Chapter 50
I blink back my tears as I back out of my driveway. I’m trying so hard to steady my breath. The vodka bottle sits on the floor in my passenger seat. Not the smartest idea right now.
I drive down the street, the city lights flickering toward me.
I feel a little buzzed, but not the kind that leaves me struggling to focus.
It’s more of a high, like an adrenaline high shooting through my veins.
It’s making everything feel sharper. Like I’m on the edge of something.
Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just the eagerness to see my friends.
Whatever it is, it’s making my heart beat a little faster.
My hands grip the wheel tighter. I’m not drunk, not by a long shot.
My eyes are alert. I’m focused on every car that passes me by. I’m good.
I roll into the parking lot. Turn my car off and hide the bottle underneath my seat. I slide out of my car, square my shoulders, and head for the bar.
I swing the door open and hand the guy my ID as I scan for my friends. He looks over it, then back at me and asks, “Are you okay?”
“I will be,” I say harshly.
“Okay, go ahead.”
I catch sight of Rya’s blonde hair swaying with her body as she laughs.
They’re sitting at a high-top table; her back is facing me.
Ezra is sitting across from Rya and their two friends are across from each other.
I quicken my pace, my strides growing longer.
I reach their table. Ezra’s eyes shoot up when he sees me.
I reach out. Grab her hair, twist it around my fist, and yank her down.
She goes flying off the chair like a limp Barbie doll.
“What the fuck?” she screams in a high-pitched voice. Her hands fly up and she wraps them around mine. Her eyes are wide in shock when she realizes it’s me.
I reach for the pitcher of beer sitting on the table and dump it on her face.
“Violet, what the fuck are you doing?” Ezra yells.
So many gasps fill the air around me. Ezra comes around me, grabbing my arms, trying to stop me.
“Don’t touch me, Ezra,” I say, my jaw clenched tight.
“Let her go. What has gotten into you?”
I look down at Rya; she’s choking back the beer. “Tell him, Rya,” I snap in her face. I look up at Ezra. “You’re going to want to hear this.”
His grip on my arm loosens up a bit. His squinted eyes look down at Rya.
“You crazy bitch. What the fuck are you doing?” Rya yells, still trying to catch her breath from choking on the beer.
“Tell him,” I yell louder, stopping the music in the bar.
To my surprise, no worker has stopped me. No bouncer has come to her rescue.
I wrap my hand tighter around her hair as she struggles to get up. I yank her hair down more and she flops down, struggling to stand with her stupid-ass Louis Vuitton shoes.
“Violet, let her go,” Ezra says, gripping me harder, reaching down, trying to loosen my grip on her hair.
“Tell him, Rya.” I shake her head. “Tell him how big of a slut you are.”
Ezra’s grip loosens on my hands. His body goes rigid as those words hit his ears. His gaze freezes over Rya.
Her eyes quickly shoot up to meet his. “Babe, it’s not what you think.”
“What’s going on?” Ezra asks her. His hands release his grip on me.
“Babe, you know I love you, right?” she says.
He stands up straight, looking between me and her.
“What the fuck did you do, Rya?” he snaps.
“I slept with Zayn,” she whispers.
His face drains of color, his jaw clenches, and his hands ball into fists at his sides as he stands frozen.
“You stupid bitch. How about you tell us how many times?” I yell in her face. Gripping her hair tighter, I bring her up to standing.
She groans in pain, trying to get free of my hold. I release her hair. She steps closer to Ezra, arms out as if she’s going in for a hug.
He backs away from her. “How many times?” he asks, glaring at her. The softness that he carries in his eyes is gone. A softness I never thought could disappear from a man like him.
“Ezra, please,” she says, reaching out to him again.
He swipes her hands away from him, making her stumble into the person sitting next to her. That man scoots his chair quickly away from her, arms shooting up as if he’s going to get an STD from her.
“How many times?” he snaps.
“I don’t know,” she says, shaking her head, tears streaming down her face.
“A lot?” he questions.
She hangs her head.
“Okay, you guys need to leave,” the bartender yells.
Wow, it took that long for them to interfere.
“Now!” he yells, pointing to the door.
I shake my head at her in disbelief as she stares back at me with a regretful look on her face. I stare back at her, waiting for any kind of excuse.
Something.
Anything.
But she stands silent, staring back at me with tears pooling from her eyes. Not even an apology comes out of her.
My so-called best friend. The one person I shared so much with, pretty much my entire life, is the one that betrayed me.
And to think I went to her for support with everything that was happening.
I cried to her. And all along it was her.
An ache spreads through me as my mind goes back to all the times I kept questioning my own sanity.
All the times she made me feel like I was going crazy, too.
All the times she consoled me, she said, “Zay would never cheat on you.” I want to scream at her.
I want to demand answers. But what for? I already know the truth.
I know more than she probably thinks. She can’t stand here acting like she regrets it.
She only regrets that she got caught. If she truly regretted what she did, she would have told me the first time it happened.
To know the first time it happened was on our Vegas trip.
A trip she wanted to go on for our thirtieths.
Was this her plan? Was this both of their plans?
It was those two who wanted to go to Vegas so badly.
She made this choice. They both did. And now everything is about to change.
I rush out the door, shoulder-swiping Ezra as I make my way out. I hear Rya call out. “Ezra, where are you going?”
I look over my shoulder at Ezra following behind me, and so is Rya.
I jog faster to my car because whatever is about to go down between those two, I don’t want to hear it.
“Ezra,” Rya yells.
A car slams on its brakes an inch away from me as I cross into the parking lot. I look back again and Ezra’s right at my side. “What are you doing?”
“Going with you.”
“Why?”
“Ezra.” Rya squeals.
I jump in my car, put the keys in the ignition, expecting Ez to get in the passenger seat, but he reaches in and takes the keys out of the ignition.
“I’m driving,” he snaps.
My brows furrow. “What? Why?”
“Because you’ve been drinking,” he says, tilting his head up, motioning me to the passenger seat.
“How do you know?” I ask as I swing one leg over the console.
“You smell of it.”
I get myself over to the passenger seat.
Ezra gets in the car, but before he can shut the door, Rya’s hands clamp onto his shirt.
Ezra grips her hands and throws them off him.
She stumbles a little from the lack of balance she has in those heels.
He hurries and shuts the door, presses the lock button, and starts the car.
Rya is pounding on the windows. “Ezra, talk to me.”
He slowly backs out. So slow so he doesn’t run her over. I don’t even fucking care at this point if he does run her over.
“Ezra.” Rya squeals, still pounding on the window. “Are you going to fuck her to get back at me?”
That’s the last thing she says before Ez speeds off, tires squealing on the pavement.