you’re using again—”
“I’m not, Mom, damn.” I shift the phone to my other ear, propping it up with my shoulder while I reach for the baggie in my shoebox at the back of my closet. “Just relax. I’ll be home for the brunch thing. One week, right? Sunday?” I pull the white pill out of the bag, swallow it dry while my mom sighs heavily on the other end of the phone. I crinkle the baggie in my hand and stand to my feet, my head spinning a little as I do.
I close my eyes for a second, letting my blood pressure adjust.
“Yes, not this Sunday but the next. And it’s not a brunch thing, Zara. It’s Cory’s first introduction to some of the family and our engagement party, and I want it to go well.”
I roll my eyes, the slight bitterness of the drug lingering on my tongue as I walk out of the closet heading toward the bathroom. I toss the baggie in the trash while Mom rants and raves about this very important party.
I don’t need to remind Mom this is her fourth fucking engagement party for her fourth fucking husband. Probably should just stop having those parties altogether.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there. I’m sure Cory will do great. Such a charmer, that guy.”
I’ve never heard Cory string together more than three words at a time.
My mom exhales loudly, and I yank the phone away from my ear to protect myself from the staticky sound. She’s saying something but I’m rubbing eyeliner from beneath my eyes in the mirror, leaving a trail of black shadows under the red rim of my lower lash line, barely listening.
I mean, do I look like a druggie?
I guess. But I also look like another exhausted college kid, and I’m starting to think both of those people look the same.
Mom is yammering away about something in my ear, but I’m not paying attention. I do not give a fuck about this party. I only answered her call because I wanted to test the waters, make sure she hadn’t seen the video of my tits.
Apparently not, because all she can think about is my soon-to-be new stepdad, Cory.
So sweet.
“Yeah, great, Mom. Gotta go. Love you.” I end the call, slip my phone into my back pocket.
I grip the edge of the porcelain sink, lean in closer.
My blue-green eyes are red, my pupils little more than pinpricks which means I probably should cut back on the Addie, but too late for that now.
Whatever.
I needed to be at my peppiest to deal with Alex today. And as if right on cue, my phone buzzes in my back pocket in the vibration pattern I assigned to him.
My heart thumps in my chest as I pull it out and read his text.
Alex: Meet me at eleven, he confirms. I miss you.
I smile to myself. I knew he’d come back.
7
Eli
I skipped classes Monday. Considering I was dealing with the cops and answering questions about just how involved Rihanna and I were all day Sunday, it seemed like the right thing to do.
But I’ve gone the past three days. Today is Friday and Fridays I don’t have class, but I do have wrestling practice. And before that, I have to deal with something else.
My phone vibrates in my pocket as I head to the 370Z, sliding in the driver’s side.
I start the car, pull out my phone and check my messages. There’s a fuck load, because everyone wants to make sure I’m okay, since Zara and I found Rihanna’s body in the pool. I personally want everyone to fuck off, but that’s not really how society works. I respond to a few of my teammates. Coach let me skip wrestling practice all week, but I’m going back this afternoon, deal with all the questions that’ll no doubt come my way.
When I’m done answering those messages, I open up a new screen.
To Zara.
Aside from seeing her Wednesday with Alex, we haven’t spoken since Sunday morning, when I was calling 911 as she stared out at Rihanna’s body, which had already sunk to the bottom of the pool.
It was kind of eerie, Rihanna’s brown hair fanned out around her face, limbs loose by her sides.
Zara was silent. I’d put my hand over her mouth thinking she was going to scream, and maybe she was, but she hadn’t. She’d just jumped in my arms, clinging to me.
Me: You wanna talk?
Finding a dead body in a pool at your ex’s house can’t be fun. She looked paler tha
n usual when I saw her Wednesday, and her and Alex aren’t back together yet.
Someone should check on her.
I shoot off the text, turn up the stereo in my car. Let Me Down by Lil Blanket and that psychopath Landon Tewers. I stare at my phone, waiting for those three little dots. We’ve never texted each other. I have her number because since she’s been dating my roommate, that shit just kind of happens, and I assume she has mine.
But maybe she doesn’t.
Maybe that little secret of hers is one I should just stuff down deep and stop thinking about. Maybe this isn’t going to work how I thought it might. Truth be told, I thought Cardi would be done with her by now.
Or I thought she’d be done with him.
I know he doesn’t know her secret. If he did, he’d lose his shit.
And I know too, that they’re probably still banging. They didn’t see me, but I saw them in the cafeteria together yesterday at lunch.
She was picking at a salad.
He had his elbows on the table, staring at her and she was shaking her head as she stared at the food she wouldn’t eat.
She never eats much.
I don’t know if they made up. He hasn’t talked about it except to tell me they aren’t together again. He hasn’t been around much either. I know he’s got practice, and he’s probably been fucking her, or someone else, but I don’t really care if he’s fucking her.
In fact, thinking about it gets my dick hard. I’ve had to hear it all summer. I’m used to it now.
My phone vibrates, and I see she’s texted me back.
Zara: Is something wrong?
I roll my eyes. Me: Just thought you might be a little spooked.
She doesn’t take long to reply.
Zara: You need a shoulder to cry on, Eli? Find someone else.
But she put a little laughing emoji at the end to help soften the blow. I can’t help smiling to myself. She’s such a bitch.
Me: I’m picking up someone from your apartment complex for practice. I’ll come by for a sec.
It’s bullshit of course, but I needed to give her something that makes sense.