“Let me help you clean out your drawer before you go,” she says angrily.
I choke on a laugh as items of clothing come sailing out the second-floor window onto the lawn. A Celtics hoodie. Some T-shirts. A pair of boxers float down.
“You don’t deserve a drawer in my house! You don’t deserve anything anymore. I’m done with this. Take all your stuff and get out of my life.”
Once again I think it’s all over.
But then Nico, stupid stupid Nico, utters the dumbest shit he could’ve ever uttered. “Don’t you dare throw my PlayStation out the window, Demi!”
If that ain’t a challenge.
She whirls around again, and this time she doesn’t come back.
Huh. Okay. Maybe she decided to spare the PlayStation. Nico seems to think so, because his entire body relaxes. He glumly walks forward and begins picking up the clothes on the lawn.
He still hasn’t noticed me, and I’m not about to make my presence known. It’d be like approaching a lion with a thorn in its paw.
Just when I decide all is well—when the night is quiet and Nico’s scattered items have been collected—the front door of the sorority house flies open and Demi emerges. Holding a tangle of cables, controllers, and a slender black PlayStation.
Nico’s head snaps up. “Thank you!” Looking relieved, he holds out his hands as if he truly believes he’s getting the game console back unscathed.
“Thank you? No, thank you,” Demi shoots back. She’s spitting fire again. “Thank you for wasting eight years of my life.” She hurls one controller to the ground. “Thank you for lying to my face.” The second controller smashes on the concrete walkway. “Thank you for disrespecting me.”
When she reaches the curb, the only item she’s left holding is the PlayStation.
I hold my breath. The other components could easily be replaced. This console itself can’t.
“I never want to see you again. You’ve ruined this. You ruined our friendship, you ruined our relationship, you ruined everything.”
Crash!
The PlayStation collides with the sidewalk, breaking into several pieces.
Nico has the nerve to say, “I can’t believe you did that!” Which prompts Demi to take a swing at him, and that’s when I jump away from the hedge.
She manages to get one sharp blow in before I haul her away from him, trying to corral her like a wild horse.
She might not be a teammate, but I think this still qualifies for paragraph four, line eight of the captain’s log: Don’t let your teammates commit murder.
“Hey, hey, stop,” I order.
“Hunter? What are you doing here?” She blinks a few times before her eyes go feral again. “Let me go. He deserves an ass kicking!”
“Yes, he does,” I agree, and Nico scowls at me. “But karma will do that job for you, trust me.”
“Hunter, let me go!” Now she’s grunting, gritting her teeth, attempting to punch her way out of my grip. So I fling her over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “Hunter!” she screeches in outrage. “Put me down!”
“No. I’m not watching you get arrested for assault tonight, okay?” I kick away a piece of Nico’s PlayStation, while trying to contain a struggling Demi. “You’re already guilty of property damage.”
“I don’t care!” she says stubbornly. “Now I want to do bodily damage.”
“I know you do, Semi, but trust me, he ain’t worth it.”
But the riled-up woman in my arms is still flapping her arms like a trapped bird trying to get free. I spare a dark look at Nico before marching off toward my Land Rover. Only when I reach the vehicle do I set Demi down. The moment her socked feet meet the sidewalk, her steely demeanor seems to crumble. Suddenly she turns into a vulnerable girl, tears welling in her eyes.
“He humiliated me,” she whispers.
“I know, babe. C’mere.” I open my arms, but she ducks her head shamefully.
“No. I don’t want a hug,” she mumbles.
“Fine, then get in the car.”
“Why?”
“You’re coming over to my place and we’re getting drunk. You could use the distraction.”
Demi hesitates. She glances in the vicinity of the Theta house, where Nico is slowly walking toward his pick-up truck. Then she tears her gaze away and opens the passenger’s door of my Rover.
We’re on the road a few seconds later. Demi doesn’t say a single word. She keeps her gaze straight ahead.
“I’m so sorry,” I say gruffly.
She finally speaks, her voice trembling with each word. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. You were right—about everything. And I snapped at you and called you a fuckboy.” She sniffles. “I feel horrible about that. Please tell me you accept my apology.”
“Of course I do. It’s all good with us, Demi. I promise.”
She still refuses to look at me. “He was the fuckboy. He cheated on me. More than once, with more than one person.”
“Yeah, I gathered.”
I turn onto the main road that leads to town. It’s a straight ten-minute drive, and then I’m pulling up into the driveway behind Summer’s silver Audi. The lights are still on in the living room.
“Come on, you look like you need that drink.”
Fat teardrops slip out the corners of her eyes. She blinks them back fast. “Okay.”
We walk inside. Demi reaches down as if to remove her shoes before realizing she’s not wearing any. Pink and gray striped socks cover her small feet. She stares at them for a moment as if questioning whether they even belong to her.
“Yo, Hunter? That you?” Hollis calls from the living room.
“Yeah,” I call back.
“Good timing—we’re about to start a new game.”
I guess he and Rupi ironed out their insane differences. “I brought a friend with me,” I answer as I unlace my boots.
“Oooh,” teases Brenna. “Is it a sexy friend?”
I examine Demi. All I see are quivering lips, smudges of mascara under red-rimmed eyes, and a shell-shocked expression.
“Fuck off,” she says ruefully.
I snicker. “Sorry, but sexy isn’t on your side right now.”
When we enter the living room, the girls take one look at my guest and jump to their feet. “Are you okay?” Summer blurts out.
Brenna glares at me, then turns to Demi. “What did he do to you?”
“Oh, screw off, Bee.”
Demi laughs through her tears. “Be nice to him. He just stopped me from physically assaulting my cheating boyf—ex-boyfriend,” she corrects.
“Ugh! Cheaters are the worst kind of dirt bags,” Summer declares.
“The worst,” Hollis agrees.
“You poor thing,” Rupi clucks, tugging Demi toward the couch.
In the blink of an eye, she’s surrounded by the girls, who immediately start pressing for details.
“If you guys don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about it,” Demi admits. She gulps a few times, then gives a half-hearted smile and points to the board game on the coffee table. “What are we playing?”
18
Demi
“I’ve barely seen you these past couple weeks.” Disappointment and compassion war in TJ’s eyes, but after a beat he reaches across the table and gives my hand a squeeze, showing that his compassion won out. Which is a relief, because I’m simply not equipped to reassure him right now. My mental health comes first, and I’ve been AWOL for reasons that have nothing to do with him or our friendship.
“You didn’t miss much. I haven’t been great company.” I pick at the edge of my banana muffin.
“You’re always great company,” TJ says with a smile.
“That’s sweet of you to say.”
“It’s the truth. How are you doing?”
“Better. I mean, my boyfriend cheated on me, so I’m not throwing any parades right now, but I’m also not tempted to commit violence and blow up his apartment.” Which, considering my beh
avior following Corinne’s housewarming, is certainly progress.
I honestly think I blacked out that night. I remember everything I did, but the memories feel removed and are filtered through a red haze. Throwing Nico’s clothes out the window, smashing his PlayStation, punching him in the face. The clearest of the memories are the ones involving Hunter and his roommates. That silly board game we played had succeeded in calming me down, and therefore I’m forever indebted to Zombies!™
“Have you spoken to him?” TJ asks. “Or do you still have his number blocked?”
“Still blocked.” I had no choice but to do it. Nico was calling and texting so often it was becoming intolerable. “But he did show up at the house last week,” I admit.
TJ frowns deeply. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“There was nothing to tell. He knocked on the door, and Josie and the others threatened to castrate him if he came by again.”
“Good. And don’t forget, my offer still stands—I’ll beat him up for you if you want.”
I give a dry smile. “He’s not worth it. Besides, I don’t want you getting hurt.” TJ isn’t scrawny, but he’s five-eight with a lanky build. Nico would murder him in a fight.
His hand tightens over mine.
“I didn’t mean it in a you’re-a-wimp sense,” I backpedal. “I know you’re not. I just mean he’s not worth the effort. Besides, you’d have to get in line. Pax is already doing extra arm days at the gym to bulk up, so that he can, and I quote, ‘fuck him up and not in the good way.’” We both snicker. “And Darius isn’t speaking to him at all.”
“Wow. Really?”
“Yep. Say what you will about D, but you know how he feels about monogamy.” Darius is also very religious, so he doesn’t condone anything that treads the line of immorality. “Oh, and we can’t forget about Hunter. He would love to knock Nico around.”
Speaking of Hunter, my phone buzzes a minute later with a text from him. I click on it to find a picture of an egg in a tiny hammock. A second message simply says: @PabloEggscobar
Oh my God.
Pablo has his own Instagram account now.
TJ leans in curiously. “What’s that pic of?”
“They have a pet egg.” I put the phone down, shaking my head.
“What? Who?” TJ sounds confused.
“The hockey team. Their mascot is a hard-boiled egg that they all take turns caring for. I think it’s some sort of teambuilding exercise? Hunter wasn’t very articulate about it.”
“Won’t it go rotten and start stinking?”
“Already has. These days it’s wrapped up in cellophane and kept in the fridge overnight, but the plastic wrap hasn’t suppressed the smell completely. Hunter had the egg on him last week and I kept catching whiffs of sulfur.”
“That is so weird. I’ll never understand jocks.”
“Honestly, I don’t think it’s an across-the-board jock thing. I think it’s a Briar hockey player thing. They’re all nuts, Hunter included.”
“Then why do you keep texting with him?” TJ asks lightly.
“Because we’re friends.” I shrug. “My friends are allowed to be nuts.”
And Hunter, for all his strange habits, has been an amazing friend to me since my relationship was blown to smithereens. Also, his roommates are my new favorite people. Brenna is a total smartass and I love her. Summer and I don’t have much in common, but she makes me laugh. And Rupi is…Rupi. Her relationship with Hunter’s friend Hollis fascinates me. I truly can’t tell if they’re madly in love or hate each other’s guts. Maybe a mixture of both? Either way, they’re highly entertaining.
I’m learning that keeping busy is the best remedy for a bad break-up. This means concentrating on midterms, math quizzes, chem labs, psych readings, anything that occupies my brain. And when my brain gets tired, I distract myself with friends. Drinks with Pippa, movie nights with my sorority sisters, hangouts at Hunter’s house. So far, it’s helping.
“When does your bus leave today?” TJ asks over the rim of his cup. A teabag string hangs over the edge. He’s not a coffee drinker, so it’s herbal teas for him.
“Seven-thirty.” I groan. “Ugh, I’m not looking forward to Thanksgiving. My parents are going to have simultaneous heart attacks when I tell them about Nico.”
“Wait, you still haven’t told them you guys broke up?”
“Nope. It’ll be a Thanksgiving surprise.”
“That sucks. They really like him, eh?”
“Like him? That’s like saying frat boys like kegs. They’re obsessed with him, view him as a son-in-law. They’re going to be devasta—” I stop midsentence when a familiar person enters the Coffee Hut.
Corinne.
My spine snaps into a straight, inflexible line. Corinne tried calling several times after her housewarming. When I ignored her calls, she sent a text asking if we could talk. I sent one back saying that when I’m ready to talk, I’ll reach out myself.
Well, it’s been two weeks and I’m nowhere near ready.
She freezes like a deer in the headlights when she notices me. Then she recovers her composure and—dammit, she’s walking toward us.
“Hide me,” I plead at TJ, but it’s too late. Corinne reaches our little table, a nervous smile on her face.
“Hi,” she says softly.
“Hi.” My voice is tight.
“I know you said we’d talk when you’re ready, but…well, the holidays are coming up, and then we’ll be back and it’s final exams, and then spring break…” She shrugs wryly. “Maybe we should just clear the air right now?” She lets the request hang in the uncomfortable air between us.
TJ gives me a questioning look, as if to say, should I step in?
I respond with a slight shake of the head. “Fine,” I tell Corinne. To TJ, I say, “Do you mind? You’re supposed to go meet your roommate soon, anyway. Right?”
He nods. “Yeah, it’s no problem.” He eyes Corinne warily as he stands up.
She goes to grab a coffee, her black curls cascading down her back. She’s wearing a puffy navy-blue winter coat, which she takes off as she gets in line.
“I really don’t want to do this,” I tell TJ.
“I know, but you can handle it.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“You can handle anything,” TJ promises. “You’re fearless. But if you truly need an out, text me SOS and I’ll ditch Ryan and come right back.”
“You da best.”
He touches my shoulder, his palm lingering before he withdraws it. A moment later, the bell over the door jingles as he exits the coffeehouse.
When Corinne returns, we endure another awkward silence. I stare at her, because I’m not going to be the first person to speak.
“I’m so sorry,” is her opening line.
How original. “Yes, you already told me that.”
“I know, and I’m just going to keep saying it until maybe you’ll believe that I mean it.”
“Oh, I believe you mean it. But it’s easy to ask forgiveness. What shouldn’t have been easy for you was sleeping with your friend’s boyfriend.”
Shame colors her cheeks. She gulps, offering a quick nod. “I know. I made a mistake. And if you want to ask me any questions about it, I promise every word I say will be the truth.”
“Okay, I’ll bite.” My tone is more frigid than I intend it to be, but I can’t control it. “How many times did you sleep with him?”
“Once,” she says instantly. “It wasn’t long after the move. He came by one night to help me hang a shelf.”
I strain to recall when that could’ve been. Probably one of the nights Nico was working late. I wonder how many times he lied to me over the years. God. This entire conversation is so embarrassing.
“We had a beer, and you know I don’t handle alcohol very well—that’s not an excuse,” she hurries on. “I’m not blaming the alcohol, but I was buzzed. And he was, you know, he was Nico. He’s charming.”
“Yes, he is,” I say tersely. It’s the dimples. Those dimples never fail to disarm women.
Corinne stares at her hands, wrapped around her coffee cup. “He kissed me, and I knew kissing him back was a bad idea, but I wasn’t thinking clearly and then he said—” She stops.
“He said what?”
“He told me you guys were having problems but that you didn’t want anyone to know.”
My jaw drops.
“And he said…” She blushes. “He said your sex life was non-existent.”
“Non-existent?” I’m seething again. “We were having sex regularly.” I just didn’t realize he was also having sex with everyone else.
“I’m sorry. I really don’t want my excuse to be that I was a stupid girl, but I was. I was stupid and insecure, and I hadn’t had a boyfriend in so long and suddenly this charming, gorgeous guy was paying attention to me, flirting with me, telling me all these terrible things about you.”
“And you believed him?” I’m hurt by the notion.
“No,” Corinne admits. “I wanted to believe him, because then it’d give me justification to not feel bad. But I did feel bad. I felt awful—before it happened, during, and after. And then he actually tried to see me again, in secret. I felt sick and said no way in hell. I wanted to tell you the truth, but he said he’d deny it if I did, and paint me as a slut who tried to seduce him.”
I don’t even know what to believe anymore. In his subsequent texts after our showdown at my house, Nico spammed my phone with his explanations, his excuses. And that was precisely what he told me—that Corinne came on to him, and he was too drunk to fend off her wicked advances.
“I don’t know if this helps or not, but…” Corinne takes her phone out of her bag. “These are all the text exchanges I had with him.”
She slides the phone across the table and I reluctantly pick it up. The first thing I do is click on Nico’s contact page to ensure that his name is assigned to the right number. People are liars, and technology is easily, and frequently, manipulated these days. But it’s the right number.
I don’t want to do it, but I force myself to read the text thread. And there it is, in black and white. Or rather, gray and blue. My loving boyfriend, asking my friend when they were going to have sex again. Corinne’s not lying. The entire exchange is disgusting.
The Play: Briar U Page 16