Total pages in book: 186
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
The Soirée. A final night meant to bring the closure of the game with enough ceremony to pacify the faculty and whoever else played behind the curtains.
“Yeah, it can’t last forever,” I repeated for my own benefit. But as the words left my mouth, I didn’t fully believe them.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SANJANA
Every Wednesday, everyone headed to the Nest. It was our own little Crowsfell tradition. Far less twisted than The Hunt, and one of the only things that still felt halfway normal after the past few days. We’d just pulled out of the campus parking lot, the field lights glowing behind us like a stage. I drove for once. Roxxi rode shotgun. Layla was in the backseat, arms folded, chin tilted toward the window. I didn’t remember inviting her to ride with us, but my mind had been too distracted to notice much, and I wasn’t petty enough to tell her she couldn’t come.
She hadn’t said a word since we left the locker room. Beside me, Roxxi was unnervingly quiet too. Ari, Cloe, and Olivia were already on their way. Brit had gone with her boyfriend, Ethan, one of the wide receivers, and a friend of Ryder and Cade. Ashton had his own car full, saving me from a confrontation I wasn’t ready for. So that left just the three of us. Rolling out together in a car thick with unsaid things.
Halfway there, Layla finally spoke. Her voice was tentative, small. “I know I’ve been acting weird lately. I’ve always kind of felt like the outsider in the group, and it’s starting to get to me.”
Roxxi didn’t lift her head to acknowledge her.
Layla went on. “You guys have been close for years. A family with history. I don’t have that or the money. It’s not an excuse, but I get jealous.”
I felt her gaze pressing into the back of our heads, searching for understanding.
“I wasn’t trying to start anything,” she added, softer. “I just didn’t know how to deal with feeling left out.”
Roxxi laughed. “Why does it always come back to that with you?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this right now,” I suggested.
“Oh, we’re doing it,” Roxxi quipped. “Layla, how do you have relationships with anyone? I’m genuinely curious how you make it through a single day at Crowsfell. Everyone has money, even you. I have more, that’s what it boils down to, right?” She turned in her seat to address her head on. “I’m not going to apologize for being born wealthy. I’m not sorry for being a materialistic bitch. I like luxurious shit and spoiling myself and my friends.”
She stopped and took a breath.
“I’m also humble enough to live in an off-campus house with three other girls and love it, eat a biggie bag deal when I’m hungover, and go thrifting because it’s fun.” She paused and, when Layla made no attempt to interrupt, kept going. “You’re the one who keeps acting like there’s a divide. You treat it like we’re different, and you’re the one above it all. And you say you’re our friend—Sanj’s friend—but then you pull petty, underhanded shit because you’re insecure. That’s not friendship, Layla. You don’t get to twist your wrongs into misunderstandings.”
“I don’t try to--.”
“Let me finish, this next part is important. Are you listening?”
I caught Layla’s nod in the rearview.
“Good, because I want you to know that I’m not accepting that gaslighting-ass apology.”
Layla didn’t respond, sinking deeper into the seat, as if she made herself small enough, she could disappear. I kept my eyes on the road, unsure whether I was more relieved or rattled. I hadn’t realized how much Roxxi had picked up on, or how much I’d needed someone to say all of that out loud.
The rest of the ride passed in heavy quiet, the radio filling the void. As I pulled into the parking lot of the diner, I saw we were cutting it close. Rows of gleaming luxury cars already claimed most of the spaces, peppered with a few modest rides wedged in between. The whole polaroid incident had derailed everything.
The Nest was always packed, but since it was Wednesday, that was to be expected. It had become the unofficial post-practice hangout for Crowsfell’s elite—football, hockey, basketball, and almost every other athletic organization except for our swing band. That was more than enough to draw the rest of the university like moths to a flame. No one liked to admit it, but clout ruled here just as much as it did in high school. It hadn’t died out. It merely got more expensive.
I’d never fed into the stereotypes. Layla had called us the ‘It’ girls the other day. I hated the label as much as Roxxi did. I didn’t want to be known for who I chose to befriend or what I had in my bank account. When things flipped, and they always did, I didn’t want to be remembered as a stuck-up bitch who peaked at twenty and fell off hard.