Page 4 of Devil's Bargain

Not my best look.

“Just some shit at home.” I don’t know why I’m so reluctant to tell her the truth, but I am.

She pats her black bob down and then turns to face me. “You need to eat!”

“I will.”

“You will?”

I push off the counter. “Fuck, can you get off my case! I have some shit going on at home. Stop fucking worrying!”

Nina looks hurt before slamming her mask back into place. I regret my comment the second it slips from my lips, but it’s too late. It’s out there, hovering in the space between us.

She nods once and walks out. “Fine. As you wish!”

“Nina!” I call after her, but she doesn’t stop, and I don’t follow her. I push down on the sink and take a deep breath, my eyes stinging with unshed tears.

My head falls between my shoulders. The roof has a big ugly brown stain from an old leak.

I hurt my best friend with my comment…

“Fuck!” I groan, snatching my bag off the sink. My reflection looks as exhausted as I feel. I need to sort this shit out somehow.

When I leave the bathroom, I find Matt waiting for me outside. His eyes follow a cheerleader.

“See something you like?”

He tears his gaze away, albeit reluctantly. “Now I do!”

I roll my eyes. “You couldn’t come up with a cheesier line?”

He takes my bag. “You look tired.”

We join the stream of students on their way to class. “I said something I shouldn’t have.”

“I figured as much when I saw Nina run out of there.”

I cringe, sidestepping a group of girls. “I feel bad!”

“Just talk to her and apologize.”

“I will.”

He hands me my bag and hitches his thumb over his shoulder. “I have art class. I’m heading back that way.”

“Thanks for carrying my bag.”

“We’re friends, April. I’m here if you need to talk.”

A teasing smile plays over my lips. “To talk or fuck?”

He runs a hand through his hair and ruffles the blonde strands. “Either.”

“Thanks, I’ll bear that in mind.” I step into the classroom and make my way between the cramped tables to my usual seat.

Nina doesn’t look up from her phone when I put my bag on the table.

I pull the chair out and plop down. Then drum my nails on the desk. “I’m sorry!”

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