Chase: A Devil & his Birdie: Havenwood University Book Two

Chapter 20

MY HANDS ARE FISTED at my side and my fingernails dig into my palms. I crash into my dressing room after speed walking the whole length of backstage to flee the scene. To get away from the embarrassment. I can’t believe I thought that would work. I’m so stupid.

I sang my heart out and gave it my all singing T. Swift’s This is Me Trying and then blew that boy a kiss in front of a packed house and he just sat there frozen like an iceberg. I really thought he would’ve reacted, given me some indication that I’m not dreaming all this up.

I know what it’s like to get up on a stage and perform. I’ve lost more than I’ve won, but this, this is humiliating. This hurts more than losing a crown or a title. I feel like a damn fool. I lean my head against the vanity counter and bang my forehead against it, trying to knock some sense into myself.

My phone buzzes with Evie’s name flashing across the screen as her messages pour in. I catch one that simply says, “He’s an idiot, a total idiot.” No, it’s me; I’m the idiot.

I can’t bear to look at myself in the dressing room mirror and swivel my chair to face the wall. I blot my wet eyes with a tissue and wipe away tears and streaks of mascara.

Mama would pinch me over and over if she was here to witness how badly I just embarrassed myself. She used to do it to punish me when I acted up or lost a competition and I can feel her phantom touch twisting up the skin on my triceps.

I can hear her loud and clear in my head telling me how disgraceful I am. The one thing I’m awfully good at is making a fool outta the Higgins name and right now is no different.

My breathing is shallow and my heart is beating outta my chest as the tears fall. I’m so upset with myself. You’re such a disgrace! I don’t wanna feel like this for another second. I just want this all to go away. He didn’t clap or hoot and holler. He just sat and stared.

A strangled noise rips outta me and I slam my fists down on my knees. I feel my belly churning as the acid rises up in my throat. I feel outta control like I’m coming apart at the seams.

I grab my makeup bag and rummage through for the razor I used earlier. I dig between piles of cosmetics until I feel the edge of the blade with my fingertips. I don’t hesitate or think twice.

I gather up the hem of my dress and yank it up around my hips. I hold my breath as I pull the skin of my inner thigh tightly against my leg and jab the corner of the razor into my flesh and drag it through my skin. The blade bites and I hiss out the breath I was holding. It hurts more than when I usually cut. But then again, everything hurts a helluva lot right now.

“You’re such a damn fool, thinkin’ that would work on him,” I chastise myself, and continue cutting for nearly four inches. It hurts so good. The relief is instant and I lean against the back of the chair, shutting my eyes as more tears fall.

“He probably thinks I’m ridiculous,” I tell myself and wipe away the pooling blood with another tissue. The blood smears across my angry-looking skin.

The knock on the door has me jumping up and tugging my dress down to cover my freshly cut thigh. I feel blood running down my leg over my nude thigh highs.

“Open up, Sloaney, it’s me.” My brother’s voice has guilt washing over every inch of me. It hits me so hard, I have to reach out to grab the back of the chair to steady myself.

I turn toward the mirror and use a fresh tissue to wipe my face and quickly throw the blade into my makeup bag before zipping it shut and throwing it in my tote. I gather up my dress and pull it up before stuffing crumpled-up tissues in the band of my tights to trap the blood from making an even bigger mess.

“One sec,” I call out to the closed door and take a deep breath. He’s gonna know. I hear the handle jiggle followed by another knock. He’s running outta patience and I’m outta time to get myself together. I paste a plastic smile on my face, flip my hair over my shoulders, and reach to open the door.

“There you are, everythin’ okay?” He asks and barges his way in before I can properly answer or invite him in.

“Sure, come on in why don’t ya.” I shut the door and his eyes take in the small dressing room. I cross my arms over my chest to keep everything locked up tight.

“You didn’t answer my question, you doin’ okay?” Now he looks me over and narrows his eyes. I swear it’s like he’s got a sixth sense when I cut myself. “And don’t bother lying, I know you, Sloaney, you just put your heart on the line out there. If you were, okay you wouldn’t have ran off that stage like your ass was on fire.”

“I’m fine,” I tell him through a fake grin, water-filled eyes, and a wobbly chin.

“Come ‘ere,” he says with a sigh and opens up his arms for me to fall into.

“That was mighty brave of you to get up there and sing like ya did,” he says into the top of my head while I cry.

“You mean mighty stupid,” I correct him and sniffle into his red and black football sweatshirt.

“I’m guessin’ you didn’t get the response you wanted from him?” He asks and maneuvers me so I sit down in the chair. He plucks a tissue from the square box on the vanity and hands it over.

“He looked like an ice sculpture, it was downright humiliatin’. I made a fool outta myself for all to see,” I tell him before burying my face into my hands.

“Do you need to go back out there or can I take ya home?” He asks and as much as I want to go home and never leave my apartment again, I need to go out there for the final bow.

“I have to get out there, but afterward can we leave? I don’t feel like going to the after-party.”

“You got it, Sloaney,” He gives me a hard look and I know he’s waiting for me to admit what I’ve done. I can’t though. I promised him I’d try to deal with my emotions differently, and here I am cutting twice in one night.

“Just so you know, it took a lot of guts to get up there and tell that hockey player how ya feel.”

“And now I feel ridiculous for it. It was impulsive and I didn’t think it through. I thought it would’ve had more of an impact on him, instead he didn’t move a muscle. Hell, he didn’t react at all.”

“Maybe you shocked him, Sloaney. Not everyone would have the balls to do that, I sure as hell don’t,” he says with a head nod. “Tell whoever’s in charge of this thing that I’m gonna wait back here for ya. I’ll let you get ready and wait out here.” He reaches for the door handle to see himself out.

The click of the door closing is loud and the silence in the room is deafening. I’m certain he knows. That look he gave me all but confirmed it.

No matter how many times I cut and tell him I’m gonna do better, he continues to trust me to make better choices. To cope with these feelings differently. He’s just hoping I don’t do it again. And most of the time, I do too.

I take a long sip of water and try to swallow down everything about tonight. The shameful cutting, the inflated confidence I had, my unrequited feelings for that boy, and the epic embarrassment that awaits me. It’s all so unsettling that my stomach cramps.

I walk with Davis toward the stage wings and tell one of the producers that he’s gonna wait for me and drag him to a standing area off to the side. A makeup artist does her best to fix my face but the waterworks have left me looking like a raccoon.

I wait for my cue and take my place on stage, digging my nails into my palms again, and telling myself that I’m not gonna look over at the second row. I fail miserably and immediately look for him. But he’s not there and my heart sinks to the orchestra pit underneath the stage. I don’t see Evie or Hunter either. The three of them are gone and it has me raising my eyebrows in curiosity.

I curtsey on cue with the rest of the company and hear a high-pitched whistle and loads of clapping and yelling. The support of the program by the audience is heartwarming. We’ve all worked so hard. I give myself a moment to take it all in and smile for the crowd while waving before the curtain falls.

With the Wilton triplet-sized hole in the second row, I have a direct view of the frat brothers who were sitting behind them. At least I’m assuming that’s who they are by their matching hats and jackets. And one of them is most definitely Will.

He’s standing up, clapping his hands, and whistling. He acknowledges me with a smooth wink. There’s a look on his face that I know all too well. He’s looking at me the way the boys back in Georgia looked at me. Like they would have something to gain.

He gives me a two-fingered salute and a toothy smile that I bet makes all the girls feel like they’re special. I could see it. He’s handsome, well-put-together, and terribly charming. I bet loads of women want his attention. And right now, he’s giving it all to me.