“I’m gonna be an ass for a second, okay?”
“Okay.” I can’t help but smile at the warning.
“It feels like you’re choosing Tess and Sheetal’s friendship over your grades.” He knows I’m a firm B and C college student now. “You’ve tried the whole ‘maybe I’ll have fun at this party, maybe it’ll be different’ mantra and you always end up wishing you didn’t go. So don’t fucking go. If they’re your friends, they should understand that.”
“They feel bad leaving me out.”
“So what?”
I’ve never really cared about being invited anywhere, and now that I receive invites, I stress about how many I can reject without being alone here in London.
“I think I need to go to this one,” I tell him. “I’ve bailed on them too many times recently.” I shut the bathroom door, entering the narrow hall. “Or…I guess I could suggest dinner at Barnaby’s?”
That way, they won’t care if I retreat to my room early on through charades.
What I’ve learned: maintaining friendships offline takes work, and I just hope that in the long-run it pays off and gets easier.
“You do have to eat,” Garrison says lightly.
I want to smile. It’s just harder when I miss him so much. I rub my arm, wishing he was here to draw me into his chest. I just picture my cheek on his heart. And I can almost feel the warmth of his skin. I can almost hear the soft beat.
“Let me know how it goes,” Garrison adds.
“I will…” My voice drifts as I glance at an ajar door.Salvatore’s room.Pink rose petals are strewn around the bed, and a girl’s ankle sticks out beneath the sheets.
My stomach drops.
“Willow?” Garrison’s voice spikes. “You okay?”
“I found the flowers,” I whisper. “I’ll call you back.” Once we hang up, I take a breath.Confront them, Willow Hale.
You can do this.
I step into the room and rap the doorframe. “Hello?”
Under sheets, Salvatore groans awake, stretching an arm, while the hungover girl smashes her face more into the pillow. Ignoring me.
“What is it?” he asks, Italian accent clear.
I push up my glasses. “Those roses belonged to me, and it’s okay…it’s okay that you signed for them but not if you planned to destroy them and give them to another girl.”
He makes a face like I’m delusional. “What are you talking about?”
“My boyfriend sent those roses.” I motion to the pink petals surrounding heaps of clothing.
“The card had no name,” Salvatore protests.
“Where’s the card?”
He points vaguely to the nightstand.
I snatch a square card from plastic wrapping. Near torn condom wrappers.
I read the card:
For my girl,
Hope these make you smile. If a whole fandom centered on you, I’d be your number one fan. Miss you, love you <3 <3 <3
