Chapter 30
Serena
“I’m not going unless you go.”
Rue's flat-out statement makes me feel bad that I’m hesitating.
It’s Wednesday. Five days have passed since my breakdown, and I feel fine.
I wouldn’t say great, but I’m normal for me.
By all accounts, I should want to go out, but there is something stopping me.
I think I'd be fine if it were just Rue and me. We’ve been to lunch, we've been to the movies and shopping, but as soon as she said Macy had invited us out for drinks, I’ve shut down again.
I don’t think I’m ready to be around people in the sense of having to smile and pretend.
“Go. I’ll be fine.”
“No. It’s not that I don’t think you’ll not be fine, I just don’t want to go and have fun while you’re sitting here on your own. That makes me a sucky friend.”
“No, it makes you a normal human. You’ve been holed up with me for days. Go and have some fun.”
“Nope.”
“God, has anyone ever told you what a pain in the ass you are?”
“Not for a while, so say it again.” Her wicked smirk makes me laugh out loud.
“You are a giant pain in the ass.”
“Ah, and my work here is done.”
“Fine,” I grumble. “I’ll go. But the second I want to go home, I’m going. No questions, no cajoling, just me going home.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Where to?”
“Belmont’s. It’s her favorite place because she always manages to find someone to hook up with there.”
“Fair enough.” My heart nearly shatters at the mention of hooking up.
I want to hook up with Logan so badly, it almost brings tears to my eyes.
But I have to forget about him. Even Rue has to believe that I’m over him.
I hate deceiving her, but Quen scared me more than I’ve ever been in my life.
More so even than when Mr. Todd had his hands all over me.
I’m not sure what that says about my haunted past, or about my uncle, or even about me, but his words were…
chilling. He left me in no doubt that he would follow through and hurt Logan, kill him if I didn’t stay away. So here’s me, staying away.
“Okay, so we need to talk.” Rue stands up and starts to pace. “Are we over the whole Logan thing? Because if we are, then we need to find someone you can have some fun with.”
I love her ‘we,’ but this is decidedly the worst idea ever.
“No, Rue. I don’t have fun.”
“Because you aren’t over Logan? And I don’t mean fun. I mean, you know, dates and food and laughs.”
I have to admit, it sounds nice. It’s never not been something nice.
I want it. I want to live and have fun, but I need love before I have fun.
I’m pretty sure I love Logan. It’s different from how it was with my ex.
He was familiar, and we fell into a relationship from being friends first. With Logan, it’s the exact opposite.
It’s wild and all-encompassing. It’s brutal and gut-wrenching. Savage and seductive.
“I am over Logan,” I say steadily. “It was this weird thing, and now it’s done. I can’t be with him, so what’s the point, right?”
“Right.” She doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.
“So, I accept your offer to find me some fun.”
Her slightly surprised look tells me everything I’ve done in the last few days to convince her Logan is no more has been fruitless.
“I’m going home to get something to wear. Will you be okay on your own for a bit?”
“Yes, Mom,” I snicker. “Go, do your thing. I’ll be here, trying to find something to wear.” And trying to convince myself to pull money out of the savings account to pay for this night out.
With a firm nod, after some bustling about to make sure I have food and drinks at my disposal, she leaves, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Not because I don’t love her, but because I’m exhausted at playing the I’m Okay game. I mean, I am okay about life in general, but not about Logan.
Stumbling into my bedroom, I allow the tears of frustration and longing to pour out, my ugly sobbing over having pent up all of this with the added fear and uncertainty about who my parents are or aren’t, floods from my soul as I flop face down on the bed.
I haven’t spoken to my parents in days. And I don’t want to.
I don’t want my mom to know about this incident, and I don’t want to speak to her because I will blurt out if she’s raising me as her daughter when I’m really her niece.
Pulling myself together after more minutes than I’d like, I wash my face in the bathroom sink, smiling at Rue’s cosmetics strewn all over the tiny counter.
Needing to do this for her and for me, I march back into the bedroom and throw the closet doors open, searching for something, anything that will look cute but cover up the hideous scars on my arms. They usually don’t bother me so much, but then I’ve never had a reason to hide them before.
I know Rue says she’s okay with seeing them, but I’ve been in long sleeves for the last few days since I removed the bandages to save her from having to look at them.
Almost as if I’m compelled to look at them now, I remove my top and glare at the offending marks that make finding something to wear extra difficult in my meager wardrobe.
Eventually, I land on a black, bell-sleeved top with laces at the cleavage that is about five years old and a denim skirt that I forgot all about buying at a market a few years back. It’s not the best, but I’ll look okay.
Digging out my flat, black ankle boots, I’m happy with them so I don’t look too sexy in heels. I don’t want to draw too much attention to myself because I really don’t want to have any unnecessary conversations. I also hope I don’t run into Paul again.
A few hours later, after a leisurely shower and getting myself ready, Rue returns to collect me and drop off her overnight bag filled to the brim with fresh clothes.
“When you want to leave, say the word, and we’ll go,” she says, hooking her arm through mine as we head out to the taxi.
“Thanks. You look hot.”
“So do you.”
She doesn’t draw attention to the sleeves, we just climb into the taxi and head off to the bar, where Macy is already engaging in some hooking up of the tamer variety with a bunch of guys who are fawning all over her, Suz and Tiff.
Exchanging a slightly nervous glare with Rue, we stride over and immediately find ourselves the center of attention with drinks being thrust at us, compliments thrown our way, and lusty looks through hooded eyes.
But none of it means anything to me because Logan isn’t here.