Chapter 21 | Zoey

Chapter 21

Zoey

C laire’s lost weight, and there are bags under her eyes. The stress kind, not the partying kind. Her usual effervescence is dimmed. Pain lances across my chest. I wince against both the unexpected sympathy I feel and the similarities between Claire’s appearance and my own. My best friend— former best friend—is in pain, and I hate it even now. But she did this. She broke my heart into a million pieces and shattered my whole world. Claire doesn’t get to be in pain.

“Hi.” Her voice wavers on the single word.

I don’t say anything. I can’t. My body is frozen in place, and the only thing holding me together is my silence. I don’t know what I thought seeing Claire would be like, but this feeling as if I’ve been sucker punched is not it.

“Haven’t seen you here in a while,” she says, trying again. “But I guess you knew Andrew wouldn’t be here since he’s leaving for Wildwood tomorrow. Rob still thinks it’s weird that he insists on going down before everyone else.”

This is peak Claire awkwardness. Not many people see this side of her—lonely, hesitant, rambling. Claire puts off that she’s cool and collected, energetic with too much sass. But I know better. She continues to ramble. Most of it doesn’t compute, but I gather that she’s here with her on-again boyfriend Rob, who is also Andrew’s best friend. Only Claire .

I feel eyes on us the longer she blocks the bathroom door. But still I can’t move. I’m not even sure I’m breathing. I clasp my hands to keep them from shaking and so I don’t smack her in front of all these people.

“Excuse me?” A voice from behind me cuts Claire off midsentence. Claire turns burning eyes on the girl, who when I chance a glance behind me, I realize can’t be more than a sophomore. But she meets Claire’s gaze head-on before transferring her attention to me. “Are you going to use the bathroom?”

“Yes, sorry.” I slip past Claire and into the bathroom. Once inside I let out a breath and then another. My forehead is damp and my hands clammy. I’m weak on my feet, and if I wasn’t in a public restroom, I would have already sunk to the floor. It took everything not to confront Claire. How can she stand there and talk to me as if we’re long-lost friends? As if I don’t hate her with every fiber of my being?

I turn on the water and splash my face. Before I straighten, the door opens and Claire steps in. She shuts and locks the door behind her. Why didn’t I do that? Fuck me.

“Are you really not going to say a single word to me?” She grips the doorknob, as if I’m going to bum-rush her to get out. And it’s not the worst idea I’ve had tonight.

“I have to pee,” I say finally.

She shrugs. “Then pee. It’s not like we haven’t peed and talked in this very bathroom before.” When I don’t move, she crosses her arms and leans back against the door. “Fine, tempt fate to give you a bladder infection, but I’m not moving until you talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

The rambling girl who was caught off guard by my appearance is gone. This is Claire as everyone else knows her. This is her fierce and unforgiving and in control. If I want to be mad, that’s fine with her, but I better at least scream about it. My therapist suggested something similar. But will it really make me feel better? I don’t think it will. I’ve decided how I feel about Claire. We’re done, forever. Screaming about it will only open up those feelings again. But a part of me wants to do it, wants that release.

Claire’s phone lights up, and a photo of Rob appears.

“I can’t believe Rob can stand to look at you, let alone touch you.” My voice is incisive. It’s not yelling, but it’ll do. Hurtful words come easily in a way they never do with Andrew. They both betrayed me—I know this—but Claire was my best friend, and breaking that trust is so much worse.

“I told him his penis is bigger than Andrew’s and that he was better in bed.” She looks up from her phone, her gaze locked on mine. “Between you and me, though, Andrew is superior in many ways.”

My stomach churns, and I will my body to hold it together. Throwing up on Claire is unacceptable. That would mean losing today’s battle, and I will not capitulate. Anger burns under my skin. My hands curl into fists, and I force them back open. Punching Claire is also unacceptable. Karma will come back to her. It always does.

“But apparently you’re not superior.” The words are out of my mouth before I can even consider them. The rational part of my brain knows this is a bad idea. But anger wrapped its arm around rational and pulled it deep down into a cage where I can no longer hear its pleas.

“And why’s that?” she asks, her tone suggesting she has no idea what I’m about to drop.

My lips curve into a smile. It’s malicious and cruel and not me but also me after . “Because I’m the one he’s still fucking.”