Someone to Love(84)
Why they broke it off? “Do you know why they broke it off?”
“Oh…” She grunts with marked aggression, “I do know. They crashed and burned.” She says it with an exaggerated sadness as if there’s an irony in there somewhere. “He cheated. He’s prone to wander. But you know that. He’s slept with at least five hundred girls. He’s got pig’s blood coursing through his veins just like his daddy.”
A breath gets caught in my throat. She so did not go there.
“What the hell are you talking about?” The words edge out as if each one took me one step closer to stepping off a cliff. “Take it back. Cruise isn’t like that, and I don’t appreciate you reducing him or his father to farm animals.” My blood boils right down to the marrow to hear her talk about Cruise like that.
She gives a solid laugh. “It’s true. But you’re one of those girls who needs to find things out the hard way, I can tell.”
The sudden urge to slap her rails through me, and the only thing stopping me is the fact a bitch like Blair would most likely file assault charges.
“Boy”—a frustrated laugh gyrates through me—“someone really screwed you over, didn’t they?” This is the last conversation I’m ever having with this psycho. I’m sorry I ever sat on this side of the room.
She needles me with those dark, brooding eyes. Her face is hard as flint with all of the sweetness drained right out of her.
“You’re right. Someone really screwed me over. Or maybe I did it to myself.” Her arm glides over the page in front of her, violent and spastic. She creates large black X’s through her meticulous sketch until the pencil knifes through layers of onion paper. She stops cold and looks right at me with a fire in her eyes that looks downright caustic. “He still loves her. You know that, right? That’s the reason he never brings her up—because it hurts so bad. He’ll always love the girl he was going to marry. You don’t really want to be second place in his heart, do you?”
I pack my things and turn to go, but she catches me by the elbow.
“Look”—she closes her eyes briefly—“I’m only trying to do you a favor. I never want you to feel as bad as I do. There’s someone special out there for you, Kendall. It’s just not him. His heart still belongs to me.”
My stomach lurches. I scoot the hell back, knocking down easels like dominos and half the room erupts from the chaos.
This is her?
She never once said so, and yet she listened as I told her the intimate details of our relationship.
I run out of the building.
I never plan on going back.
Cruise
Caught a ride home with Lauren. xoxo
Ride with Lauren? Huh. Maybe she’s not feeling good.
I would have left early if she wanted. I’m all done with classes just logging the last few minutes of office hours.
Strange. It’s usually me waiting for her. We’ve been driving together the past few weeks to save on gas. It won’t be the same leaving without her next to me. I actually miss her.
I let out a little laugh. It looks like Ms. Jordan has me whipped after all. My how the mighty have fallen.
A shadow darkens the doorway, and for a fleeting moment I’m convinced it’s Kenny. She’s probably going to tie me to the chair and make good use of this paper penitentiary.
“Cruise?” A female voice scratches the air.
My blood runs cold before I turn around.
I recognize that sharp tone, that curt inflection. Blair. She never did say my name with an ounce of respect.
My shoes dig in as I spin in my seat. I knew this was coming. Deep down inside, I never wanted to see her again, but her persistence, her stalker-like abilities ensured otherwise.
“Can I help you?” I look right at her. Her bright red coat glares at me like some damn alarm that I wish I would have ran from all those years ago—her lying lips, those deceptive eyes. Now that I see her again in this new light called reality, she’s plain compared to Kenny—downright skeletal in contrast to my future bride’s well-placed curves. For sure she’s hideous on the inside where it counts.
“What the hell do you want?” I say it low, to not stir the professors in their microcosms around me.
“You’re to the point.” She slinks in and closes the door behind her.
She thinks she’s caged me in, but I’m not above leaving.
“Heard you put a ring on it.” She pulls her shoulders to her ears before taking a seat on the desk right next to me.
It feels uncomfortable being this close to her, smelling that familiar perfume that unloads a truck full of bad memories.
“Listen”—she pulls her head back—“I’m just here as a friend. I don’t know how it happened, but I sit next to her in art, call it kismet, fate, whatever the hell you want, but she tells me these wild things about other guys and I thought you should know.”