by Calia Read
I nod again and follow him outside.
“I think about her ... but not in that way,” he finally says. “It’s more along the lines of thinking about what I did to her.”
“Would you take it back?”
Macsen deliberates over my question before he answers. “Every single second, even my time spent with her.”
My head pulls back and I stare at him skeptically. “Why?”
“Severine and I ... we never matched, Emilia.” He pulls his hat out from his back pocket and speaks so casually. There’s no pain in his voice. If I was questioning whether he still wanted his ex, I no longer had to wonder. “From day one, we were all wrong.”
My head turns down. I stare at the rock next to my shoes and push it back and forth. “Then why date her to begin with?”
His foot reaches out and intercepts my little game of soccer. I crane my neck and look him in the eye. “You’ve never taken a chance on something?”
My body needs to keep busy. I want that rock back, I’ll even settle on a bee landing on my shoulder. I just want to be busy. Instead, I toy with my fingers. “I’m taking a chance right now.”
Truth. Everything I just told him was the truth.
For the past month, I’ve watched Macsen Sloan. He always looks so bored, like everyone is wasting his time. A book is always in his hands. Most of the time, he keeps to himself. He goes against everything I’ve read about him and that makes him fascinating to me.
I think this makes me the worst sister.
Frequently, I remind myself to wait for the other side of his personality to kick in. But it never does.
Everyone’s true colors come out over time. I wonder how long it will take for Macsen’s to show.
“What is your chance?” he asks me seriously.
I stare behind him at the stream of light provided by the pole light. “Being here on my own, and…”
He takes a step forward and blocks my view of the parking lot—my view of everything. “And what?”
“And, I don’t know.” I veer to the left, far away from him. “Moving on with my life.”
I’m making no sense. My heart is close to ripping out of my chest. I moved here for one reason. Now that reason is becoming like an ancient letter, fading more and more with time. If I stared at it right now, I’d never be able to make out the words.
“You make it sound like you’re asking for permission,” Macsen tells me, searching my face.
I want to get far away from here, but Macsen’s words are pulling me closer. “What are you talking about?”
“Moving on with your life.” He waves a hand in the air before tucking his hands into his pockets. “You can’t even say it with confidence.”
I tuck my arms tight in defense because his words are hitting way too close to home. “I do too.”
“You really don’t.”
“You know nothing about me,” I say the words softly, but it’s a warning.
“You’re right.” He takes a rigid step back. “I know nothing about you, but I know what it’s like to try and move on from the past.”
If he weren’t in front of me, I would burst in tears. I run his words over in my head, wondering what he’s trying to escape.
Macsen is walking away, and I can’t move my feet, even if I tried. I plant my hands on my hips. He turns around and directs his eyes at me. “I’ve spent my entire life questioning my mistake, trying to move on. Last year, I stopped doubting and just did something. I’m nowhere I want to be, but it’s fucking better than where I was.”
I wait until Macsen pulls out of the parking lot. The headlights of his truck are still in sight. When I can no longer see them, I release my breath.
Outside, everything is pitch black. I don’t know how long Macsen and I talked. Sometimes, it surprises me when it’s easy to talk to him. The conversation we just had left an impression on me. A chord was struck in my heart, and now I’m left to mull over his words.
I dial Tosha’s number. I need her perfect amount of crazy. Lately, we haven’t seen much of each other. I’m trying to get over a failing grade in math, and she’s trying to get under the newest guy who has her attention.
My fingers drum against my steering wheel and she finally picks up. “I’m sorry. This must be a mistake. Emilia Wentworth can’t be calling me.”
“It’s only been a few days since we talked last.”
“A few days for us is like a century for some people,” Tosha points out.
I smirk. “Well, I’m sorry for not calling you yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.”
“You’re forgiven,” she says instantly.
“I just got done with my tutoring session. Where’s a good place to eat?”
“There’s this place on campus called the Student Center. Believe it or not, there are these places where you can order meals.”
“Hardy har har,” I mutter.
Tosha laughs loudly. “I’m assuming you want something off campus?”
“You assume right.”
“There’s this cute diner right outside of campus. They make the best clog-your-arteries-cheese fries.”
Cheese fries perk me up. My car is immediately in reverse. “Give me the directions and meet me there, okay?”
She sighs dramatically and spews off the directions. She may act like it’s a hassle, but I know she’ll be the first person there. “Fine,” Tosha whines. “See you in ten.”
When I pull up in front of the small diner, I see Tosha leaning against her Camry. She points to her watch and walks over to the driver’s side before I have the car in park.
“That’s dangerous.” I open my door and pull the keys out of the ignition. “I could’ve accidentally run over your foot or something.”
Tosha rolls her eyes. “Doubtful.”
We walk into the diner together, and it’s adorable. It looks like it has been plucked out of a 1950s magazine. The tile is black-and-white checkered, the booth cushions red, and not surprisingly, there is a jukebox next to the entrance. It’s nothing like I’m used to, and I love it for that sole reason.
“This place is so cute,” I confess to Tosha.
“It’s not your usual reservations-at-eight kind of restaurant, but I figure someone needs to be your dose of reality.”
I pinch her arm. “Reality?”
She rubs her skin before she links an arm through mine. “Yeah, I’m your tour guide to living middle-class.”
I’m tempted to remind Tosha that I met her at the same private school I went to, but then it would pop Tosha’s illusion that she was nothing like the people we grew up with.
We went to St. Xavier’s sixth through eighth grade. Her parents worried that since she was growing up with six brothers, she wasn’t around enough females. I didn’t know Tosha the first year she was there, I just knew of her. She was the girl you didn’t want to mess with. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind and spent most of her time in detention. Her locker was close to mine, but I stayed quiet enough to blend in. I was in the shadows for everyone. But, one day, I was the target when a bitchy girl from our class shouted out that I stuffed my bra.
It was a moment I can look back on now and realize the bitchy girl was just jealous, but then, I was ashamed of my body and it was mortifying. Tosha poked her head out of her locker, looked Brittany up and down, and told her she looked like a walking STD.
After that, Tosha took me under her wing, constantly encouraging me to stand up for myself. In return, I showed Tosha that books could also be used for reading—not just for throwing at someone who pissed her off.
“You’re really quiet tonight,” Tosha remarks.
I look at her over the edge of my menu and shrug. “I’m as quiet as I normally am.”
Tosha shakes her head and drops her menu. “That’s not true, at all. So spill it.”
I’m saved from answering. A waitress named Kristen comes to our table and takes our orders. When she is out of earshot, I l
ink my fingers together and lean forward.
Tosha has a nose like a bloodhound, so I’m never good at keeping secrets from her. She will always sniff them out.
I pick at a napkin and start out slowly. Just to see how Tosha will react. “Macsen Sloan has been tutoring me for a while.”
Tosha has known I needed help with math. I told her a few weeks back that I was getting tutored. I just never told her who was helping me.
“Oh yeah?” She messes with the saltshaker, clearly bored. “I hear he’s pretty good.”
“He is,” I admit slowly.
Finally, the light bulb goes off in her head. She jerks her face up and her eyes narrow at me. “Wait. Is he the reason you’ve been acting all weird?”
I nod sheepishly. “Yes.”
Tosha looks completely lost. I rest my elbows on the table and get comfy. “I have this whole plan-”
“Wait,” she interrupts. “You have a plan? A plan for what?”
“To get back at someone.”
“Who?”
I wave my hand in the air as if that’s unimportant. “One of the Sloan brothers.”
“Did one of them do something to you?” Tosha asks with her eyes bulging wide. “Were you ra-”
I know where that question is going. “No!” My face twists in disgust. “Seriously, no!”
Tosha doesn’t look convinced. I stare at her without blinking, hoping she sees the truth. I wouldn’t lie about this. “Fine,” she shrugs a shoulder. “I was just checking.”
“I’m telling the truth,” my voice lowers so no one can hear me. “That is not what’s going on here.”
“I can’t even process this.” She rubs the sides of her head and stares down at the table. “How do you even know Macsen?”
“He went to St. Xavier.”
She frowns. “Wait … he went there? How do I not know him?”
“Macsen was only at Xavier his senior year,” I explain.
“Ah … gotcha.” Her fingers drum on the table impatiently. “So was he mean to you? And now you want to get back at him?”
“No…” I swallow and look down at the table. “He knew my sister.”
Tosha looks at me with wide eyes. “Wait…” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “You don’t think he did anything to-”
Rudely, I interrupt her. “I think so.”
She shakes her head back and forth in disbelief. “You don’t get back at people ... you are Emilia Wentworth, the quietest person I know.”
“I’m quiet, Tosha. But I still feel,” I mutter. I look down at the dark red polish on my nails. “I want to forget everything.”
Tosha nods her head, but from the way her lips are set in a firm line, I know she doesn’t understand. “Is this why you asked me how to get back at someone?”
My head moves up and down.
Tosha slumps back into her seat.
Our food shows up, and for a few minutes, the two of us are too busy inhaling our food to say anything. I am, at least. Tosha keeps looking at me with squinty eyes. When I finish off my cheese fries, I take a long drink. Tosha groans. “Okay. I have to know. Are you targeting Severine?”
Torture time is over. I place my glass on the table and nod my head. “I’m rooming with Severine for a reason.” Tosha’s mouth forms the perfect O, and I continue, “I made a list with Eden last year.”
Tosha’s light brown eyebrows slant down. “And Severine was on the list?”
I shrug mysteriously. “Look, all I know is that I have to befriend Severine. I’m-”
Tosha is looking behind me, her hazel eyes wide. I instantly shut my mouth.
Who’s behind me? Thayer ... Macsen?
When I turn around I realize it’s worse. So much worse.
Severine is behind me with her arms crossed. She’s wearing a pissed off expression. One that says, ‘You bitch.’
That feeling of being caught red-handed—I’m feeling that and so much more right now. I’m trying to figure out how to back myself out of the corner I’ve put myself in. There’s no way out and I’m starting to panic.
Severine pulls her eyes away from me. I want to slink into the booth, but I keep my back straight and look her in the eye. No one says anything. Finally, a petite blonde steps forward that I recognize as Severine’s close friend, Lily. I can tell from the way she nervously smiles at everyone that she’s a mediator.
She tucks her hands into the pockets of her jeans and steps toward the table. “Hey, Tosha.” Her smile is hesitant. “My favorite booth is over there.” Lily points clear across the diner, far away from where I sit. “You want to go sit and chat with me?”
Lily is giving Severine the option to talk with me. Smoothly done. If the roles were reversed, I would have done the same thing.
Before I can protest and tell Tosha to stay, she is already sliding out of the booth, holding her plate tightly. “That sounds like a great idea.”
My friend is leaving me with Severine. I kick her underneath the table to get her attention, but she’s ignoring me. “Well, see ya later,” she says.
Tosha walks away with Lily, and I’m shooting daggers at her back. I am now stuck with Severine. She slides into the booth across from me.
Impatiently, I wait for her to lose control and start yelling at me. I’m mildly disappointed when all she does is settle her hands on the table and flash her steely green eyes at me.
“I knew there was something off about you,” she says slowly.
I raise a brow, but keep my lips firmly shut. Severine is far from finished.
“The day you walked into my dorm room I had this horrible feeling that you were after something. I thought it was maybe me or Thayer.”
All I can focus on is the fact that Severine has overheard my entire conversation.
I tread lightly and quietly ask, “What did you hear?”
Severine’s eyebrows shoot up. “Everything.” Severine leans close. “Who are you after?”
Pressing my body closer to the table, I speak quickly. “I’m taking back my life. I’m after everyone who has hurt me.”
Her face becomes paler by the second. “When you said you had to befriend me ... what the hell did that mean?”
The only way I can get her to help me is if I tell her the truth. I can’t do that. I don’t have enough trust in her to blurt out my plan. “Does it really matter now?” I mutter. “You know my intent.”
Severine rubs her temples and closes her eyes. “I can’t live with you. I can’t room with someone that is after me.”
“Move out,” I offer. “If you can’t live with me, go move in with Thayer.”
All she hears is Thayer. She pounces on my words and her expression is completely feral. “Is that who you’re after? Did Thayer do something to you?”
My memories urge me to open my mouth and tell her parts of my story, but for her, that would never be enough. Severine would expect the story from start to finish. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?” her voice is desperate.
Without caring, I settle my elbows back on the dirty table. “When everything is said and done, maybe you and I can have a long talk. But right now, no.”
I was validated with my hurt. A therapist would call it a vendetta. I call it a therapeutic process to overcome my past. To some people, it’s the exact same thing.
She’s quiet for a few minutes before she shakes her head and slides out of the booth. Seconds later, she’s standing up and leaning close to me. All I see is malice in her eyes. “We need to be clear on one thing.” My heart is thumping fast. I keep my face blank and wait for her finish. “Stay away from Thayer and me. I’ve worked too hard to have something with him. Do not take that away from me,” she utters slowly.
Her body uncoils from its hunched-over position, and a plastic smile is now on her face. She taps her hand against the table and turns to leave.
I don’t watch her leave, but the minute she’s out of the diner, my chest becomes less compressed. I’m fin
ally able to take a deep breath.
The first time I saw Severine, I saw her strength. It was her armor against the world. I just had no idea how strong...
But right now, Severine is fearful. Fear makes people do crazy, irrational things. When someone is fearful, everything becomes a knee-jerk reaction in an attempt to protect themselves.
I have no doubt that she will call me a bitch and a manipulator, but if she had experienced my story, I think she would probably understand my motives.
Tosha is replacing Severine’s seat in seconds. “Holy shit,” she breathes out. “What did Severine say?”
I place my money next to the bill and keep my voice casual. “Nothing.” I look at her and narrow my eyes. “By the way, thanks a lot for telling me she was behind me.”
“I didn’t know she was behind you. You were going on and on about your plan and I wasn’t paying attention!”
“So then once you see her, you up and leave me? Real nice, Natosha.”
Tosha gives me a look. “So now you’re going to full name me?” I nod my head and she continues, “You two needed to talk. It was obvious, Emiliana. Plus, you needed to do damage control.”
“Well, now she knows about my plan. And no damage control was done. I made everything worse.”
She cringes. “Is she going to tell?”
“Probably,” I mutter and stand up. “Let’s go. Tonight’s ruined.”
I’ve never enjoyed Halloween. Somehow, dressing like a slutty police officer doesn’t scream fun to me. Instead, I take my time at the library, trying to find a book that will drag me into its world and not let me go.
My leather bag is useless right now. It’s filled with textbooks and notebooks for classes. I carry my new check-outs in my hands and walk toward my dorm. Walking up the stairs, I search for my ID card and swipe it against the door. It beeps and I shuffle my books to one side.
“Here, let me help.”
Thayer Sloan smiles next to me and grabs the door. I look at his blue jeans and simple gray, long-sleeve shirt before I give him a cautious smile. If Severine were here, she’d be getting ready to tackle me.
