Prologue
Sydney
I just punched a girl in the face. Not just any girl. My best friend. My roommate.
Well, as of five minutes ago, I guess I should call her my ex-roommate.
Her nose began bleeding almost immediately, and for a second, I felt bad for hitting her. But then I remembered what a lying, betraying whore she is, and it made me want to punch her again. I would have if Hunter hadnt prevented it by stepping between us.
So instead, I punched him. I didnt do any damage to him, unfortunately. Not like the damage Ive done to my hand.
Punching someone hurts a lot worse than I imagined it would. Not that I spend an excessive amount of time imagining how it would feel to punch people. Although I am having that urge again as I stare down at my phone at the incoming text from Ridge. Hes another one Id like to get even with. I know he technically has nothing to do with my current predicament, but he could have given me a heads-up a little sooner. Therefore, Id like to punch him, too.
Ridge: Are you OK? Do u want to come up until the rain stops?
Of course, I dont want to come up. My fist hurts enough as it is, and if I went up to Ridges apartment, it would hurt a whole lot worse after I finished with him.
I turn around and look up at his balcony. Hes leaning against his sliding-glass door; phone in hand, watching me. Its almost dark, but the lights from the courtyard illuminate his face. His dark eyes lock with mine and the way his mouth curls up into a soft, regretful smile makes it hard to remember why Im even upset with him in the first place. He runs a free hand through the hair hanging loosely over his forehead, revealing even more of the worry in his expression. Or maybe thats a look of regret. As it should be.
I decide not to reply and flip him off instead. He shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders, as if to say, I tried, and then he goes back inside his apartment and slides his door shut.
I put the phone back in my pocket before it gets wet, and I look around at the courtyard of the apartment complex where Ive lived for two whole months. When we first moved in, the hot Texas summer was swallowing up the last traces of spring, but this courtyard seemed to somehow still cling to life. Vibrant blue and purple hydrangeas lined the walkways leading up to the staircases. The fountain affixed in the center of the courtyard saw a steady stream of youthful visitors.
Now that summer has reached its most unattractive peak, the water in the fountain has long since evaporated. The hydrangeas are a sad, wilted reminder of the excitement I felt when Tori and I first moved in here. Looking at the courtyard now, defeated by the season, is an eerie parallel to how I feel at the moment. Defeated and sad.
Im sitting on the edge of the now empty cement fountain, my elbows propped up on the two suitcases that contain most of my belongings, waiting for a cab to pick me up. I have no idea where its going to take me, but I know Id rather be anywhere except where I am right now. Which is, well, homeless.
I could call my parents, but that would give them ammunition to start firing all the We told you sos at me.
We told you not to move so far away, Sydney.
We told you not to get serious with that guy.
We told you if you had chosen prelaw over music, we would have paid for it.
We told you to punch with your thumb on the outside of your fist.
Okay, maybe they never taught me the proper punching techniques, but if theyre so right all the damn time, they should have.
I clench my fist, then spread out my fingers, then clench it again. My hand is surprisingly sore, and Im pretty sure I should put ice on it. I feel sorry for guys. Punching sucks.
Know what else sucks? Rain. It always finds the most inappropriate time to fall, like right now, while Im homeless.
The cab finally pulls up, and I stand and grab my suitcases. I roll them behind me as the cab driver gets out and pops open the trunk. Before I even hand him the first suitcase, my heart sinks as I suddenly realize that I dont even have my purse on me.
Shit.
I look around, back to where I was sitting on the suitcases, then feel around my body as if my purse will magically appear across my shoulder. But I know exactly where my purse is. I pulled it off my shoulder and dropped it to the floor right before I punched Tori in her overpriced, Cameron Diaz nose.
I sigh. And I laugh. Of course, I left my purse. My first day of being homeless would have been way too easy if Id had a purse with me.
Im sorry, I say to the cab driver, who is now loading my second piece of luggage. I changed my mind. I dont need a cab right now.
I know theres a hotel about a half-mile from here. If I can just work up the courage to go back inside and get my purse, Ill walk there and get a room until I figure out what to do. Its not as if I can get any wetter.
The driver takes the suitcases back out of the cab, sets them on the curb in front of me, and walks back to the drivers side without ever making eye contact. He just gets into his car and drives away, as if my canceling is a relief.
Do I look that pathetic?
I take my suitcases and walk back to where I was seated before I realized I was purseless. I glance up to my apartment and wonder what would happen if I went back there to get my wallet. I sort of left things in a mess when I walked out the door. I guess Id rather be homeless in the rain than go back up there.
I take a seat on my luggage again and contemplate my situation. I could pay someone to go upstairs for me. But who? No ones outside, and whos to say Hunter or Tori would even give the person my purse?
This really sucks. I know Im going to have to end up calling one of my friends, but right now, Im too embarrassed to tell anyone how clueless Ive been for the last two years. Ive been completely blindsided.
I already hate being twenty-two, and I still have 364 more days to go.
It sucks so bad that Im . . . crying?
Great. Im crying now. Im a purseless, crying, violent, homeless girl. And as much as I dont want to admit it, I think I might also be heartbroken.
Yep. Sobbing now. Pretty sure this must be what it feels like to have your heart broken.
Its raining. Hurry up.
I glance up to see a girl hovering over me. Shes holding an umbrella over her head and looking down at me with agitation while she hops from one foot to the other, waiting for me to do something. Im getting soaked. Hurry.
Her voice is a little demanding, as if shes doing me some sort of favor and Im being ungrateful. I arch an eyebrow as I look up at her, shielding the rain from my eyes with my hand. I dont know why shes complaining about getting wet, when there isnt much clothing to get wet. Shes wearing next to nothing. I glance at her shirt, which is missing its entire bottom half, and realize shes in a Hooters outfit.
Could this day get any weirder? Im sitting on almost everything I own in a torrential downpour, being bossed around by a bitchy Hooters waitress.
Im still staring at her shirt when she grabs my hand and pulls me up in a huff. Ridge said you would do this. Ive got to get to work. Follow me, and Ill show you where the apartment is. She grabs one of my suitcases, pops the handle out, and shoves it at me. She takes the other and walks swiftly out of the courtyard. I follow her, for no other reason than the fact that shes taken one of my suitcases with her and I want it back.
She yells over her shoulder as she begins to ascend the stairwell. I dont know how long you plan on staying, but Ive only got one rule. Stay the hell out of my room.
She reaches an apartment and opens the door, never even looking back to see if Im following her. Once I reach the top of the stairs, I pause outside the apartment and look down at the fern sitting unaffected by the heat in a planter outside the door. Its leaves are lush and green as if theyre giving summer the middle finger with their refusal to succumb to the heat. I smile at the plant, somewhat proud of it. Then I frown with the realization that Im envious of the resilience of a plant.
I shake my head, look away, then take a hesitant step inside the unfamiliar apartment. The layout is similar to my own apartment, only this one is a double split bedroom with four total bedrooms. Mine and Toris apartment only had two bedrooms, but the living rooms are the same size.
The only other noticeable difference is that I dont see any lying, backstabbing, bloody-nosed whores standing in this one. Nor do I see any of Toris dirty dishes or laundry lying around.
The girl sets my suitcase down beside the door, then steps aside and waits for me to . . . well, I dont know what shes waiting for me to do.
She rolls her eyes and grabs my arm, pulling me out of the doorway and further into the apartment. What the hell is wrong with you? Do you even speak? She begins to close the door behind her but pauses and turns around, wide-eyed. She holds her finger up in the air. Wait, she says. Youre not . . . She rolls her eyes and smacks herself in the forehead. Oh, my God, youre deaf.
Huh? What the hell is wrong with this girl? I shake my head and start to answer her, but she interrupts me.
God, Bridgette, she mumbles to herself. She rubs her hands down her face and groans, completely ignoring the fact that Im shaking my head. Youre such an insensitive bitch sometimes.
Wow. This girl has some serious issues in the people-skills department. Shes sort of a bitch, even though shes making an effort not to be one. Now that she thinks Im deaf. I dont even know how to respond. She shakes her head as if shes disappointed in herself, then looks straight at me.
I . . . HAVE . . . TO . . . GO . . . TO . . . WORK . . . NOW! she yells very loudly and painfully slowly. I grimace and step back, which should be a huge clue that I can hear her practically yelling, but she doesnt notice. She points to a door at the end of the hallway. RIDGE . . . IS . . . IN . . . HIS . . . ROOM!
Before I have a chance to tell her she can stop yelling, she leaves the apartment and closes the door behind her.
I have no idea what to think. Or what to do now. Im standing, soaking wet, in the middle of an unfamiliar apartment, and the only person besides Hunter and Tori whom I feel like punching is now just a few feet away in another room. And speaking of Ridge, why the hell did he send his psycho Hooters girlfriend to get me? I take out my phone and have begun to text him when his bedroom door opens.
He walks out into the hallway with an armful of blankets and a pillow. As soon as he makes eye contact with me, I gasp. I hope its not a noticeable gasp. Its just that Ive never actually seen him up close before, and hes even better-looking from just a few feet away than he is from across an apartment courtyard.
I dont think Ive ever seen eyes that can actually speak. Im not sure what I mean by that. It just seems as if he could shoot me the tiniest glance with those dark eyes of his, and Id know exactly what they needed me to do. Theyre piercing and intense andoh, my God, Im staring.