All I could picture during it was my father being carted away too many times. I watched him get guided out of our old house, court rooms, visitation rooms, and eventually, the funeral home. How many times did I need to relive that torture, that emotional discord, just to get other people to see that I was a victim too?
When I saw that C in the corner of the paper in bold red ink and a circle around it, I felt defeated. Shattered. Maybe I should have talked to her, tried arguing for a better grade or asking why she’d given me that one at the very least because it wasn’t like I took an approach that was questioning her belief system. If anything, I was agreeing with her about how screwed up our justice system worked. I couldn’t though. I was tired of chasing after people for answers.
Logically, I knew the paper was thought out and researched and edited so many times the facts were drilled into my brain. Ribbons didn’t like me, and whatever potential she said I had was gone. Maybe it was non-existent to begin with. And when Theo had woken up in the middle of the night to find me working on the paper in the living room, he’d told me something that I’d only agreed with after getting the paper back. “Why bother obsessing over impressing her, Della? You should never waste your time on people who are set on misunderstanding you.”
He’d been right. Again. I didn’t tell him that though and told him to go back to bed instead. Theo, of course, didn’t listen. He sat on the opposite end of the couch with his feet propped on the coffee table, the TV on the lowest volume, and Ramsay curled on his chest. He’d fallen asleep keeping me company while I finished proofreading the paper.
It was Ren who pointed out, “You still got a B- in that class. I know people on the team who took it and walked out with Cs and Ds despite studying their asses off. Tommy, you remember him right? He was the guy who…” He winced. Tommy had been the guy at the frat house who’d noticed I was acting off. After being drugged, presumably. “Anyway, he’s a political science major and said all her classes were tough.”
“Doesn’t Ribbons hate everyone?” That came from Tiffany, who wasn’t completely wrong. It seemed like she disliked me more thanks to my bloodline.
“Yeah, well…” I shook it off, brushing a hand down my face and curling hair behind my ear. “It doesn’t matter. I care about my grades and doing well.” And making everybody like you even though it’s humanly impossible.
“You’re such a nerd,” Ren chuckled when he saw my disgruntled expression. He downed his last drink and looked around as a few women eyed him from the table over.
Tiffany noticed too, making a face at him like she couldn’t believe he was even giving them his bedroom eyes. “What’s going on with you and what’s his face? You guys aren’t tickling each other’s fancies anymore?”
I smiled at her pretending she didn’t know Ben’s name but hid it behind my glass when she eyed me with a narrowed gaze in warning.
Ren flashed her a sultry smile. “It wasn’t our fancies we were tickling on each other, baby. Why, are you jealous?”
The gagging came instantly from both me and Tiffany, but mostly from her. I wasn’t sure what to think about them. They’d become fast friends but flirted more times than I think they realized. It was cute…and maybe a little weird. Only because Tiffany was insistent that she and Ren were nothing more than friends and never would be. And Ren…well, he hadn’t offered me his opinion on what he thought about Tiffany, which left a lot to interpretation.
“You wish, Lawrence. I’m not keen on catching an STD anytime soon, but thanks.”
A palm flew to his chest. “Ouch.”
I shook my head at both their theatrics, focusing on Ren again. “So, is that guy over there the new flavor?” I’d felt bad for asking in front of Tiffany, but I think she wanted to know even if she wouldn’t admit it.
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Decided redheads were my thing.”
My lips twitched. “Not shocking. Weren’t the actors who played the Weasley twins your first real crushes?”
“Wasn’t yours an anime character?” he shot back defensively.
I laughed. “I wasn’t being mean I was pointing out that it’s no surprise.”
Tiffany grumbled out something about another drink before heading toward the bar.
“What’s her deal?” he asked, leaning against the spot she’d been at.
“You’re so stupid.”
He had the nerve to look offended.
“She likes you, Ren.”
The noise he made sounded like a cross between a grunt and dying chicken. “What the hell are you talking about?”
We both looked over at where Tiffany waited by the bar. A few guys had also been staring, one of them walking over to her and leaning down to say something that she didn’t seem to appreciate based on the scowl. “It’s pretty obvious. Then again, you’re always busy scoping out other people to notice.”
“She’s…” He frowned, looking back at me with something that resembled sympathy. “I just don’t think she’s my type. She makes a great friend. It’s not like I don’t like her.”
“You just don’t like her like that,” I said, nodding sadly. “I get it. We can’t force ourselves to like people if the spark isn’t there.”
“Sounds like you’ve tried, Del.”
I nibbled on my bottom lip, fighting off a small smile. “I mean, I did sleep with you.”
The laugh that burst from him caught way more attention than I wanted. “Oh, shit. Shots fired.” He downed the rest of his drink and shook his head. “So, it’s really him, huh?”
I knew who he meant. “Do you wish it’d been you?” I also knew that wasn’t what he was implying.
His sigh was lighthearted. “Nah. If I wasn’t such
