Page 51 of The Other Half

“Might as well take advantage of the private school education if your parents can afford it. Most people can’t.”

I shrug, trying to think of a way to escape this conversation quickly.

“What are you going to study?” he asks.

“I’m not sure, maybe history.”

He looks halfway impressed. “Really? Me too. I’m hoping to become a lawyer. What about you?”

“I’m not sure, I might go into teaching.”

He snickers. “Well, that’ll be fine as long as you get your MRS degree, too.”

This guy has some nerve. “What?” I feign confusion.

He shrugs. “I mean, teachers make shit money, especially in the south.” He says it like I’m crazy for even considering a teaching career. Of course that would be his reaction.

I see our mothers making their way back through the crowd to us. My mom hands me another glass of eggnog when she returns, and this time I take a long swig right away.

“It was good to see you,” I say, turning on my heel and heading into the crowd of bodies before anyone can stop me. I hear my mom call my name behind me, but I ignore it.

I sit down at an empty table on the other side of the room and keep nursing my eggnog, noticing it’s nearly gone. I feel the alcohol starting to seep through my veins now. My body feels lighter and warmer.

I pull out my phone and swipe to reveal the one unread message.

Amber: I’m bored, let’s hang out

Every time I get a message I silently hope it’s from Oliver, but it never is. I’ve tried texting him a couple times just to thank him for defending me at that party, and he never responds. At this point I think it’s safe to assume he blocked my number. He’s also made it a point to completely ignore my existence at school.

I know I shouldn’t even be thinking about him after what he did to me, but I’m worried about him. I’m worried about his whole family, especially Liam. Even though Oliver turned out to be a dick, I’ll always care about him. I hate that our friendship couldn’t be salvaged at least.

I tap out a reply to Amber and I polish off the last of my drink.

Me: Can’t tonight, at this boring party with my parents.

I slip my phone back into my clutch and stand up. I feel a rush to my head, and suddenly feel a tad bit dizzy. I look around for my parents but they’re lost somewhere in this room full of bodies. The faces are kind of all blurring together.

I walk into the bathroom, stumbling through the doorway. There’s no one in here, much to my relief. I think I’m pretty drunk now, so I’m wondering if I’ll throw up. I know most people do the first time they get super drunk.

I look in the mirror at myself. My mom bought me this dress at Neiman Marcus while she was in Atlanta. It’s the opposite of my style, super low cut, exposing the little bit of cleavage I have, and curve hugging. I always go for loose, flowy dresses that conceal the shape of my body.

I have to admit, though, I look decent considering how shitty I feel. Or maybe I just think so because I’m drunk. Everyone looks more attractive when you’re drunk, so I guess that would include yourself?

I pull out my phone and snap a few photos of myself in the mirror. I hardly ever take selfies, and when I do I usually don’t upload them anywhere. I’ve never been big on using social media.

I shrug off my cardigan and pull my dress down more so that my boobs are on full display, and I snap a selfie with my front camera.

I wish everyone could see me right now. Amber would be impressed. Rodney would probably be laughing his ass off, like he always is, at how I can barely stand up straight. I miss hanging out with all of them, for a second there I almost felt like I had a solid friend group.

I send the photo to everyone in my contacts and slide the phone back into my purse. I stumble out of the bathroom and back into the ballroom.

Chapter 40

Oliver

Is she trying to fucking kill me? I stare at the photo that just popped up in my messages, no caption attached, no explanation. Just a selfie of Oakley with her perfect tits nearly hanging out of a tight, red dress. Her body looks slightly different, a little bit curvier almost, but still just as perfect as it ever was.

I hate that my dick instantly got hard when I opened the message. I was expecting another “hi” message like the other three she’s sent me that I’ve ignored. At this point I’m not even mad at her, I’m just mad at myself for getting involved with her in the first place. For falling in love with a girl I knew I couldn’t have. The best thing I can possibly do is let her move on, go off to college, and forget about me.

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