Page 161 of The Initial Insult

“Cool,” he says.

We trade numbers, and I wait for the text that says what he wants in return.

It doesn’t come.

Chapter 60

Felicity

Sophomore Year

“Tress and Hugh?” Maddie’s voice is high, unbelieving, soaked in vodka.

“That’s what I heard,” Brynn says, shrugging. “I guess they’ve been, like, hanging out.”

I think of Hugh in Gretchen’s bathroom, yanking his shirt off, helping me clean up. He’s a nice guy. “Good for her,” I say, but I say it into my drink, the words echoing back at me from the sides of a red Solo cup.

And I mean it, kind of. I ignore the little drop in my stomach and the ideas that had taken root that day when I looked at Patrick’s hand and wished it were Hugh’s. It’s the least I can do for Tress. Well, that and funnel her constant cash for pills.

“Whatever,” Gretchen says. “There’s no way Hugh is smashing trash.”

I take another drink. If there’s something in my mouth it’ll stop the words from coming out.

“Hey, speaking of trash,” Brynn says, her eyes going to the corner where I spot Patrick talking to Jessica Stanhope. She’s shed something like fifty pounds in the past year, and apparently guys who wouldn’t look twice at her before are now honing in. But I’m all out of good for hers. I make my way toward them in time to see him punch her number into his phone, then give her ass a pinch as she walks away.

“Hey,” I say, coming up beside him.

“Hey,” he says, slipping his arm around my waist, smooth as hell. It’s been here a lot lately—with clothes both on and off.

“What was that about?” I ask, nodding toward Jessica.

“Nothing, just talking,” he says, avoiding my eye.

“Just talking?” I repeat, but he only nods. “Like maybe you’ll talk later, too? Because I saw you get her number.”

His arm is gone from my waist, his eyes not kind anymore. “That a problem?”

“I . . . well . . . ,” I sputter. He was supposed to be caught. Supposed to be guilty.

“Look, maybe I wasn’t totally clear with you about what’s up with us,” he says, leaning down so that his voice is in my ear. “I’m not a one-girl kind of guy.”

“Oh,” I say, my stomach bottoming out. He’s saying it so casually, like it’s not a big deal. Like I have no right to be angry. Maybe I don’t. I mean, I never did ask him if we were dating. I just let him do . . . well, basically whatever he wanted. As long as I got an Oxy first.

“I mean, that’s cool, right?” Patrick says. “You didn’t think that we were . . .”

“Yeah, no, yeah, I mean, duh,” I say, all the words I didn’t have for Gretchen coming out now, tripping over each other, not making sense. “I mean, whatever.”

He nods. “Cool.”

Sure, it’s cool. Everything’s cool. Everything is awesome. I walk back over to the girls and find my drink.

Chapter 61

Tress

Sophomore Year

My phone is ringing. At three in the morning. That can’t be good.