Me: I’m not that clever. I wish I were, because I’d be all about revenge right now.
Ridge stops walking and turns to face me. He cocks an eyebrow, and a slightly wicked grin appears. It makes me laugh, because I can tell by his smile that he’s mapping out a plan.
“Okay,” I say, nodding my head without even knowing what he’s about to propose. “As long as it doesn’t land us in jail.”
Ridge: Do you know if he leaves his car unlocked?
• • •
“Fish?” I ask, crinkling my nose in disgust. We’ve made a pit stop at a local grocery store next to the apartment complex, and he’s buying a huge, scaly whole fish. I’m assuming this has to be part of his elaborate revenge scheme, but he could just be hungry.
Ridge: We need duct tape.
I follow him to the hardware aisle, where he grabs a roll of heavy-duty duct tape.
Fresh fish and duct tape.
I’m still not sure what he has planned, but I sort of like where this is headed.
• • •
When we’re back at the apartment, I point out Hunter’s car. I run up to the apartment to grab his spare car key out of my purse, where I still have it, while Ridge wraps the fish with duct tape. I come back downstairs and hand him the key.
Me: So what exactly are we about to do with this fish?
Ridge: Watch and learn, Sydney.
We walk to Hunter’s car, and Ridge unlocks the passenger door. He has me tear off several pieces of duct tape while he reaches under the passenger seat. I’m watching closely—in case I need to seek revenge against anyone in the future—and he presses it against the underside of the seat. I hand him several pieces of duct tape, trying to contain my laughter while he secures the raw fish with it. After he’s sure it won’t come loose, he slides out of the car and closes the door, looking around innocently. My hand is over my mouth, stifling my laughter, and he’s as cool and composed as can be.
We casually walk away from the car, and once we’re on the stairs to the apartment, we begin laughing.
Ridge: His car is going to smell like death in a matter of twenty-four hours. He’ll never find it.
Me: You’re kind of evil. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’ve done this before.
He laughs as we make our way back inside. We kick off our shoes at the door, and he tosses the duct tape onto the counter. I use the bathroom and make sure to unlock the door to his bedroom before I walk back out. In the living room, all the lights are out, except for the lamp by the couch. I lie down and check my phone one last time before turning it on silent.
Ridge: Good night. Sorry your birthday sucked.
Me: Thanks to you, it was better than it could have been.
I place the phone under my pillow and cover up. I close my eyes, and my smile immediately fades when the silence takes over. I can feel the tears coming, so I cover my head with the blanket and brace myself for a long night of heartache. The respite with Ridge was nice, but I have nothing to distract me now from the fact that I’m having the worst day of my life. I can’t understand how Tori could do something like this to me. We’ve been best friends for almost three years. I told her everything. I trusted her with everything. I told her things I would never dream of telling Hunter.
Why would she risk our friendship for sex?
I’ve never felt this hurt. I pull the blanket over my eyes and begin to sob.
Happy birthday to me.
• • •
I have the pillow pulled tightly over my head, but it doesn’t drown out the sound of gravel crunching beneath shoes. Why is someone walking on a driveway so noisily? And why can I even hear it?
Wait. Where am I?
Did yesterday really happen?
I reluctantly open my eyes, and I’m met with sunlight, so I pull the pillow tighter over my face and give myself a minute to adjust. The sound seems to get louder, so I lift the pillow from my face and peer out with one eye open. The first thing I see is a kitchen that isn’t mine.
Oh, yeah. That’s right. I’m on Ridge’s couch, and twenty-two is the worst age ever.
I lift the pillow all the way off my head and groan as I squeeze my eyes shut again.
“Who are you and why are you sleeping on my couch?”
My body jumps, and my eyes flick open at the deep voice that can’t be more than a foot away. Two eyes peer down at me. I pull my head back against the couch to put more space between me and the curious eyes to get a better look at who they’re attached to.
It’s a guy. A guy I’ve never seen before. He’s sitting on the floor directly in front of the couch, and he’s holding a bowl. He dips a spoon into the bowl and shoves it into his mouth, then begins the loud crunching again. I’m guessing that’s not gravel he’s eating.