I fight the urge to scoff, because I have a feeling there are more than a few reasons why she hasn’t had many girlfriends.
“You think you might rush?” I ask instead.
“Oh, no,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “I’m not one to pay for my friends.”
She laughs with the joke, writing something in her notes, but when she looks back up at me and sees the pissed expression, her face goes ashen.
“Oh… shit, Skyler, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant—”
“That you think I pay for my friends?”
She cringes. “Sorry. I shouldn’t assume. I just… I don’t really get all this,” she says, waving her hand around. “It all feels fake to me.”
I push off the wall, stepping into her space. “I know the feeling, of when something feels fake,” I say, arching a brow as I eye her up and down. “Or someone.”
There’s a twitch of something in Natalia’s eyes then, recognition, like she knows what I’m not saying. She smirks, and then her eyes flick behind me. “Your boyfriend is amazing, you know?” she asks, pulling her gaze back to mine. “He’s really going to be something out in Los Angeles.” She tilts her head then, fake sympathy washing over her face. “I’m sure you’ll really miss him when he goes back and you’re still here.”
“I’m sure I won’t be the only one,” I pop off before I can think better of it.
At that, Natalia smiles. “Maybe you can come out to California after graduation and I can show you around.”
Confusion furrows my brows.
“Oh, Kip hasn’t told you?” Natalia asks, stepping in a bit closer. “I’ve been accepted to UCLA for the fall semester.”
It takes everything in me to show absolutely no emotion at her news, but I know even with a stone-cold expression, there’s victory for Natalia in the fact that I have nothing to respond with.
Before I get the chance to figure out what to say, Kip is back, his arm around my shoulder and his lips pressing a warm kiss to my cheek. “Ready to get back in there?”
“Oh, I’ll get us a couple beers. I can’t wait to hear how much you all raised at the end of the auction!” Natalia says, her smile bright and cheery. She winks at us. “See you two inside.”
And then she skips off, and Kip beams like she’s his favorite child.
“She’s really taking this seriously,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s not often you find people like her, who are focused at such a young age.”
“She’s focused, alright,” I murmur under my breath.
“Come on,” Kip says, squeezing me at his side. “The show can’t start without the president.”
Natalia is a perfect angel for the rest of the night. She buys me drinks and keeps her distance from Kip, as if now that she knows I’m not too shy to call her on her shit, she wants to make me think I’m crazy by playing completely innocent.
The fact is, she hasn’t really done anything wrong, or said anything wrong, or put her threat on the table in any substantial way.
But I’m not a fool.
And I’m also not one to fuck with.
They say to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
Looks like I’m about to have a new best friend.
THIS WOULD HAPPEN TO me.
I would finally land an interview at one of the top wedding planning firms in the city and then wake up on the morning of the interview sick as a dog.
I would go to the interview anyway, hoping they couldn’t tell, only to be looked at with wide, bulgy, don’t come too close to me eyes.
I would have what otherwise would have been considered the best interview of my life… and then promptly sneeze and send snot flying into my hand without a tissue anywhere in the room.
Just the memory of my interview this afternoon has me groaning again, and I roll over in bed, sniffling and peeking out from the burial ground I’ve made with my sheets and comforter. I’m completely burritoed up, save for my eyes, and the hand holding my phone as I scroll through social media.
There’s nothing worse than when you’ve already had a bad day and you scroll through your newsfeed only to discover that everyone else is just out living their best life.
I’m engaged!
I got a new job!
I spent my day on a boat!
Well, good for fucking you.
With a resentful sigh, I pull up the add a post tab and snap a picture of me under the covers with my red, puffy eyes and raw nose. I flip the camera off for good measure, and then post it with the caption being sick sucks.
So original, Jess.
I don’t feel any better once it’s posted, even with the flurry of hearts that come in and the waterfall of feel better comments. Probably because I know every single one of those people commenting couldn’t care less about me in actuality. I’m just another stop on their social media tour, a quick like and obligatory comment, and then they’re moving on and I’m forgotten.