Chapter Fifty One

Friday;

Lea's room was warm and softly lit, filled with a faint scent of her perfume and a hint of hairspray from her finishing touches. I was seated at her dressing table, the surface scattered with makeup palettes and brushes she'd been using for us. In the reflection, I watched her move with ease, a mischievous glint in her eye as she carefully twisted a section of my hair around the curling iron. It was the perfect setting for a Friday night—both of us relaxed, laughing, and anticipating the night ahead.

"You excited for tonight?" she asked, her eyes flicking up to meet mine in the mirror as she worked another curl into place.

I smiled, watching her steady hands. "I am, actually. I think playing pool and having a couple of drinks is exactly what I need."

Lea grinned, giving me a playful nudge. "Good. You deserve a fun night, minus the Montgomery drama." She released the curl, letting it spring into shape, and leaned back to admire her work. "Besides, you look amazing. All these curls suit you."

I ran my fingers through one of the soft curls, feeling its unfamiliar bounce. "Thank you. I'd have had no idea how to do this without you."

"Oh, please," she said, waving me off. "By the end of the night, you'll be a pro at all things bar-related, hair included." She winked, heading over to grab her jacket.

Lea and I walked down the creaky wooden stairs, our footsteps muffled on the carpet runner. As we reached the bottom, the warm glow from the living room drew us in, where her parents were nestled on the couch, immersed in some old comedy show that filled the room with soft laughter.

Lea stopped at the entrance, grinning mischievously as she held her arms out. "How do we look?" she asked, giving an exaggerated twirl. I couldn't help but smile, feeling a bit giddy under her excitement.

Her mom's face lit up, eyes widening as she took us in. "You two look stunning!" she said, clasping her hands together. "Oh, just beautiful." There was a touch of pride in her voice that made me feel like part of their family for a moment.

Her dad looked us over with a warm, approving smile. "Just don't stay out too late, alright?" he said, a playful warning in his voice.

Lea groaned, rolling her eyes. "Dad," she replied, exasperated. "I'm not in high school anymore." She crossed her arms but wore a smirk that showed she found his protectiveness endearing.

He held up his hands in mock surrender, chuckling. "Alright, alright, but you still live in my house," he joked, a grin tugging at his lips.

Lea grabbed my elbow with a conspiratorial smile, leading me toward the door. "Don't worry, we'll be fine!" she called back.

As we opened the door, her parents' voices rang out, filling the hallway with warmth. "Love you both!" they called in unison, their affection lingering as the door clicked shut behind us.

We stepped into the cool evening, the sounds of the neighborhood settling around us. Lea released my arm, looking at me with a grin. "Ready for tonight?"

I nodded, feeling a spark of excitement in my chest. "Let's do this."

We took my car, knowing Lea planned to drink tonight. She'd insisted she'd find a way home, but I offered to drive. I knew I'd stay sober, and this way, we could just enjoy the night without any worries.

As we settled in, Lea wasted no time connecting her phone to the car's Bluetooth. The music kicked in, a familiar, upbeat song filling the car, and without hesitation, we both began singing along. Lea occasionally paused to direct me, pointing left or right with exaggerated gestures, but mostly, we belted out lyrics and laughed our way there.

When we reached the bar, I found a spot near the entrance and parked. We got out, the cool night air brushing against our faces as we walked toward the dimly lit entrance. Lea, with her usual energy, slipped her arm through mine, and together we stepped inside.

The bar had a cozy, rustic vibe. Dim lights cast a warm glow, while small groups of people filled the space, clustered around tables and leaning over the pool table, laughing and talking. A soft hum of music filled the air—not too loud, just right.

Lea tugged me toward the bar counter, hopping onto a stool and giving the bartender a friendly smile. She nudged me as I sat next to her. "Hellooo!" she greeted the bartender with a mischievous grin. "Can I get a beer, please?" She turned to me, nodding toward the bartender, waiting for my order.

I hesitated, glancing around for a menu but spotting none. "Uhh... do you have any non-alcoholic drinks?" I asked.

The bartender nodded, wiping a glass with a towel. "Of course. We've got mocktails, sparkling water, soda—whatever you'd like."

"Surprise me," I replied with a smile, relaxing a little.

Lea leaned in, her eyes dancing. "Good call, but you'll have to take a sip of my beer at least once tonight. Just one!"

I laughed, shaking my head. "I'll think about it," I teased, knowing she'd probably keep asking.

The bartender worked on our drinks, a clinking of ice and the faint scent of citrus filling the air as he mixed them. Lea spun on her stool to face me, leaning in with a curious glint in her eye.

"Soooo," she began, dragging out the sound with a smirk, "I wasn't going to bring it up, but I can't help myself. How was Montgomery today?"

I sighed, my gaze lingering on the bartender as he skillfully garnished our drinks. "The same as always," I murmured, shaking my head. "Didn't even greet me. Just handed over a pile of work and barely looked at me. I tried to start a conversation, but...the glare she gave me was enough to stop me."

Lea's face softened, and she placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Valentina," she said, her voice gentle, "I know I've joked a lot about you two, saying you should be together or whatever. But... after seeing how she's been treating you, I've changed my mind." She gave my shoulder a squeeze. "I thought about it for, like, a solid ten seconds, and I realized—this whole thing with her? It's too toxic."

My shoulders slumped as her words sank in. She was right. This situation was becoming increasingly unhealthy, like it was slowly chipping away at my heart, bit by bit.

Lea tilted her head, her eyes kind but serious. "You've got the biggest heart, Val," she said softly. "And I don't want to see it broken by someone like Montgomery... or worse, watch it keep breaking over and over."

The bartender slid our drinks across the counter just then, and we both thanked him in unison. I took a tentative sip, and a surprised smile spread across my face at the delicious blend of flavors. Lea grinned, clinking her beer against my glass with a playful huff.

"Alright," she declared, her tone brightening. "Enough about Montgomery. Let's celebrate you and your birthday! No more dwelling on things we can't change."

I nodded, clinking my tall glass against hers. The sound was satisfying, like the start of something lighthearted. Lea set her beer down, crossed her arms on the counter, and glanced over at the pool tables with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"As soon as they're done over there, I'm challenging you to a game of pool," she announced, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

I chuckled, rolling my eyes. "You don't need to challenge me, Lea. I'm terrible at pool."

She smirked, undeterred. "Perfect, then. By the end of tonight, you're going to be a pro," she teased, her eyes sparkling with confidence.

But just as she finished, her smirk faltered, her brows knitting as she glanced past me, her attention snagged on something behind us. She leaned in closer, squinting to get a better view.

"What on earth are you looking at?" I asked, puzzled, craning my neck to follow her gaze.

Turning slightly, I scanned the room, my eyes adjusting to the dim lights and the low hum of bar chatter. At first, I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. But just as I started to turn back, my gaze landed on a familiar figure seated at a table across the room. Montgomery.

She was leaning in, engaged in conversation, and sitting across from her was someone equally familiar—Victoria. Recognition hit me instantly, and I felt my stomach twist, a strange, uncomfortable sensation bubbling up as I watched them.

Lea's gaze darted back to me, her expression a mix of surprise and annoyance. "Of all places, she chooses this bar? Really?"

I let out a quiet, frustrated sigh, unable to take my eyes off Montgomery and Victoria. They seemed so... comfortable. Montgomery had that rare, softened expression, a look I had barely seen myself.

Lea's hand tightened around her beer glass, her knuckles paling as she stared at Montgomery and Victoria, her gaze sharp with suspicion. "Is she cheating on Vargas?" she hissed, her tone carrying a simmering anger. Her eyes were narrowed, as though mentally calculating what she'd say if that were the case.

I turned to Lea, shaking my head quickly. "No, no. Montgomery and Victoria are just friends," I reassured her, hoping to dispel the tension.

"They better be," Lea muttered, her eyes still fixed on them as she took a long sip of her beer. "I'd be tempted to go over there and say something if she were pulling that kind of stunt on her girlfriend too."

"Let's just ignore them," I said, shifting on my stool and settling in, trying to focus on the warm ambiance of the bar instead. I threw one last, lingering glance over my shoulder at Montgomery. She hadn't noticed us, mainly because her back was angled slightly away from the bar. If she'd been facing this way, she would have seen us by now. Somehow, though, it felt a little strange seeing her here, out of her element.

Lea finally pulled her gaze away and turned back to me, her expression softening as she set down her beer. "Alright, so... what's your plan for your birthday?" she asked, her head bobbing slightly to the music's steady beat.

I shrugged. "Honestly, nothing major. I have lectures all day, so I'll be on campus. But my aunt will probably want to take me out to dinner or something afterward."

Lea nodded thoughtfully, a small smile creeping onto her face. "That actually sounds nice—something small, just with people who care about you."

I smiled back, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, it does. But tonight's my pre-birthday celebration with you," I added, nudging her playfully.

She raised her beer glass in response, her eyes warm. "Exactly. So let's make it count, yeah? Ignore all the drama and just focus on having a good time."

Lea and I continued chatting, our conversation bouncing between random topics—anything from the latest shows we'd watched to the ridiculous outfits we'd seen on campus that week. The bar felt cozy, the hum of conversation and low music making it easy to get lost in our banter. I sipped my fourth drink, enjoying the fizzy sweetness, while Lea drained her fifth beer, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol. She was starting to get that tipsy sparkle in her eyes.

Just then, I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. "Whiskey, neat," a voice ordered crisply beside me. I turned slightly to see Victoria leaning against the counter, raising two fingers at the bartender with an air of casual authority.

"What are you looking at?" she snapped, her eyes narrowing as they settled on me, cold and assessing. Her tone cut through the easygoing atmosphere like a knife, and I quickly looked away, feeling her gaze linger for a moment longer before she turned back to the bar.

Lea noticed, arching a brow as Victoria gathered the two whiskey glasses and sauntered back to her table. "Jeez," Lea scoffed, watching her leave. "Is everyone in her life that rude, or is it just a special Montgomery Club?"

I chuckled softly, trying to shake off the strange tension Victoria had left behind. But before I could say anything, Victoria leaned down and murmured something to Montgomery, tilting her head toward us as she spoke. Montgomery's gaze followed, her eyes zeroing in on me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. She held the look for a second, making it clear she knew we were there.

Lea and I quickly turned our heads forward, trying to act casual, though my pulse picked up. "Well," I muttered, feeling Montgomery's gaze burn into the back of my head even though I wasn't looking, "she definitely knows we're here now."

Lea took a long sip of her beer before sliding off the barstool, motioning toward the empty pool table at the back. "Let's go, Val. Time to show you my skills," she grinned, leading the way. I picked up my drink and followed, weaving through the tables, but suddenly, someone stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

I froze, my heart hammering in my chest as I looked up—and instantly felt a chill settle over me. It was impossible. "W-what are you doing here?" I stammered, stumbling back a step.

My father's face, as worn and unsteady as I remembered, looked down at me with an eerily calm expression. "Just came for a drink," he slurred, his voice dripping with an old bitterness I thought I'd left behind. I swallowed, feeling like a child again, and took a step to the side, trying to slip past him. But he moved too, blocking me again.

"Aren't you going to talk to me?" he pressed, his bloodshot eyes fixed on mine. Memories flooded back—the way he'd always had this cold, absent stare after my mother passed. The same detached, almost menacing look that hadn't changed a bit.

I drew a shaky breath, desperate to keep my voice steady. "I just want to go play pool with my friend." My eyes darted around for Lea, hoping she'd notice. And then she did. She caught sight of me standing frozen, and in a heartbeat, she was beside me.

"What's going on here?" Lea's tone was protective, her eyes flickering between my father and me.

He didn't even glance at her, his focus locked on me. "Valentina," he drawled, "why don't we just sit down and have a nice, civil talk?"

My heart pounded harder, every nerve on edge. I hadn't seen him in years, had long convinced myself he'd moved on, disappeared. But here he was, invading my night, my life, all over again.

I forced myself to look him in the eye, keeping my voice low and controlled. "You abandoned me after Mom died. You weren't there for me, so why should I be here for you now?" My words came out in a soft, measured tone, but I could feel the hurt and anger bubbling beneath the surface, desperate to break free.

His mouth twisted in response, but he said nothing. I gripped Lea's arm tightly, ready to put this whole encounter behind me, and began to turn away. But my father lifted his hand, blocking our escape, his eyes narrowing. He seemed oblivious to the fact that I had zero intention of engaging. "Is that how you talk to your father?" he sneered, unsteady on his feet.

"You stopped being my father the day you walked out and left me alone," I replied, my voice cold, brows knitting together as I shook my head, trying to maintain control. But that struck a nerve, and before I could even react, a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. He'd slapped me.

Shock rippled through me as I staggered back, my hand flying to my face, trying to process what had just happened. My own father had actually hit me.

"Oh, hell no!" Lea's voice, usually light and teasing, was now sharp with fury. She seized her beer bottle and, without hesitation, slammed it against his head. He crumpled to the floor instantly, completely knocked out.

"No one—no one—hurts my best friend," she spat, dumping the remainder of her beer over him. Her face was livid, and her whole body radiated anger.

People around us turned to stare, murmurs rippling through the crowd. I took a shaky breath, trying to collect myself, still dazed.

He slapped me. The thought echoed in my mind as my hand pressed against the stinging warmth on my cheek, tears blurring my vision. I glanced around the room, feeling the weight of people's stares, and there, across the bar, were Montgomery and Victoria. Their brows were slightly furrowed, watching the whole thing unfold. Perfect. Now even they had a front-row seat to my humiliation.

Lea turned to me, her face a mixture of shock and fury as she gently removed my hand from my cheek, examining the red mark left behind. "Are you okay?" she whispered, her voice softer now, concern in her eyes.

I swallowed, the pain dulling but the hurt lingering. "Can we just go home?" I sniffed, fighting back tears. "I don't want to be here anymore."

"Of course," she said, nodding immediately. She quickly pulled a few bills from her wallet, tossing them on the counter to cover our drinks before wrapping her arm around me and guiding me toward the exit. I didn't look back, but I couldn't shake the image of Montgomery's impassive stare, as if she were watching something mildly interesting from a distance, without any intention of intervening.

This was supposed to be a pre-birthday celebration, and instead, it had turned into one of the worst nights of my life. The sting from my father's slap was nothing compared to the betrayal and disappointment swirling inside. And yet, even as we stepped into the cool night air, a tiny smile crossed my face, remembering the flash of righteous anger in Lea's eyes as she smashed her beer bottle against his head.

Thank fuck for Lea—my fierce, loyal friend who didn't think twice about standing up for me.

✿

Monday;

The weekend had passed in a blur, tinged with the sting of Friday night's memories. My father's slap still echoed in my mind, along with the hollow ache of seeing Montgomery watch it all unfold without a single flicker of concern. I tried to shake it off, but the sadness lingered, weighing down my steps as I made my way across campus.

Lea, bless her, had spent the whole weekend apologizing, as if she could somehow shoulder any blame for what had happened. I'd stopped her mid-ramble, grabbing her hands and insisting, "It wasn't your fault, Lea. None of it." Which was true—Lea had been my rock, the one person who stood by me, even when the night turned into a nightmare. And we'd shared a reluctant laugh over the image of her smashing that beer bottle over my father's head, both of us marveling at her fierceness.

I'd spent most of the weekend holed up in my room, burrowed under layers of blankets, letting the heaviness settle. My aunt had checked on me a couple of times, her brow creased with worry. I'd just mumbled something vague about feeling under the weather, not wanting to drag her into the mess that was my family history.

Now, trudging across campus, I'd just finished a lecture with Vargas and was making my reluctant way toward Montgomery's office. The thought of facing her felt heavier than usual. A part of me wanted to ignore my assistant duties entirely today, but I knew that would only give her one more reason to treat me like I was a nuisance.

As I reached her office door, I took a steadying breath, forcing my shoulders back and pushing down the anxiety curling in my stomach. I knocked once, the sound too soft. I tried again, louder this time.

"Come in," her voice called from the other side, clipped as always.

I opened the door, stepping inside to find her seated at her desk, papers strewn around her like always. She barely glanced up, her pen scratching across a page. She looked entirely unaffected, as though nothing had happened on Friday night.

"Good morning," I murmured, hoping my voice didn't betray the awkward tension coiling in me.

"Close the door, please," she replied, her tone impassive, not sparing me even a passing look.

I shut the door and moved to stand by the desk, waiting. She didn't look up, didn't acknowledge my presence any further, just continued her writing. The silence stretched on, heavy and uncomfortable, until finally, unable to take it anymore, I spoke up.

"Do you need me to work on anything specific today?" I asked, my voice sounding smaller than I intended.

Montgomery finally set her pen down, looking up at me with that same unreadable expression. Her gaze flicked over me, and for a moment, something softened in her eyes—just a flicker before it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

"There's a stack of papers on the shelf," she said, her voice as cool and detached as ever. "Organize them by subject and date, then file them."

"Got it," I replied, moving to where she'd indicated. I could feel her gaze on me, a prickling awareness that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. But I didn't turn around, didn't meet her eyes, just focused on the task in front of me.

I scooped up the stack of papers and made my way to the seat by the window, my gaze deliberately avoiding hers as I sank down and began sifting through the documents. Despite my best efforts, I could feel her eyes on me, a persistent, almost tangible weight that pressed against my shoulders. I kept my focus on the papers, sorting through them with an intensity that was probably overkill, but I was determined not to let her see how rattled I felt.

The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, until finally, she cleared her throat. "Are you okay?" Her voice was softer than usual, almost tentative.

I didn't look up, barely containing my irritation as I replied, "Yup." I popped the 'P' for emphasis, my eyes never leaving the papers in my hands.

A pause, and then, "Are you sure?" There was a subtle note of concern in her tone, as if she were treading carefully.

My patience snapped. I lifted my head, meeting her gaze with a sarcastic smile that felt brittle even to me. "Oh, please. Don't try and act all caring now." My words were sharp, slicing through the space between us. "You've made it perfectly clear I'm nothing but a TA to you, so please, spare me the fake concern."

She blinked, taken aback, and for a brief moment, I saw something unexpected flicker in her eyes—regret, maybe, or something close to it. But I wasn't in the mood to decipher her expressions.

"Valentina..." she began, her voice gentler now, almost hesitant.

"It's Ms. Wilson," I interrupted, my tone icy. "Professors don't call their TAs by their first names."

Her lips twitched, and she fought the hint of a smirk that flickered across her face, but it quickly vanished. She gave a small nod, leaning back in her chair as her eyes held mine. "Fair enough. I'll respect that."

She tilted her head slightly, as though studying me from a different angle. "Well then, Ms. Wilson, are you okay?"

I pursed my lips, feeling my patience wear thin. "Like I just said—yes." With a dismissive shrug, I let my gaze drop back to the stack of papers, immersing myself in the mundane task to block her out.

Montgomery let out a soft, almost resigned sigh, leaning forward as if she might reach out to me if she dared. She kept her gaze on me, unwavering, yet there was something softened in it. "My mother's doing better," she said, her fingers wrapping around a sleek, silver pen resting on the edge of her desk.

"That's great," I muttered without looking up, keeping my voice indifferent as I turned a page, pretending to focus on the notes. "I'll visit her whenever I get a chance."

"When?" she asked, her voice just above a whisper as she absently twirled the pen between her fingers, a small, rhythmic motion.

I shrugged, keeping my tone clipped, "I don't know. When I have time."

She paused, watching me for a beat. "I'm going later today if you want to come with."

I finally glanced up, narrowing my eyes at her suggestion. The invitation caught me off guard, and for a moment, I could see the faintest flicker of hope in her eyes. "No, thank you," I replied coolly, clicking my tongue. "I'd rather not visit your mother when you're there."

Montgomery raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint, amused smirk, as if she was expecting my response. She settled back in her chair, one leg crossing gracefully over the other, her expression unreadable. The pen, now still, was held tightly in her hand.

"Okay," she said, her voice soft, almost as if conceding to a game she knew she'd lose. There was no trace of anger or irritation, just that same subtle smirk playing at the corners of her mouth, her gaze unyielding yet oddly patient.

Montgomery's cool, unfazed reaction left a strange tension hanging in the air. I felt a prickling at the back of my neck as I watched her, trying to figure out what was running through her mind, what her angle could possibly be.

Narrowing my eyes, I leaned forward, suspicion lacing my words. "What game are you playing right now?" My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

She lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug, her gaze steady. "I'm not playing any games." Her tone was maddeningly calm, as though this entire conversation was beneath her interest. I clenched my jaw, swallowing the urge to roll my eyes. "Clearly, something is up."

She let her lips curve into a slow, infuriating smirk, looking me up and down with a blatant confidence that made my blood boil. "I just find you annoyingly hot when you have an attitude," she murmured, her gaze lingering on me with an intensity that left me momentarily speechless.

I tightened my grip on my pen, feeling the plastic press uncomfortably against my palm. "Do you also find it hot when your girlfriend snaps back at you?" I shot back, my voice cold and unwavering.

That smirk vanished from her face in an instant, her expression freezing over like a mirror shattering. "That's what I thought," I scoffed, unable to stop the satisfaction from slipping into my tone.

I leaned back, arms crossed, silently marveling at the absolute nerve of this woman. She was a walking contradiction, a thunderstorm on a sugar high, constantly shifting moods like some chaotic force of nature. One minute she was dragging me down in front of the class, then suddenly acting like we were the best of friends. She needed therapy—intensive, round-the-clock therapy. And knowing her, even her therapist would probably end up needing a therapist.