Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lainey
Istare at myself in the mirror, running my fingers through my freshly dyed hair, and even after the night I’ve had, the pink color makes me giddy. While I made the decision to dye my hair pink weeks ago, it’s been a long and slow process because of my previously dark hair, and I’m happy to finally have the color I wanted. I feel like a new person, and I needed that today.
This week has been hellish. Actually, it’s been a few weeks. But tonight was the icing on the cake. After spending the better part of the day getting slammed by some unfriendly text messages from my old Jaiton classmates, I had to spend my evening at work, dishing out fake smiles, while Thomas’s team was losing their playoff game. To make matters worse, I had several missed calls and a message staring up at me when I was finally able to check my phone. It’s not that I think it would have made any difference to Thomas if I was watching, but I hate that I couldn’t support him, even from the sidelines. And more than that, I hate that I wasn’t there for him when he needed me. Like I promised myself I would be.
Guilt eats away at me on my drive home, and when I finally walk in the door after what felt like the longest shift of my life, I come face-to-face, or rather face to Heath’s naked ass as he pounds into some girl on our kitchen counter.
“Jesus! Fuck. I’m so sorry.” I shield my eyes as I spin around, but the image stays at the forefront of my mind, burned into my retina.
Heath’s taken to bringing women home most weekends and making sure they’re as loud as physically possible, overexaggerating his “noises” so I’m forced to hear everything.
But this is a first.
And while I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt that he didn’t think I’d be home yet, I’m still shocked. The woman gasps, mimicking my feelings, but instead of apologizing—to either of us—for the accidental peep show, Heath laughs. Actually, it’s more like a sadistic cackle. So maybe no accident at all.
I try hard to ignore him, but as I blindly walk past, he grabs my sleeve and pulls me to a stop. “Did you enjoy the game?” he mocks. “What a shame Seattle didn’t make it.”
What. The. Hell?
I shake him off as bile rises in my throat. How is that girl not pissed off at him?
Without a word, I walk away, not giving him the satisfaction of an answer, holding back my physical reaction until I’m locked away in my room.
Then I shiver like a ghost just passed through me.
I need to leave, plain and simple, but I’m only here for another few months, and the rent is too good to let go of. So…not so plain or simple at all. If I go out on my own, I’ll be paying more than double what I currently pay, and I can’t afford that.
I know he’s pissed about Thomas—he’s made that clear by the way he keeps mentioning Luke and how he thinks it’s time they became friends again. But I also know his threats are harmless. It’s been weeks now since he first accused me of messing around with Thomas, and he hasn’t said a word. Still it’s bothering me all the same.
But while I can’t afford to leave, what I can do is handle Heath.
Yes, he’s driving me crazy, but he’s not causing any emotional damage. I don’t care enough to let it truly affect me; it’s just annoying.
Kicking off my shoes, I lie down on my bed just as my phone vibrates again, and without looking, I know who it’s going to be, and I know who it’s not going to be—Thomas. He gave up on me after I missed his calls. This message is undoubtedly one of my old classmates, letting me know they’re still around.
Though my gran isn’t speaking to me, I’ve recently discovered she’s still defending me in the background. And by that, I mean that she’s making things difficult for the girls that contributed to my downfall. Namely, the ones that thought no one knew what they’d done. The ones convinced they got away with it by getting others to do their bidding. To rattle me. But while they may not have directly contributed to trying to break me, I knew what they’d done.
It didn’t take much to put the pieces together, and it looks like others have figured it out too. Including my gran.
Now they’re sending me messages in an attempt to unnerve me.
Unknown: Do you really want to play it this way?
Unknown: Poor Lainey. Couldn’t hack it so you ran and had Granny pick up the pieces.
And my favorite…
Unknown: If you’re not careful, you’ll never dance again.
Because they think that’s what I want… I haven’t so much as twirled since I left that place, and I have no current plans to try. Except with Thomas. Somehow he manages to change things for me, and I haven’t decided whether that’s a good thing or bad thing.
Pretending I don’t have butterflies settling around my middle, I read the latest text and roll my eyes.
Unknown: You need to make her stop.
If only I had any say in what my gran did, but sorry, “friends”…I don’t.
This isn’t the first time I’ve received messages like this, and just like with Heath’s threats, I ignore them. I took away their power to hurt me when I hurt myself, and now, I no longer care. It’s just one thing after another. I can’t catch a freaking break and I’m over it. I’ve got more important things to worry about, and I’d much prefer to be doing that.
I swipe out of that text message and open Thomas’s chat instead. If it wasn’t four in the morning for him, I’d return his call, but for now a text message will have to do.
As I contemplate what to write, his voicemail plays on repeat in my mind.
Today sucked and I’ve had way too much to drink. But I miss you. And fuck I need you right now.
The butterflies turn to a sharp pang as I think about his drinking. I’m terrified it’s a problem, but also worried that if I ask, he’ll push me away again. Right now, the best way I can help him is to be there for him, however he needs me, and as a trade-off, helping him takes my mind off my own issues, so it’s a win-win.
Lainey: I need you too. Let’s talk when you wake up.
My stomach rumbles before I’ve even opened my eyes, and I groan at the inconvenience of food, not really wanting to go anywhere near the tainted kitchen. After checking my phone—to no new messages—I throw on a winter dress and tiptoe down the hall, breathing a sigh of relief that Heath’s door is closed until the woman from last night comes into view.
My nostrils flare as an unwanted image comes to the surface while the woman smiles. I almost turn away without acknowledging her existence until I notice she’s drinking out of Heath’s favorite black mug—the mug he claims he loves because it matches my hair. At least, it used to. Maintaining a straight face, I tuck some pink strands behind my ears before folding my arms across my chest.
“I hope you and Heath plan to clean the kitchen before you leave today. No matter how mediocre the sex was, it’s still dirty.”
Biting back a laugh, I walk away with a bounce in my step, feeling a little self-satisfied with my reaction. Three and a half months. I take a deep breath. Three and a half months and I’m gone. I just have to keep myself distracted until then.