Shelby shakes her head and pulls her phone out, searching for something on Facebook. “As if that wasn’t enough, they even made a banner and hung it up on campus with your number on it.” She hands me the phone. There are some photos pulled up from a profile of some girl named Tiffany. The first one is of her sitting on Oliver’s lap nibbling on his neck. Jealousy floods my system, and I don’t know what to make of that. I hold no claim over him, and apparently, I never did, so why the hell do I feel this way?
Scrolling down the pictures, it only gets worse. More of her and Oliver, others of her with Banks. Then Banks with another girl. Sullivan is in some as well. All of them make me feel the same way. Jealous and betrayed, neither one of those feelings is justified or explainable.
Then I find one picture that hits home. Tiffany, two other girls, and the Bishop brothers are standing in front of a banner, posing with it and laughing. It reads Harlow Needs More Dick- Send Pics If you’re DTF! A number, which I assume used to be mine is written with it.
“It was terrible. Your phone wouldn’t stop ringing, you had to get a new number. Guys would harass you walking across campus. I don’t know why they were so cruel to you.”
I don’t understand. I can feel my heart struggling to beat. It feels like I’ve been gutted, and I’m struggling to hold myself together.
“I’m sorry, Harlow. I tried to stop it, but it was pretty much the whole school against us two. Then the accident happened, and I was so worried about you.” Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears.
“Thank you for being a great friend, Shelby, you’ve always stuck by my side… through everything, even when I didn’t remember who you were,” I force a smile because honestly, I feel like crying right now. I’m not sure why, but I do. It’s like the very thought of them doing those things taints the perfect images I have of them inside my mind.
“Well, what are friends for if not to protect those that they care about. You would have done the same for me. Now let’s try and get some sleep before the sun comes up.”
I nod in agreement, while Shelby gets up and starts to put on her PJs. I don’t even bother. All I do is slip out of my shoes and skinny jeans before curling up in my bed. When the lights are out, and the room is blanketed in silence, I wait for sleep to come, but it never does, and instead, I find myself staring up at the ceiling wondering why if the Bishop brothers were so mean to me, if they bullied me, why do I feel so connected to them? Why does it physically hurt to think about them being with someone else?
6
It’s been two days since the party, but the ache in my chest from what Shelby shared with me hasn’t stopped throbbing. It feels like a bruise that’s continually being prodded at, never getting the chance to heal. Luckily, I haven’t seen any of the Bishop brothers, and I’m more than okay with that. I’m not really sure how to approach them now that I know the truth. Hell, I don’t even really understand all of this.
My emotions are a rollercoaster ride, up and down with each curve, then a loop as the final blow. I want to hate all three of them, but deep down in the pit of my stomach, there is this flicker of doubt that I could ever hate them. If I could just get my stupid memory back, maybe I could finally make sense of everything.
Walking into class, I’m reminded of Shelby’s words, “They followed you here to get revenge.” Those words alone, coupled with the ones Matt told me, “I think you would much rather kill each other than screw.”
Then there are the pictures on the phone… the things they did.
Everything points to what everyone has been telling me… we have been nothing but enemies, rivals.
Pushing the thoughts away, I find a seat at one of the empty tables at the back of the chemistry class. There are small lab stations already set up in the center of each table, and the look of it makes me nervous. I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing here, hopefully, whoever decides to sit beside me knows what to do.
A petite looking girl with short brown hair appears out of thin air, sliding into the seat beside me. She smiles blissfully, and as I stare at her, maybe a little too long, I can’t help but think she looks like an adult version of Tinkerbell.
“Hi, Harlow. I’m Caroline.”