Chapter 19: Chapter 19

“It’s true, and now look at you. You’re like a fucking lost puppy over some Virgin Mary–turned–skank who obviously doesn’t even want you!” she yells, laughing or crying. Those things tend to look almost the same on Molly.

I clench my fists as Jace and Zed appear next to her. Molly puts a hand on Jace’s shoulder. “Tell him, guys. Tell him that he’s a fucking snore ever since we outed him to her.”

“Not we. You,” Zed corrects her.

She glares at him. “Same thing,” she says, and he rolls his eyes.

“What’s the problem?” Jace asks.

“Nothing,” I answer for her. “She’s just upset because I won’t fuck her needy ass.”

“No—I’m pissed because you’re an asshole. No one wants you around anyway. That’s why Jace told me to tell her in the first place.”

All I see is red. “He what?” I say through my teeth. I knew Jace was a dick, but I thought for sure it was Molly’s jealousy that drove her to reveal everything to Tessa the way she did.

“Yeah, he told me to tell her. He had it all planned: I was going to tell her right in front of you after she had a couple drinks, then he was going to chase after her and comfort her while you were crying like a fucking baby.” She laughs. “What was it that you said, Jace? You were going to ‘fuck her brains out’?” Molly says, using her claws to make air quotes.

I take a step toward Jace.

“Hey, it was just a joke, man—” he starts to say.

If I’m not mistaken, a smirk plays on Zed’s lips as my fist connects with Jace’s jaw.

I feel nothing on my knuckles from the repeated blows to Jace’s face; my anger overpowers everything as I climb on top of him to continue my assault. Images of him touching Tessa, kissing her, undressing her flash through my mind, making me hit him harder. The blood on his face only pushes me on, making me want to hurt him as much as I possibly can.

Jace’s black-framed glasses lie broken and shattered next to his bloody face as strong hands pull me off him.

“Come on, man! You’re going to kill him if you don’t stop!” Logan yells in my face, snapping me back to reality somewhat.

“If any of you have anything to fucking say to me, say it now!” I yell to the group I had once considered friends, or the closest things I had to such.

Everyone stays silent, even Molly.

“I mean it! If anyone says another fucking word about her, I won’t hesitate to take each and every one of you motherfuckers down!” I take one last look at Jace, who is struggling to get up off the floor, and walk out of Zed’s apartment into the cold night.

Chapter fifteen

TESSA

These taste so good!” I practically yell at Kimberly as I suck down the remainder of my fruity drink. I greedily shift the straw around the ice to try to get as much as I can out of the glass.

She beams. “Want another?” Her eyes are a little red, but she’s still composed, whereas I feel funny and light.

Drunk. That’s the word I’m looking for.

I nod eagerly and find myself tapping my fingertips on my knees to the beat of the music.

“Are you feeling okay?” Trevor laughs when he notices.

“Yeah, I feel really good actually!” I yell over the music.

“We should dance!” Kimberly says.

“I don’t dance! Well, by don’t I mean can’t, not to this type of music anyway!” I’ve never danced the way the people inside the club are dancing, and usually I would be terrified of joining them. But then the alcohol buzzing in my veins gives me courage like never before. “Fudge it—let’s dance!” I exclaim.

Kimberly smiles, then turns and gives Christian a kiss on the lips, lingering longer than normal. Then in a flash she stands up and hauls me off of the couch, pulling me out toward the crowded dance floor. As we pass a railing, I look down and see the two stories below us filled with people dancing. Everyone looks so lost in their own world it’s intimidating and intriguing at the same time.

Of course, Kimberly moves expertly, so I close my eyes and just try to let the music take control of my body. I feel awkward, but I just want to fit in with her; I have nothing else.

After I’ve danced through an unknown number of songs and two more drinks, the room begins to spin. I excuse myself to head for the bathroom, grabbing my purse on the way and pushing through endless sweaty bodies. I feel my phone start vibrating in my bag, so I dig it out. It’s my mother; no way I’m answering that—I’m way too drunk to talk to her right now. When I hit the bathroom line, something makes me scroll through my inbox, and I immediately frown at the realization that Hardin hasn’t texted me.

Maybe I should see what he’s up to?

No. I can’t do that. That would be irresponsible and I would regret it tomorrow.

The flashing lights bouncing off the walls are starting to get to me as I wait in line. I try to concentrate on my phone screen, hoping the feeling goes away. When the door to one of the stalls finally opens, I bolt in and lean over the toilet, waiting for my body to decide whether to get sick. I hate this feeling. If he were here, Hardin would bring me water, he would offer to hold my hair back.

No. No, he wouldn’t.

I should call him.

Realizing I won’t be sick, I exit the little room and go to the sink area. Hitting a couple of buttons on my phone, I place it between my shoulder and cheek and tear a paper towel from the dispenser. I place it under a faucet to wet it, but the water doesn’t come until I wiggle the towel around the sensor; I hate these automatic sinks. My eyeliner has run a little, and I look like a different person. My hair is wild and my eyes are bloodshot. After the third ring, I hang up and set my phone on the edge of the sink.