Page 25 of The Weekend Getaway

12:19 a.m.

Grace

Grace decided it was time to tell Mia what she’d seen.

Alex behaving badly.

Worse than badly, actually.

Pushing her way through the throng of sweaty, smelly coeds, reeking of booze, weed, sex, and puke, Grace tried to ignore the pounding in her head, made worse by the bass-heavy thumping music. She had more pressing things to worry about, namely her stomach, which was in shambles after several shots of whatever the hell Chris had given her to drink. She needed a ginger ale. Maybe some saltine crackers. Where was the kitchen in the colossal mansion? Better yet, where was the bar? Could she make it there before getting sick?

Grace thought about what she’d caught Alex doing.

Would Mia believe her? Would Mia care might be a better question. Alex was a manipulative narcissist who’d cheated on Mia before, so she had to know he would cheat on her again. Especially after Mia had forgiven him after she caught him with that teaching assistant. And with that girl from his Calculus class who was tutoring him. And the girl from his high school that he hooked up with when he went back to his small town to attend his grandfather’s funeral. Mia had caught them in the custodial closet at the church.

Mia would have no problem believing that Alex was cheating on her at this party.

Again, the question was?—

Out of nowhere and for no apparent reason, Grace was violently shoved forward, into a gaggle of trust fund bitches dressed in skimpy, slutty outfits that probably cost more than Grace’s family’s house. Sneering and scowling, the girls shoved her back. She stumbled into a pack of inebriated, shirtless frat bros, who howled and jeered and grabbed her, trying to feel her up as they made snorting noises. “Oink, oink!” joked one, leering at her, while another said, “Hey, Ms. Piggy!” and someone else in the asinine crew said, “This little piggy went to market!” Grace shoved and scratched and gave them the finger, fighting her way past them. She was not in the least surprised that they’d made fun of her weight. Not that she cared about what they thought.

Grace had always been plump. On the heavy side. She was a fat kid who’d been a fat teen who was now a fat college student. Nevertheless, she had a boyfriend. Chris didn’t careabout her thick thighs, wobbly ass, or flabby arms. And that was probably because he was chunky, as well. And short.

The person who gave her the most shit about her weight was Mia.

She was always subtly judging what Grace ate, pointing out the calories and fat content of Grace’s choices. Always finding a way to insinuate that Grace should exercise more. For her health, more than anything, Mia claimed. Not to shed pounds, although that would be a bonus. Mia never made jokes or mean comments, but once or twice, Grace had caught Mia looking at her with disgust. Once when they were trying on lingerie, and another time when they went to the beach. Grace hadn’t cared how she looked in a bikini, but Mia seemed mortified and strangely disturbed.

Grace figured Mia thought being a size double-zero was some badge of honor. That being thin was the same as being better than chubby girls with gelatinous stomachs, double chins, and fat asses. Girls like Grace. Thinness made Mia feel superior, but Grace thought the skinniness had to feel like a hollow victory. Mia was small and willowy, with legs like a colt and hardly any body fat, but her thinness wasn’t enough to stop her boyfriend from cheating on her.

Even Mia’s beauty combined with her slender frame was not enough for Alex.

Alex cheated and Mia forgave him.

Grace forced her way through a makeshift mosh pit and finally made it to the bar. Sighing, she leaned over the gleaming wood countertop, which was probably an antique, and waved her hand to get the bartender’s attention.

“Ginger ale, please,” Grace yelled, once she’d managed to get him to notice her.

Shaking his head, he said, “Only got tonic water or seltzer.”

“Seltzer!” Grace said, practically screaming over the music. “Please! Thanks!”

Moments later, she gulped the seltzer, then let out a loud, deep belch.

Feeling somewhat better, Grace leaned against the bar, holding her head. Should she tell Mia about Alex? Tell Mia what she’d seen. Yeah, Mia would believe her. Because Mia knew Alex was a narcissistic asshole. A sociopath who only gave a damn about himself and what he wanted.

That’s why they were all at this stupid party where they didn’t belong. They hadn’t even been invited. Well, Alex had been told he could attend, and that he could bring friends. Even Alex was an outsider. A guy at WBU on an academic scholarship, like they all were. Broke and out of place. Except Alex didn’t plan to be insignificant and of no consequence for long. Hence his main reason for coming to the party. Not to party, but to get closer to the host, Phil Richart.

Grace shuddered, thinking about the oil and gas scion.

When she’d been introduced to him, when they all first showed up, Phil had smirked at her, unrestrained disgust in his gaze, like she was shit he couldn’t get off the bottom of his shoe, and so he would have to throw it away.

“You want another seltzer?” The bartender asked, leaning closer toward her. “Or something else?”

With her stomach feeling less rebellious, Grace said, “Shot of tequila.”

The bartender nodded, then went to make her drink.

Grace sighed. She didn’t need more liquor. But the liquid courage was necessary, especially if she was going to tell Mia that she’d seen Alex hooking up with Sarah.

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