The asshole laughs at my comment. He doesn’t believe me one bit. I’ve just picked up another bottle when he says, “Eh, it’s just as well. Last I heard, she’s got half the team trying to hit it.”
I stop dead in my tracks.
“Fuck.” I groan in pain.
I glance down at my palm.
I’m bleeding. I squeezed the bottle so hard when he talked about the team drooling all over Dia that I broke the damn thing. A small chunk of glass is digging into my palm, tearing my flesh open.
I think back to the time I accidentally cut myself with a plastic knife six months ago. Axel was flirting with Dia at lunch. One of these days, I’m going to stop making myself bleed for this girl.
Xavier watches as I rush to the sink and pull the glass out of my hand with a wince. “You’re over her, huh?”
I throw the alcohol cabinet open and grab a bottle of vodka. We don’t have any peroxide. This’ll have to do.
“Fuck off, man,” I grumble as I disinfect the wound.
The front door swinging open stops him from answering.
“How’s the intervention?” a familiar voice says, and I curse beneath my breath. Theo bursts into my kitchen the next second, and I stare daggers through Xavier’s head. What’s next? Did he call my fucking dad, too?
“Useless,” I reply. “I don’t need your fucking concern. I’m fine.”
“Tell your hand.” Xavier gestures to my bloody palm, and I sigh.
Theo halts a few steps into the kitchen and makes a face at the mess. “Dude, just because you fucked someone else and filmed it doesn’t give you the right to turn a million-dollar mansion into a dumpster.”
He told him?
There’s no way Theo would know about that unless Xavier ran his mouth. Or is it common knowledge at this point? I’m guessing Dia told Lacey. If she told a gossipy cheerleader, then it’s safe to assume the whole school knows by now.
“I didn’t film it,” I correct, grabbing the first aid kid out of the kitchen drawer.
“Oh, well, then that changes everything.” Theo snorts, and I flip him off over my shoulder.
“Get this—he says he didn’t cheat,” Xavier fills Theo in as I’m bandaging my cut.
“No shit?” Theo snickers, a tad too amused by my misery for my liking. “And you didn’t tell Dia why?”
That’s my snapping point.
“The next person to say her name is going home with my fist imprinted on their fucking face, you got that?”
The guys are stunned by my outburst.
“If I wanted to see her or hear people talk about her, I’d be at school right now.”
Silence.
“Got it?” I urge.
They nod in response.
“Next topic.” I put the first aid kit away.
We relocate to the couch shortly after, but I don’t pay attention to the guys’ conversation. I want nothing more than to get blackout drunk again. I know it’s a terrible coping mechanism, but all I can think about is the unopened bottle of tequila in my dad’s stash.
“They’re gone for the weekend. Something about trying to save their clusterfuck of a marriage.” Theo’s words pique my interest.