Page 39 of Point of Contention

“Thank you,” I said on a nervous exhale. “It’s good to see you.”

“Okay, enough of that,” Hector said from the other side of Marcus. He leaned forward and flashed a wicked smile. “Tell us everything, new girl. And leavenothingout.”

I laughed as embarrassment heated my cheeks, then looked around at the others, bracing myself for their disgusted stares, but aside from Marisa, everyone just looked curious, leaning forward in their seats and watching me expectantly, eyes wide but not judgmental. My nerves eased a bit, but then I met Marisa’s gaze and she looked away quickly. My heart pinched at the rejection, but one of Eloise’s friends that I hadn’t yet met spoke up, pulling my attention away from the divide growing between Marisa and me.

“Did you really do all that…” She paused, then whispered, “Bondage stuff?”

A few of them giggled and Hector snorted.

“Obvi,” he said. “She, like, literally became his sex slave.”

“You can’t believe everything you read, babe,” Marcus chastised.

“I mean, there were pictures,babe,” Hector replied, looking pointedly at me. “Tell ‘em, Rylan.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Some of it was exaggerated…” I shrugged as Marcus leaned over and whispered, “Just let him have the fantasy.” He winked and I relaxed a little.

“Fine. Total sex slave.”

Hector beamed. “I knew you were a kinky bitch.”

Eloise squeezed my hand beneath the table, then began introducing me to her friends. A round of mimosas arrived and we settled into easy conversation—even if I was the topic for most of the meal—but as I focused on the others around the table and answered their questions as honestly as I could, laughing and blushing when their focus turned too personal, my gaze kept flicking back to Marisa. She watched me without saying anything, but I prayed that by the end of this awkward brunch, I’d have my friends back.

All of them.

When she laughed at something I said mid-way through the meal, and her gaze met mine across the table, I offered her an apologetic smile and she gave me a subtle nod.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Maybe, when I showed my face again at Reed Tower tomorrow morning, she wouldn’t completely ignore me.

About two hours before my next shift at White Rabbit, my mom knocked on the bedroom door, then went ahead and let herself in as if I didn’t have any right to privacy even though I’d been without her for the past five years.

“You need to eat something.”

“Not hungry.”

She walked to my bed and set a plate of toast smothered in butter down beside a steaming cup of potato soup—that most likely had enough cream added to it to put weight on a rock.

“Mom,” I said, “I’mfine.”

She raised her eyebrows, but didn’t say anything.

Speaking the thought would bring it to life, and neither of us wanted to do that.

So I sat up and shoved the toast into my mouth, taking a huge bite and chewing dramatically for her.

She gave me a sarcastic smile and sat down on the bed beside me, then raised her eyebrows. She wasn’t going anywhere until I finished the meal.

Nothing had changed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked as I took another bite.

“Food?” I said around a mouthful of sourdough. “Not really.”

My appetite had been minimal since I ended things with Cabot. I guessed when someone’s life fell apart, eating lost its luster. A small voice in the back of my mind nagged at me to eat, but I ignored it like I always did when I was young. Food didn’ttasteanymore, and every time I ate, my stomach cramped. So what was the point? Once my life got back to normal, so would my appetite.

“You know you can’t skip meals, RJ.”

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