Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
We go downstairs to the pool and occupy two sun loungers.
“I was so worried for you when you left the bonfire the other day. Did you get home okay?” Thalia lathers her legs in enough baby oil to drown one.
The question is so backhanded and manipulative that I can’t help but let my inner Daria do the talking for a second, “Oh, yeah. Lev looked for me all over town. Found me pretty quickly, though.”
“He is great, isn’t he?” Thalia smiles brightly, reaching to pat my arm. Feels like a snakebite. “He came to my place right afterwards.”
What?
My rage is so potent it feels like there are lava bubbles burning through my veins.
He was supposed to break up with her. If he is so-called in love with me, why does Regina George over here think she has an invitation to our family holiday?
There’s so much anger and frustration and despair in me, and I have nothing to do with them. Nothing but wait for her to leave so I can pop more Xanax.
Thalia notices me flinch. She presses home with a dreamy moan. “Oh, don’t be nervous, Bailey! I totally kept our little secret.” She winks. “Let’s just say I found a way to distract him, if you get what I’m saying.”
Barf fills my mouth, and I force it down my throat.
No way am I letting her see how much it hurts.
Slanting my gaze her way, I ask, “Have you spoken to him about college yet? Are you guys sticking it out?”
Lev might be knocking boots with Daisy Douche over here, but he is not taking her seriously.
I know because he is all heart and she is all venom. But Thalia seems serene as she folds her bikini bottom an inch to allow the sun to evenly tan her groin. “Not yet. But things are looking up. I’m starting to see he truly cares for me. I think we’re super bonded over the fact he lost his mom and I almost lost my sister to cancer, you know? We get each other. Thanks for the advice, Bailey. You’re such a good friend!”
It hurts.
Hurts so much I can’t breathe.
Hurts that I can’t make one good decision lately.
Hurts that I’m addicted. Hurts that I’m injured.
Hurts that I’m hurting others.
My entire universe seems to be pain, and for the first time in my life, I wonder if the world is going to be better if I just…leave it.
“You’re so welcome.” I smile.
“High-school sweethearts! Imagine if we end up married!” She squeals.
Thanks, I’d rather imagine being devoured by hungry sharks in the open ocean.
I fling a towel over my head to signal the conversation is over.
I shove Thalia out my door as soon as decorum allows and trek downstairs to the basement to pop a few pills.
Only after my mood is somewhat leveled, I decide to launch Operation Make Lev Dump Thalia.
Not the catchiest title, but it’s safe to say I’m not at my peak right now.
I’m doing this out of purely altruistic reasons. She is obviously a terrible influence.
She gave me drugs when I tried to kick the habit. Lev deserves better, even if that better isn’t the drug-addict ballerina next door.
If he dumps her without realizing she is the one hooking me up with drugs, I can get both my drugs and happy ending with my best friend.
Standing with my back to the studio mirror, I pull out my phone, stick my butt out, and drop my bikini bottom, snapping a semi-naked picture of myself and sending it to Lev.
I’m not sure what I expect to get back from him, but it isn’t the deafening silence that greets me, so I decide to give him another nudge.
Sexting is the bread and butter of the twenty-first-century civilization—how hard can it be?
I lie on the floor, pulling my bikini top down, and snap a selfie of me topless, swimming in the shimmering gold of my hair. My nipples are taut, my lips pink and parted, and now it is no longer a hint. It’s an open invitation.
Old Bailey would say ten million Hail Marys just for toying with the idea of sending a nude pic. But my normal self isn’t home right now.
This time, I send it with a caption:
Still settling for the knockoff, or are you ready for the real thing?
A minute passes. Then five.
Fear trickles into my gut like acid, drip, drip, drip.
What if he’s had enough of my mood swings? What if he hates this new me? Normal Bailey texts him fun ballet and aviation facts, not pictures of her nipples. How much longer can he be kind and understanding before he finally snaps?
The door upstairs swings open, crashing violently against the wall. I jump in surprise.
Upstairs, Dad is growling, “What the hell, Lev? I’m gonna send your old man a bill for that crown molding.”