I finally break the spell. Slowly shaking my head, I laugh dryly while flicking my cigarette to the snowy ground. I leave her standing there, not another word spoken between us.
8
HUXLEY
“What’s upyourbutt?”
I clench my teeth, exhaling deeply before sliding my gaze up from the book. I’m sitting near the window while Sophia is sprawled on the couch across from me, scrolling on her phone.
She’s not even fucking looking at me.
“I haven’t even said shit.” My voice is flat and full of impatience.
“You don’t have to. Your weird energy is stinking up the whole place.”
She still hasn’t looked up from her phone, the TV filling the silence between us with studio audience laughter.
“What the fuck are you even saying?” I answer with all the annoyance of dealing with a younger sister.
She huffs loudly as if I’m the one being difficult. Rolling her eyes up to the ceiling, she drops her phone on her chest, finally looking at me.
“You know, just because you were gone for five years, that doesn’t magically erase that we grew up together. I justknowthese things, okay? You’re not as misunderstood as you’d like to think.”
She falls silent and quirks an arrogant brow.
I absentmindedly drag my barbell between my teeth as I try to choke down what she just said.
Ouch.
Sophia has a knack for calling it as it is without bothering to sugarcoat things.
My mind still spins with how my night ended yesterday. Calling Connie an attention whore wasn’t my finest moment. I have trouble thinking about it without feeling ashamed. Then I remember her calling mekid,and I get angry all over again. But it was exactly what I needed to hear to snap me out of whatever infatuation I had for her.
She’ll never take me seriously.
I was just an easy fuck.
An itch to scratch.
At least now, I know exactly where I stand with her. Although I should have known from the start. It’s as if I lost all my social skills while I was rotting in prison. I hate how prison politics feel a lot more natural to me now. I got used to keeping my head down and my mouth shut. Simple. Straightforward. Even after more than a year, the outside still feels confusing. Stressful and overwhelming.
Pathetic.
I’m such an embarrassment.
I sigh, closing my book, and resign myself to admittingsomeof my anxiety to Sophia.
“It’s just that … I’m having — I don’t know.”
I stop talking, the words stuck somewhere between my heart and ribcage.
Sophia hums like a fucking therapist. “Great start.”
My irritation flares. “Fuck off, Soph.” I spit the words out, and she barks out a laugh.
“Come on, dude,give me something — What is it? Selina?” she asks innocently.
“No, it’s not Selina, but —” I stop abruptly, rubbing my palm over the scruff on my cheeks.
