Page 32 of Warmer, Colder

“Is it because of Aiden? You should tell him.” Meg rushes toward me, ignoring or maybe not noticing how I shuffle back, and takes my hand. The familiarity between us doesn’t fit right anymore.

“No.No.Leave Aiden out of this.” I tear my hand away and turn my back, busying myself with the papers on my desk. “I really don’t have time for this. This semester is kicking my ass.” A half-truth. “You know how important it is for me to keep up my GPA. I need to be studying.”

With those attentive eyes that now read so differently, she watches me carefully. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily. What did you even do to get on their bad side like this? I just… I just don’t understand, why are you letting them treat you like this? You were one of them, don’t you know how to handle them?”

“I wasnotone of them.”

“Okay, but I mean, you hung out with them for years.” Meg holds her hands up. “You might not have been mean to people the way they were, but you were there.”

“I haven’t been that person in a long time.”

“I know, Bec, I know. And you know how much I love to have been the catalyst for your change of heart, but I’m just saying.”

“It’s different.” I keep my gaze fixed on the floor.

Meg asks the question I’m trying desperately to evade “But why?” Frustration laces her tone as she cradles my hands and brings them to her chest. “What aren’t you telling me?”

The harsh swallow that breaks the silence says ‘a lot’ but what comes out of my mouth is very different. “Like I said, there’s nothing for you to worry about. I’ll be fine.I am fine.” A heavy sigh leaves me as I attempt to expel the negativity that’s attached itself to me.

Liar. You’re anything but fine.The old Becca inside me screams.You just tried to kill yourself.That distant part of me is desperate to confess to my friend. The wiser part of myself, broken as she may be, knows better. This is the only safe course.

Worry creases Meg’s forehead but there’s something else hiding behind her conflicted gaze. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay, you’re obviously not.” Her eyes soften and her lips part as she rubs a hand up my arm, the affection dangerous to my resolve.

Abruptly, I step back forcing distance between us, reducing the boiling over emotions to a simmer. “You should go.”

“Bec, please.”

I can’t acknowledge the yearning in my best friend’s eyes, not after everything.

“I’m not doing this. I want you to leave.”

“Fine. But you have to promise me that you’ll tell Aiden. He’ll make it stop. You don’t deserve to be harassed.”

“Yeah, okay; I’ll tell him. Will you go now?” The agreement is empty and meaningless to me.

She steps closer, holding my gaze with a look of deep care that threatens to lull me into a confession. “I know you’re going through some things right now. I’ll be here for you when you’re ready.”

Silent tension pulls taut between us, but I cut it with dismissal as I pull the door open and step into the hall. Reluctantly, Meg follows me out.

Chapter 14

Stasi

9 Days Dead

My mind spins in a dizzying rage as I search for anything to latch onto for some semblance of control. Jealousy spills black ink, concealing any rational line of thought. The only thing that remains clear is that Meg has tried to take what’s mine.

Her friendship with Becca. The closeness they share. And most unforgivably, the entitlement she feels to Becca’s heart. The thought that anyone else could hold it is the biggest offense of them all. One that needs to be righted immediately.

Springing off her bed, I look for something to take out my anger on. My eyes catch on the pictures rimming her vanity mirror. There in the collage of Polaroids are dozens of photos of them together. In far too many, Meg is discreetly positioning herself close to Becca. Well, discreetly to the straight eye. To the queer eye, she might as well be throwing herself at her. My blood boils, my temper spilling over. One by one, I tear the photos away from where they’re carefully tucked. Removing them from their shrines isn’t enough. Pinching and shredding, rip after rip, I shrink the photos until they’re barely recognizable slivers of paper and film. The mess litters the ground like confetti.A celebration of me snapping.

Scattered beneath my feet, I’ve turned memories into ashes. I banish the guilt that lurks around the edges of my conscience.This is a small penance for all the pain she’s caused me. But more than a taste of revenge, it’s a reminder. She was always supposed to be mine and I won’t give that up now.

To really drive my message home, I crank open a pink lipstick that’s been left on the vanity and writeNobody Touches My Girlwith a little heart over the “i”. The weight of my conviction crushes the tip leaving it misshapen just like my mangled heart.

With a long inhale, followed by a measured exhale, I admire my masterpiece. The destructive itch has been scratched.

After what feels like an eternity—doesn’t every hour and every day now—Becca comes back. Immediately, she notices the mess of memories destroyed on the floor. “What the hell?” she gasps as she drops to her knees and grabs one piece then another, squinting slightly to try to make out what she’s looking at. None of them are salvageable unless she wants to meticulously glue the tiny pieces back together. A tingle of satisfaction trails up my spine.

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