TinsTinsTinsley.
Her Instagram page popped open, and I narrowed my eyes when I realized she'd set it to private. Fuck. How would I look at her now? Though, after everything that happened, I should have expected it. I sent the follow request before I could change my mind, my heart hammering in my chest. I stared at the screen, willing her to accept, and it only took a few minutes before she did. Now I had full access to her profile, and I felt like I'd betrayed my family in the worst possible way as I scrolled through her photos.
Her feed showed two lives: one before, one after.
Before, her pictures were perfectly edited, her glossy golden hair shining from every one of them just like her pearly white grin. But the last few months, she'd only posted three photos. And those three now held my attention.
One of them of Tinsley lying on her back, her hair fanned out on the pillow behind her, purple and slightly wavy. The pic cut off beneath her lashes, her expression vulnerable, soft. I couldn't bear to look into those eyes. I double tapped the photo, not letting myself think about the implications of my actions.
The next was a picture of her and her mom. My chest constricted at the sight, but I couldn't tear my gaze away. They were similar, her Mom an older version of the Tinsley before. They smiled at one another, standing in front of a brick house. The caption had a simple black heart and commenting was disabled on the image.
The last and newest, was a shot of her cherry-checkered-print Vans on the lawn outside Wildwood, with the school insignia on a marble plaque next to her feet. The caption read “fresh start, old heart.” It made me smile.
There was a knock on my door, and I closed my laptop quickly before calling out, "Come in."
Mom opened the door, stepping inside. Her vulnerability was plainly visible in the sunlight that poured in through the window. She stood thinner than I'd ever seen her. Worry snaked its way into my mind, reminding me I had other priorities, and I shouldn't give a damn about Tinsley, anyway. She was bad fucking news. Guilt got me off the bed, offering my mom a hand.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes,” she said, waving me away. “I was wondering how school was. You know, with the...new people.”
“Oh.” I managed, looking anywhere but at her. “Yeah, it was fine. Nothing special happened.”
“Did you speak to her?”
The question took me by surprise, and I looked at my mother for a few moments before swallowing the lump in my throat and nodding. “I did, yeah.”
“Is she...” Mom’s eyes danced over my features. She was visibly nervous. “Is she doing okay?”
“As well as she can be expected,” I explained. “Why, Mom?”
“I just...” She shrugged. “I guess I just wanted to know if I was the only one whose life got ruined by what happened.”
“Oh.” I shifted my weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Mom, I don’t think everything’s ruined. You still have India and me. And now, you have the opportunity for a fresh start."
She gave me a long look and whispered, "I don't want a fresh start. I want my old life back." The words triggered something within her, and she started to sob. Not in the way she had been around other people—subdued and quiet. No, these were full, body-wracking sobs that tore my heart apart and made me feel even worse about what I'd done moments prior.
"Mom, I'm here for you," I managed.
"I know," she sniffled. "It's just...a lot. Especially since we're moving."
"We don't have to move," I reminded her gently. "We could stay here; you know that. We haven’t told anyone we’re leaving yet. There’s still time to change your mind."
"I can't," she shook her head vehemently. "After everything that's happened, I can’t stay in this house."
It made my heart and my head hurt. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay at Wildwood. But I didn't have an answer to offer her this time, at least not one that wouldn’t make me seem like a selfish bastard. After all, she was right—this house was home to so many memories that felt so wrong, so fake now.
"I'm sorry I bothered you," Mom backtracked. "I shouldn't involve you in all this horrible, stupid drama, but...I just had no one else to turn to. And the fact that Tinsley is just moving on like nothing happened, hurts."
"Mom," I managed. "She's having a hard time." I didn't add that I made sure it was even harder than it should be. I didn't need to.
She gave me a grateful smile, sending a pang of guilt to my heart. "Good," she said, turning around and leaving the room.
Tempted to pick up my phone again, I somehow forced myself to leave it on the bed as I settled at my desk to start on my homework. But Tinsley wasn't far from my thoughts. In fact, she'd taken up permanent residence in my mind, where one question remained unanswered.
Would I ever be able to forgive her?
Chapter Three
Tinsley
The night after my first school day, my mom came home late. I'd spent hours wasting time, forgetting all about homework, and instead, stressed about the people I'd met and how they'd treated me. My childish crush on Crispin Dalton was officially over. I couldn’t crush on a guy who was determined to make my time at Wildwood a living hell. No, thanks.
But my stupid mind wouldn't leave it alone. I mulled over every detail of our conversation. The way he'd treated me, pulling me down and laughing in my face. He had no compassion. He was nothing like the boy I used to know, the boy whom I'd scribbled my number to on a paper napkin. He used to be kind, sweet, and thoughtful. And it was my fault he wasn't any of those things, anymore. Great freaking job, Tins.
By the time I heard the front door open, I was a mess. I'd spent hours worrying about the impression I'd left at Wildwood and the people who had all whispered behind my back. I was grateful my mom was back—at least it was a temporary distraction from the negative thoughts churning in my brain.
I walked down the stairs in time to see Mom leaning against the front door, heaving a long, exhausted sigh. For a few moments, I remained hidden in the shadows, watching her in silence. A sob tore its way from her lips, tugging at my heartstrings. I felt for her. I really did.
My mom and I had always had a good relationship. We'd been close since my dad left when I was eight. She was an amazing single parent, always putting my needs before hers and pushing me to do more. Push harder, work more. I was a better person because of her, which was what I told everyone who asked me if I hated her after everything that had happened.
My answer was always the same—I couldn’t hate the person who'd given me everything. Mom and I were a team. We worked because we stuck together. And that wasn't going to change because of one… hiccup.
"Mom?" I called out, and she quickly straightened her back, wiping her eyes before looking up the stairs to where I stood.
"Hi, darling," she said brightly. "Good first day?"
I nodded, coming down the stairs. She pulled me in for a quick hug and motioned for me to follow her. I grabbed one of the brown paper bags of groceries and set it down on the marble countertop.
"Tell me all about it," she said, beaming as we started to unpack the food. "Did you like the school? How were the classes? Were the students nice?"
"It was great." I realized with it was one of many lies I'd told my mom in the last few months. I never used to lie to her, but now it seemed that I didn't really have a choice. I didn't want to upset her. "Estella is so happy I'm going to Wildwood," I went on. "We had lunch together."
"How nice." Mom smiled, though it didn't escape me that it was a tad strained. Did she know I was lying through my teeth? "And what about the other students? Met any new friends?"
I told her about Inca and Andromeda, mentioned the cheerleaders, but skipped out on all the embarrassing details. I didn't want her to worry, and if I told her the truth about how Crispin had treated me, she'd freak the hell out.
Mom was like a lioness—defending everyone she cared about to the point of being vicious. It was the last thing I needed
, though. I decided to deal with the situation at school by myself.
"I thought we'd have chicken with leeks and mushrooms tonight." She pulled out the ingredients and turned to me. "Are you hungry?"
"Yeah."
We started to make dinner together, and Mom put on some music. These were some of my favorite moments, just being with her and spending quality time together. When we had fun like this, I could almost manage to forget about what had happened months prior.
Ten minutes later, we sat down at the dining room table. Mom grabbed a glass of Pinot Grigio, and I got a Diet Cherry Coke.
"How was your day?" I finally asked her, bracing myself for what she said.
"Good," she replied without missing a beat. "Really good, darling." But the little changes in her demeanor didn't escape me: the way her shoulders tensed, the way her bottom lip trembled ever so lightly.
I may have freaked out at the beginning, but now, months later, she was the one close to a breakdown. The aftermath was arguably worse than the scandal itself, and it ate my mom up inside.
She'd worked as a party planner when I was younger, but once I got started with The Life and Times of Devin Mooney, she became my full time “momager.” I loved working with her because she always had my best interest at heart. But since the show had ended, my mom hadn’t been able to get another job. The vicious rumors hadn’t helped. I watched her enthusiasm fade from day to day, her face more and more gaunt as she kept worrying and losing weight. I didn't know how to help.
When I'd spoken about it with Estella, she told me it was Mom's fault we were in this situation, and she should fix things on her own. Sometimes she was so cruel. But I couldn't look at everything as black and white. My mom had made mistakes—plenty of them—but that didn't change the fact that she was inherently a good person.
"Mom," I said gently, reaching out for her hand. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"
"Sure," she replied brightly. "But I'm okay, darling. Thank you for checking, though." Just like that, the subject was closed, and she downed her glass of wine before carrying it over to the sink. She wasn't going to open up, at least not tonight.
Mom always closed up when this came up. And I knew she didn't want to overwhelm me with her problems, but sometimes, I really wished she trusted me more, that she'd confide in me and let me help with the issues we both faced.
Apparently, it was too soon for that.
I stirred my Coke with a metal straw, chewing my bottom lip while she addressed the chicken in the oven.
"About thirty minutes to go," she told me.
"Okay," I said, checking my phone.
A follow request on Instagram popped up, sending my heart into palpitations. CrispySnacc wants to follow you. Accept?
I swallowed hard, then before I could change my mind, accepted his request. I set my phone down just as Mom came back into the dining room.
"I've been talking to Metro Channel about a new show," she said with a soft smile. "Now, it's not your usual thing, but I thought you might be interested."
"Mom, I—"
"Just hear me out," she said. "I think it would help to show people you're still working hard and that your acting is still just as good."
"What's the show?" I asked hesitantly.
"It's a reality TV show," she reluctantly admitted. "They would follow you around—including around Wildwood—for a few months."
"Mom, no." I shook my head. "We agreed no reality shows, remember?"
"Yeah," she muttered, sitting down. For just a second, she let me see her vulnerable side. "Darling, I don't know how else to fix this. I don't know how to make people see that you did nothing wrong."
"Mom..."
"No." She shook her head. "I mean it, Tinsley. You're in this mess because I got you into it, and now I want to help you get out of it. Save your reputation. I need… I need to feel like I’m doing something."
"Mom, I get that, but a reality TV show isn't going to help," I said gently. "You know that, right?"
"I guess. I just... I don't know what else to do." She seemed so small and helpless.
I reached out, putting my palm over her hand but struggled with words. There was nothing to say to right the wrongs of what had happened. Mom didn't have a job now and hadn't for four months, which meant we were living off my savings. I had a large trust fund Mom oversaw. Still, I recognized how the guilt about using that money messed her up, and I wanted to help her see that she didn't need to feel that way. After all, I never would have gotten the Devin Mooney job if she hadn't worked so hard.
"I don't know if you've thought about this," I started carefully. "But what about party planning?" I quickly continued after she gave me a blank stare. "You used to love that job when I was younger, remember? We had so much fun planning weddings, bar mitzvahs, Quinceañeras..."
"That was fun.”
"Why don't you try doing it again?" I suggested. "I know some of your former clients have been pestering you to get back to it."
"Not for the past few months," she muttered, making me regret my words.
"Well, why don't we plan an event together?" I suggested.
"We could," she said, and when she looked up, her eyes had more spark in them than they had for the past four months. "What did you have in mind?"
"My birthday is coming up. Finally, eighteen! You know, that's legal drinking age in Europe." I winked.
She laughed, shaking her head and saying, "If you're trying to trick me into letting you drink at the party, it's not going to work."
I giggled, saying, "Honestly, it would be so much fun to plan the party with you. It doesn't have to be huge. Just something to get your name out there."
"I would love that," she replied, putting a smile on my face. "Let's do it."
Progress!
The alarm blasting in my ear was way too loud. I groaned, turning to my side and fumbling with my phone until I shut it off. Somehow, I managed to drag myself out of bed, balking at my reflection in the mirror.
After washing my hair and taking a long shower, I felt a bit less zombie-like. Back to the land of the living. I scrolled through my phone while I brushed my teeth, tentatively placing my finger over the Instagram button not sure I was brave enough to check.
I clicked on it. My notifications popped up, and I scrolled through a few pages of likes before I found it. A single heart on one of my images, the one where I was lying on the bed with my hair fanned out. CrispySnacc liked your picture. I quickly put my phone down when I heard Mom call out from downstairs.
"Bye!" I replied with a mouthful of toothpaste, hearing the door lock behind her.
Mom had taken her new task seriously and had already made some plans for my eighteenth. Today, she was going to find a caterer. Well, at least I’d managed to distract her. Maybe now she won’t notice how fucked up things really were at Wildwood.
It took me another twenty minutes to get ready, and I raced outside when I heard a car honk in front of the house. Andromeda and I had texted all evening the previous day, and she offered to pick me up for school. She hadn’t mentioned what had happened in the cafeteria once, and I was grateful, albeit ashamed about what I’d done.
Now, as I locked the door, I saw her behind the wheel of a beaten-up old Camaro.
"Get in, loser," she called out. She looked as stunning as ever, with little daisies painted over her cheeks, her freckles serving as the center of the flowers.
"You look pretty," I told her.
"You too.”
She was being so nice to me. I hoped she wasn’t trying to use me for something. I gave her a sideways glance, wondering if she'd ever try to benefit from my story. But Andromeda didn't seem like the type. She blasted some music on her ancient radio and started driving toward the school, occasionally shooting me meaningful looks.
"What?" I finally laughed.
"You." She shrugged. "You and that Dalton boy. I heard rumors he’s been messing with you. Seriously, guys think we’
re still in first grade and pulling our hair will get our attention.”
"C-Crispin?" I managed to get out, feeling myself flush deeply. "No, I... I mean... I..."
"You can tell me the truth. I'm not going to judge."
"Okay. Well, I... For a while, I thought something was going to happen, but it never did, so..."
"So, you gave up on it?" she asked, giving me a long sideways glance.
"Kinda.”
"But you regret it.”
"Kinda.”
"And now you’re stuck with feelings for a guy you shouldn’t like," Andromeda finished for me. "And wishing he didn't treat you the way he does. Or at least that you wouldn’t feel the way you do."
“Everything between us is ruined. You don’t just come back from this kind of fuck up.”
"Maybe not. But don’t write him off just yet,” she said with a grin. "You'll be seeing him every day at school now, right? Maybe you can try to hang out with him a bit more; see how things go."
"I don't think that's a good idea." I winced. "I mean, with everything that's happened… I should probably stay as far away as possible from Crispin Dalton."
"But you don't want to," Andromeda grinned, and I found myself blushing yet again.
I shook my head, softly saying, "I guess I don't."
After a meaningful look from her, I remembered our conversation in the cafeteria from the previous day.
"Hey," I spoke up again. "Crispin actually invited us—well, Estella and me—to a party at his place. I was wondering if you'd want to come?"
"A party?" She gave me a long look. "I'd have to convince my parents. And Tinsley, you're super, super sweet to think of me, but…" She left the sentence unfinished.
So I asked, "What? You don't want to go?"
"I don't think I'd really fit in," she finally admitted. "It would be fun and exciting, and we'd have a blast, but... I get the impression Estella doesn't like me very much. We had some classes together last year, and she just completely ignored me. I don’t think we’ve ever even spoken. Not since grade school.”
Boys That Tease: A Bully Romance (Lords Of Wildwood Book 1) Page 5