Come home.
Now.
Anytime the woman uses separate messages to punctuate her statement, it is never a good sign.
Hopefully, she’s just pissed I broke curfew by never coming home last night, but I doubt I’m that lucky.
Either way, I’m in for a world of shit-talk and fury.
CHAPTER 34
UNSTEADY
PRESENT
The sky matchesmy mood the whole ride home, because storm clouds smother any trace of sunlight in a matter of minutes, the impending downpour quickly approaching. I feel sick just thinking about Wes. Last night, he admitted to not having the best of luck when it came to relationships. With his family’s connections, he inevitably attracted sycophants and social climbers, resulting in girlfriends who often took advantage of him. Yet, he also admitted he wasn’t really into hookups and flings, and after my little rendezvous with Jase at the country club, any enthusiasm I had for so much as flirting with a stranger shriveled and died. We had been on the same page, and I let him know what I wanted.
Something stable.
Wes wasn’t slutshaming me just now. As he said, he didn’t care about the racy nature of the other photos. His issue was with the last one. I gave him a whole song and dance about not wanting to play the field, only for him to see what looked like clear evidence of me hooking up with another guy mere hours after our date.
He now—quite reasonably—assumes I spent the whole evening blowing smoke up his ass, probably with the hopes ofusing him. The last girl had done so to get into her dream college, so I can only imagine what horrible scheme he thinks I must have been up to.
Even worse, it seems he’s blocked me. Not just my phone number, but on every social media app as well.
“I’m going to head back to my place and get my laptop,” Maggie says as she pulls up to the curb. Since her phone is still in Trent’s possession (or more likely discarded in the lake), she can’t log into her account to delete the pictures since it requires a two-step verification. The only other way is by email, which only her laptop is logged into right now.
Though, we both know the damage has been done. Screen captures have undoubtedly been taken and shared all over kingdom come. At this point, it’s just cleaning up the blood from the crime scene, but I thank her anyway, climbing out and making the daunting trek up to the front door.
There hadn’t been so much as a peep overhead during the drive, yet thunder rumbles in time to me reaching the porch. I try not to take it as an omen, but I know to brace for impact when I hear raised voices before even opening the door.
A sad, pathetic part of me hopes Vanessa and Blythe are arguing with my brother, just so I know I have an ally in this fight, but I don’t hear him or even my dad. I quickly realize my sister and stepmom aren’t bickering with one another. Nope, they’re just taking turns ranting about me.
The way I eat, sleep, dress, and breathe is evidently abhorrent to them, and just as Blythe bitches about myweightof all things, I open the front door wide enough to announce my presence. Stepping inside is about as pleasant as sticking my hand down inside a running garbage disposal when the two ranters immediately gang up on me like lions tag-teaming to take down a gazelle.
I try to explain myself, but they’re not interested in anything but tearing their teeth and claws into me. All I can do is wait for them to exhaust all the air from their lungs long enough for me to get a word in edgewise.
No such luck.
The second Vanessa pauses to breathe, Blythe is all too happy to pick up the baton.
News broke out across the country club this morning about Maggie’s post just as Blythe sat down with some big wig for breakfast, and she was “humiliated!” No surprise there. When she compares it to the locker room incident, as if that was somehowmyfault, my jaw threatens to unhinge itself from my skull.
Surely, she can’t be serious…
Except she is.
“Do you have any idea the PR nightmare this will cause, how much damage it’salreadycaused?” Blythe shrieks. “Your father’s manager called here half an hour ago to confirm he lost a potential sponsorship due to ‘ethical concerns’! And this is just the start! You can be sure your little pink-haired friend will be sued into oblivion—”
“Trent’s the one who posted the pictures,” I start to explain, but Blythe just rolls her eyes and throws up her hands, as if to say, “Here we go again,” like I’m just the girl who cried wolf. Or rather criedTrent.
“I don’t care who did what! The Eastons aren’t the ones who have to worry about damage control,” she snaps. “Trent was still wearing clothes! And even if he was bare-ass naked, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. He’s the playboy son of a billionaire. The worst this will get chalked up to is a youthful indiscretion. The next time he goes into the country club, all of the men there will be yucking it up,congratulatinghim. Women aren’t granted the same luxury. As far as the public is concerned, he’sjust Casanova with another notch on his belt. Meanwhile, you’re nothing more than the town hussy!”
I’m about to point out what should be obvious, but leave it to Vanessa to plunge the dagger into my back.
“After everything that happened senior year, how could you bethisstupid?” The venom in her voice may as well be a physical blow. “I knew you were a coward, but I didn’t think you’d stoop so low to be one of his skanks.”
I start laughing. Like hysterical, hyena-level laughing. Because what the fuck? I don’t even know where to begin unpacking that statement. “I’m sorry, but since when did you start believing me about anything to do with senior year?”
