Chapter 4
Four
Coralie
“You’re what?” Jessica demanded, her voice incredulous.
I sighed, hitting the indicator to turn onto the next street I needed.
I was about five minutes from the club now, and I was extremely worried.
Mila had been beyond drunk. She was wasted.
And Brittany wasn’t sober either. Didn’t they know how dangerous that was, especially without someone sober to be there with them? What had they been thinking?
Clearly, they hadn’t been.
“I’m going to pick them up,” I repeated, annoyed.
I was tired and just wanted to crawl back into bed, but the thought of leaving Mila out at that damn club while she was so out of her mind made me sick to my stomach.
I knew I would spend the rest of the night keeping watch on her, but as long as she was safe, I didn’t care.
And right now, she wasn’t safe.
I loved you, you know that?
Those words sat on repeat in my head. I’d known she’d loved me. We’d been best friends. Had spent every moment we could together. But the way she’d said it… it was like she loved me in a wholly different way than I’d thought she did.
I’d been so fucked up inside when she told me she had a crush on Brittany, but had she just been reaching out? Tentatively seeking information about if I loved her in the same way she’d apparently loved me?
If so… Fuck. Guilt churned in my gut. I’d known Mila better than anyone else. I knew she would never come out and say whether or not she truly liked someone. That should have been my first flag that she was trying to tell me something else. Mila was too shy for something like that.
And I’d… walked away. Left her there at that party with a girl she hadn’t known at the time so I could lick my wounds in private.
And something that night had shifted between us, turning us into enemies.
Mila, who had always been calm and level-headed, had always avoided confrontation, had turned into a blood-thirsty monster that following week.
But I hadn’t been any better. I’d been hurt and furious seeing her with Brittany, and when she’d ignored me all weekend, those feelings had festered and burned until I only saw red when I saw her again.
“You’ve lost your fucking mind,” Jessica snapped, dragging me back to our conversation. “Why are you bending over backward to help her, Coralie? She doesn’t deserve it.”
I swallowed thickly. “She said she loved me. Asked me if I knew that.” Jessica was stunned into silence. She’d been best friends with Mila, too. Had known how she was like back then. “I’m starting to think I misunderstood something along the way,” I confessed.
Jessica sighed. “And if you did?”
I chewed on my bottom lip. “Then I’m going to fix this. I have to.” And I was going to have to fucking grovel, which was something I never did. But there wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for Mila, even now.
“Mila, baby, come on. Wake up for me,” I coaxed, lightly tapping her cheek. She moaned and turned her head away, almost falling over. I quickly caught her, frowning, concern tightening my chest. I pushed her pink hair out of her face and then glanced at my car parked at the curb.
Fuck. It seemed so goddamn far away.
“Brittany, help me get her up and to the car,” I ordered.
Brittany nodded and rushed over, helping me get Mila onto her feet.
I stumbled when she sagged against me, forcing me to take her weight.
After a moment, Brittany and I managed to somewhat evenly distribute her weight between the two of us, and we hefted her to my car, easing her into the passenger seat.
Brittany silently slid into the backseat while I buckled Mila in.
The ride back to campus was quiet and tense.
Brittany didn’t utter a word—probably because she knew I was on the verge of lashing out at her for letting Mila get this wasted.
It was so dangerous. What if Mila hadn’t called me?
How was she planning to get her and Mila home?
A fucking Uber? At this time of night? No.
Mila wasn’t even awake. How had she expected to navigate that issue?
“Help me get her up to our dorm room,” I told Brittany as I shifted my car into park in one of the parking stalls in front of our building.
Getting Mila’s deadweight to our room was pure hell. She was barely conscious, which meant she wasn’t cooperating with us. “Did she fucking take anything?” I demanded, only making it as far as my bed. I deposited Milas as gently as I could before working on pulling her shoes off.
“No,” Brittany told me immediately.
I sighed, not looking at her. “You can go,” I said rudely, dismissing her. But she still didn’t say a word—just quietly left the room, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.
“Thin’ gon’ sick,” Mila mumbled, looking a little green as she looked up at me through slitted eyes.
I quickly grabbed my trashcan and thrust it in front of her right before she vomited.
I cringed at the smell but pushed her hair back from her face, wishing I could do more to make her feel better.
I knew how she felt. Her stomach was churning, and everything felt hot and uncomfortable. The world was spinning too much.
Why had she drank so much?
For the next few hours, she slept, occasionally waking up to vomit. I stayed by her side, using a cool, damp cloth to sponge the sweat off her skin. After her fifth time of vomiting, she rolled over and looked at me through bleary, drunk eyes.
“I got arrested that night,” Mila told me, her eyes closing. Her words were still slurred but nowhere near as bad as she had been. My eyes widened in horror at her confession. “My parents hate me. You turned your back on me.”
“Mila…” I breathed, but she was already passed back out, her lips softly parted. Soft snores left her lips.
A tear slid down my cheek and landed on her throat as I stared down at her, guilt swirling through my veins like poison.
“Mila, baby, I am so sorry,” I whispered. “So fucking sorry.”
How had I let things get so fucked up?