“Incredulous is right,” I mumble. “I can’t accept that you think it’s all right for people to hang on your every move, to have everyone act as if you are the best thing since sliced bread. You aren’t.”
“In your opinion,” Zac says.
“But your opinion doesn’t matter,” Ace says.
“Or maybe it’s yours that doesn’t matter,” I argue. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need o get going.”
I take one step away, but Gabe grabs a hold of my arm. “Don’t tell me you’re going to leave this mess here, are you?”
I grimace. Soup has splattered all over the table but also the floor, whatever hadn’t been soaked into my skirt.
Defiant as ever, I lift my chin and square my shoulders. “Lick it up,” I snap, and I yank my arm free and march out of there.
When I glance back, I’m pleasantly surprised to see that the guys are cleaning up the mess. Good. Serves them right, the assholes.
CHAPTER17
When I returnto my apartment, I remove my skirt. It smells already, and I think I do too. What’s worse is that my legs are covered in broth.
A glance at the clock has me realizing that there’s hardly any time for me to get to class. Even if I leave right now, I might still be late. Awesome.
I wearily rub my forehead. Should I just throw on shorts and hurry up and get to class a little late? I guess so, but before I can reach for my bottom dresser drawer, I realize that my rings on my small shell jewelry tray have been rifled through. I think they’re all here, but what the hell? Is Lauren going through my stuff when I’m not around? Because that’s utter bullshit.
As much as I hate to waste more time, I double-check to ensure that all of my rings are still there. They are, but I shove the tray into my top drawer and cover it with some thongs. I’m not going to be able to leave anything out in the open if she’s going to mess around. I should probably confront her about it, but she’s not here, and she’s not always around. It might be better to avoid her if possible and confront her only if necessary. Looking isn’t such a big deal, but if she’s going to steal from me, well, that would be a different story. I won’t be a doormat.
Again, I reach for the bottom drawer, but my phone rings.
I open the drawer.
Another ring.
I grab shorts.
Another ring.
Maybe I should see who it is. It could be Mom.
It’s not. It’s Kyle.
All thoughts of hurrying to class flee, and I can’t answer my phone fast enough. “Kyle!”
“You sound way happier than I thought you would,” he says.
“Can’t I miss my big brother?”
“Sure you can.”
“What’s up?”
“I thought I would see how you’re doing.”
I blink a few times. “You wait until college has been in session for how long to call and check in with me?”
“Do you need me to check in more often?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Well then? You aren’t doing anything you shouldn’t, right?”