We all mimic her words, some of us more enthusiastically than others, as we throw them back.
“Let’s dance!” Tomas grabs my hand and leads me onto the dance floor. I accept it for what it is—an olive branch. I know he feels bad for ratting me out to Adrien. So I force my resentment aside and follow him.
The beat pulses through my body, my limbs loose. Someone hands me another drink—vodka and pineapple juice, not my preference, but I still down it in a few sips. Claire and Declan are dancing together a few feet away, her hips grinding into his in a way that even makes me blush.Get it, girl.And then I find myself dancing in between Ellery and Tomas, and a wave of affection for them overcomes me. The two little siblings of the trip, as I’ve come to see them. Always together, heads close, whispering or laughing to some inside joke.
The tempo changes, the beat transitioning from the up-tempo rhythm I recognize as the Two Door Cinema Club song Kyan and Declan haven’t stopped playing since the trip started, into something more mellow and less recognizable.
“I need to pee!” I announce before forcing my way through a mass of grinding bodies to the restroom. It’s empty, aside from one person examining her face in the mirror, swiping lip gloss over her perfect cupid’s bow lips.
Adrien.
The euphoria of the night seems to flood out of me at the sight of her, replaced by the anxiety from earlier. I need to end this before it gets out of hand. Before she does something to get even. Something I can’t come back from.
This is your last chance to start over, I remind myself.
“Adrien,” I say, a noticeable slur in my words, and she turns to me, one eyebrow raised. “We got off on the wrong foot. Let’s call it a truce, okay?”
She stares at me for a moment, her eyes blank. She seems sober, much more than I am.
“I don’t think so,” she says after a minute.
The room tilts, solids becoming less concrete, the world itself fuzzier and less tangible.
“Seriously?” I manage.
“You tried to drug me, Phoebe. That’s not something I’m quick to forget.”
“It was a joke,” I say, dragging out the last word. “Get over yourself.”
“No, I don’t think I will. I don’t need any more friends. Especially someone like you.” She trails her eyes up and down the length of my body, contorts her lips in noticeable disgust. “Now, if you’ll move out of my way, I’d like to enjoy the rest of my night without dealing with your usual bullshit.”
Anger washes over me, her words eradicating any thoughts of reconciliation. And I’m back in my childhood bedroom,hisvoice in my ear.You’re disgusting.
He’s in front of me, stepping forward, about to put his hands on me.
I’m the only one who will ever want you.
You should be grateful.
Poor Phoebe. No friends, too disgusting to ever love.
“Stop!” I reach my hands out and shove him, hard.
No, not him. Her. Adrien.
Her back strikes the water-stained mirror, which wobbles precariously against the wall.
“Oh.” The sound from my mouth is like a balloon deflating. “Adrien, I didn’t mean—”
She stares at me, dumbfounded. An expression I’ve never seen from her before. “You…you…”
“I’m sorry, it wasn’t— I—”
Wordlessly, she pushes her way past me, her elbow striking me in the shoulder before she throws open the bathroom door.
I rest my hands on the sink and look into the mirror, frosted over with fingerprints. My reflection—wild red eyes, stark cheekbones—swims in front of me. Despite everything I’ve done the last few months before this trip—the new haircut, the weight loss, the upgraded wardrobe—to become the type of person I wanted to see in the mirror, all I see is the girl I was. The overweight, self-conscious outcast.
I can never escape her.
