31. Serena
Two weeks later
“Serena, is everything okay?” I glance up, looking at Meg’s concerned face over my plate of French toast at JJ’s. It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen Wolf, and honestly, I am such a riot of emotion that I don’t quite know how to respond.
On the one hand, I’m happy for the forced distance between us and the conversations that have transpired as a result. Both through call and text, Wolf and I speak every day, multiple times a day, and I’ve learned so much about his wants, dreams, and views. In turn, I’ve told him about my screenwriter dreams, the trouble with my dad and his family, and even the events at the end of last semester with Dylan and Devin. When I told him how they showed up at Greyson, Dante, and Lincoln’s house, only for Dante to punch Devin and Celeste to incapacitate Dylan, I thought Wolf would drive to my apartment to check that I was okay before finding my former best friend and neighbor and killing them.
Not figuratively, but literally, in cold blood. It was the first time that I had thought about the incident in a few weeks. I’ve been so busy, so distracted, that I haven’t had time to dwell on anything other than my coursework and my relationships with my friends, my mom, and Wolf. Even the stress of my father has taken a backseat since I haven’t heard from him in two weeks.
“I’m good,” I finally respond, taking a bite of my food and smiling around the sweet bread. Swallowing, I pat my mouth with a napkin and look at Meg. “I’m happy we were able to get together. I feel like it’s been a while since we saw each other.” My relationship with Meg may be much different, less effortless, than my relationship with Celeste and Ava, but I value her friendship, and I feel lucky that I met her.
“I know. Me too, Little. Are you going to the mixer this weekend? I know you haven’t gone to one since the messy mixer. It’s with Sig Phi, the business fraternity; they’re co-ed.” Immediately, I shake my head and watch as Meg’s face falls. “Oh. Do you have other plans?”
“Yeah, I have plans with C and Ava on Saturday night.”
Meg nods her head, considering her words before asking, “Are you happy, Serena? Being in the sorority, I mean. You haven’t come to much since rush and pledging.”
Looking away, I think about how best to respond. “I am happy, and I like all the women in the sorority, you especially.” I pause, smiling at her. “But aside from you, I don’t feel connected to the other girls, probably because I have classes during chapter, work weekends, and have commitments with other organizations, too.” I reflect on STD, the English Honor Society, and how my role continually changes. “Things aren’t too busy with STD, but I know they’ll pick up once the weather gets nicer, and I’m relishing whatever free time I have before things get too hectic. I should make more of an effort; I know that.”
“Just maybe come by the house, hang out with us, and get to know everyone a bit. You don’t need to go to the mixers or rush events if you really can’t or don’t like them. I know they say you have to do certain things, but no one is going to force you, especially if you’re paying your dues. And if you decide to disaffiliate, we can still be friends; it’s not like I’ll kick you out of my life just because the chapter isn’t the right fit.” Meg reaches over and squeezes my hand, showing me with both her words and actions that she supports me.
“Thanks, Meg.” I smile, but she rolls her eyes.
“Would it kill you to call me ‘Big?’”
Returning her eye roll, I tease, “Probably.”
I’m about to cut off another piece of French toast when Meg asks, “So, how’s everything with Jack?”
“Nothing is going on between me and Jack.”
“Your date didn’t go well?”
Shaking my head, I drop my fork and reach for the glass of water, taking a generous sip before telling her about the shitshow of a date. Meg is practically rolling on the floor by the time I describe Ava and Celeste’s wigs.
“So let me get this straight: Jack picks you up, brings you to a tavern for pizza, tries to kiss you but gets interrupted by Celeste’s cousin, who just so happens to be there. Your two best friends are dressed like international spies, and then Jack abandons you without paying the bill?” When I nod, not bothering to correct a single thing she said because there’s no lie detected, she howls with laughter. “My God, Jack needs to fix his game. No wonder he’s still single.”
“He’s a nice guy,” I grumble, feeling protective of him even though there’s no romantic feeling there.
“Nice? Sure, but incredibly stupid. So, tell me about this guy, Wolf.”
Grabbing my fork, I slice a piece of toast and pop it into my mouth, chewing slowly. “He’s Celeste’s cousin.”
“Serena.” Her voice sounds like a teacher scolding a kindergartener.
Clearing my throat, I offer, “We’re seeing each other. He’s the guy from the party, the one that came to pick me up, you know.”
Meg’s eyes widen at the realization. “Holy shit. That huge redhead that looks like he could bench press a tree?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“Damn, good for you. No wonder why you aren’t interested in Jack.”
Laughing, I’m about to respond when I see familiar blonde hair out of the corner of my eye. Sobering immediately, I turn my head and watch as Marina and Bethany walk into JJ’s and slide into a booth on the opposite side of the room. It’s far enough away that I’m not forced to interact with them, but it’s directly in my line of sight. They both see me, and their pretty faces transform with the ugly sneers plastered on them.
“What’s wrong?” Meg asks, instantly recognizing that something is off. Spinning around, she follows my gaze and turns back to me, a frown marking her face. “Isn’t that your stepsister?”
“Yep, and her big, Bethany. She’s a senior in my linguistics class. I think she hates me as much as Marina does.”
Meg’s nose scrunches at my explanation. “She’s probably annoyed she’s not at the top of the class. Let me guess, you answer every question correctly?”
“I may have corrected her once or twice.”
“Ah, no one likes a know-it-all,” Meg teases, her face smoothing at the taunt.
“Shut up. I couldn’t help it.”
“Forget them. We’re done anyway, right?” she asks, glancing down at our almost-empty plates. Nodding my agreement, she pulls out a couple of twenties and lays them on the table. “Let’s go, my treat today.”
“Wait, let me pay you back. I’ll send you the money.” Pulling out my phone, I swipe over the unopened texts and click on my banking application.
“Serena, it’s fine. You pay next time.”
Sighing, I drop my arm. “Thanks, Meg. I appreciate it.” We both slip on our coats and rise from the booth. I don’t look over my shoulder toward the table on the opposite side of the restaurant, but I can feel the prickles of their attention like jabs from barbed wire.
—
After hugging Meg goodbye, I hurry into Beans Things to grab a drink before Dr. Forester’s class. It’s been a challenge keeping up with her reading and assignments, but I’ve found that I genuinely enjoy learning about linguistics, especially how she teaches it. The line isn’t long, but I find myself scrolling through the texts on my phone as I wait to reach the barista. Clicking on the unread messages from my mom, I read through her texts.
Mom (11:36 AM): Hi Mu?eca, just reminding you that I need some help on Sunday if you’re still available.
Mom(11:42 AM): You must be in class. Call me this afternoon; I’m off today to finish packing, so I’m able to answer your call.
Reminders of the move make my heart plummet, but I click on my mother’s contact information and dial her number. Unsurprisingly, she picks up on the second ring.
My mom’s voice greets me instantly. “Mu?eca, how are you? How are your classes?”
“Hi, Mom. I’m doing well. Classes are fine; I just got done having lunch with Meg.”
My mom hums her approval. She’s never made any secret that she was worried about me starting college so early, but my father was the driving force behind me not only starting college at sixteen but also moving out and living on my own at such a young age. To say my mother is relieved that I’ve finally found friends and formed strong bonds would be an understatement. “That’s wonderful, honey. How is she doing? How are Celeste and Ava?”
“Everyone is well. But yes, I’ll be there on Sunday. Do you need any boxes or anything?”
“No, I have it all. I just need you to go through your things. I’ll be up early, so come whenever you’d like. I can’t wait to see you.”
I smile into the phone. “Me too.” Movement in front of me catches my attention, and I see that I’m next in line. “I’m at the coffee shop, and I’m about to order. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Don’t drink too much coffee, hija. I love you. Call me tomorrow.”
“I know; I’m getting tea. Love you, too.” Hanging up, I walk to the counter and place an order for a mint tea. The barista swipes my student ID in exchange for a boiling cup of tea, and less than ten minutes after I entered the shop, I’m already on my way out.
I take my time walking to Forester’s class, letting myself enjoy the crisp weather outside before I’m stuffed in a classroom for almost two hours. Transferring my tea to my left hand, I fish inside my bag for my phone and pull open Wolf’s texts. We spoke a little this morning, but he had to rush to get to the gym before a full day of clients. I decide to text him, just on the off chance that he’s available.
Serena: Hey, how’s your day going?
My phone vibrates seconds after sending the message, and I laugh at the incoming call. “I thought you were busy today.”
“Busy as fuck, but I have a few minutes between clients. How are you, princess?”
“Full. I just finished eating lunch with my friend, Meg. She’s the one you scared half to death at that party.”
“Ah, the one who didn’t realize she should try to open the door instead of just pounding on it.”
Nodding my head as though he can see it, I laugh. “Yep, the same.”
“Hmm.” His hum flows over me. “You on your way to class now?”
Clearing my throat, I nod again. Anyone watching me probably thinks I’m impersonating a bobblehead. “Yes, I have class in a few minutes.”
“You still coming this weekend?” There’s a note of worry in his voice, like he thinks I might have changed my mind.
“Of course. I told you I would be there. I’m excited to see you fight.” Excited is not exactly the right word—terrified, apprehensive, and strangely aroused would all fit better.
“I’m excited to see you. Wait for me after the fight. I’ll bring you home.”
“Okay.” I stop in front of the door to the building where Forester’s class is held. “Listen, I’m about to walk inside the building for class. I’ll talk to you tonight?”
“No problem. Be good, princess.”
“I’m always good,” I comment wryly before hanging up on him. Replaying our conversation in my head, I walk through the building and into class in a daze. Sliding into my usual seat, I shift through my bag and begin placing my things on my desk to prepare for the lecture.
At the sound of Heather sliding into her seat beside me, I sit up to say hello. Except, when I look over, it’s not Heather occupying the seat, but Bethany with a mocking smile.
“Hello, Serena.”
“What do you want, Bethany?” I sigh, already over the conversation.
“What, I can’t say hello to my little’s sister?”
Scoffing, I let my disgust bleed into my voice. “Marina and I aren’t sisters; we’re not even friends. Can’t you just leave me alone? Both of you. She won; she got the family. And anyway, aren’t you graduating this semester? Aren’t you too old for the bullying trope?”
“Aren’t you a little young to be a homewrecker?” she replies, but instead of sounding vicious, she just sounds confused.
Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. “Just let it go, Bethany. I get it, Marina is your friend. That’s great. But truthfully, I don’t want to be anywhere near either of you. If you’ve come over here to warn me away from Jack, let her know I’m not interested. I’d tell her, except I don’t care about what either of you want. So, go back to your seat, study your notes for the quiz we’re probably going to have, and stay far away from me.” Turning forward, I avert my face so that she’s not in my peripheral view.
Though, just because I can’t see her doesn’t mean I can’t hear her. Bethany huffs and mumbles, “Bitch,” under her breath before standing from Heather’s seat and walking down the aisle toward the front of the room. Relaxing once she’s no longer next to me, I watch as Heather slides into her seat and offer her a small smile.
Forester steps to the podium not a second later, greeting us before telling us all to clear our desks for the pop quiz. Bethany looks back at me and scowls.
I shouldn’t feel so satisfied that I was right about the quiz or about telling her to fuck off. But there’s no denying that it felt good.
—
Two hours, a pop quiz, and a hand cramp later from typing fast enough to keep up with Forester’s lesson, I’m relieved to walk out the doors of the lecture hall. That relief quickly morphs into dread at the sight of Dylan leaning against the wall opposite me. Stopping in the middle of the hallway, I welcome the grumblings of my classmates as their bodies collide with mine to sneak past me; at least it makes me feel something other than absolute dread at his presence.
“Stop blocking the hallway, bitch,” Bethany mumbles under her breath as she shoves me aside. Her comment is all I need to jolt myself out of my haze and start my movement, letting my legs take quick strides toward the exit and away from my former best friend.
“Serena, wait,” Dylan calls from behind. Three, four months ago, I would have listened to his command; hell, I would have been overjoyed to see him and would have hugged him the moment I realized his presence. Now? My body, mind, and heart are repulsed by the thought of any form of contact with him. I pick up speed, breaking into a light jog as I weave through the crowd walking through the doors.
“Sorry, excuse me. Whoops, sorry about that,” I mumble as I elbow, side-step, and stomp on the people in my way, all to avoid Dylan. I don’t breathe until I’m yards away from the building, certain that I’ve placed enough distance between us that a run-in is impossible. Stopping to catch my breath, I draw in a long exhale and jump at the haunted voice behind me.
“Serena, please. Can we talk?”
Whipping around, I take in Dylan’s disheveled appearance; he’s always been vain, consumed by his presentation and outward appearance. The rumpled clothing, bags under his eyes, and paleness of his skin are almost enough to make me feel bad for him. Almost, but not quite.
“You’re joking, right? No, we cannot talk. As Celeste would say, get fucked.” Turning, I step forward to continue my walk across campus but stop when Dylan’s hand reaches out to grip my shoulder. His hold is light, but a flashback to the party assaults me and my body stiffens. “Get your hand off me. Now.”
His touch is immediately lifted. “I’m sorry. Please, Serena. Just give me five minutes.”
Keeping my back to him, I clench my fists. “You don’t get five minutes. You don’t get another minute of my time, Dylan. You were my best friend, my rock, for years, and you betrayed my trust out of what? Jealousy? You know that our kiss was wrong; it was like kissing a cousin or a brother. You were just mad that you couldn’t have me all to yourself anymore, that I wasn’t yours and yours alone. I made other friends, I had sex with someone, and you lashed out like a child because you couldn’t control me. And then, you put your hands on me, bruised me, and whispered vile things. What fucking right do you have to come up to me, demanding we speak?
“Following me, as though you have the privilege to be in my presence? You don’t. I never want to see you again. I never want to speak to you again.” I’ve had time to analyze why Dylan did what he did, and all theories point to the same conclusion: he wanted control.
A strangled sound comes from behind me, but I have no sympathy, no shred of compassion. “Serena, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I found out you were in Bethany’s class and knew I needed to speak to you, apologize for what I did. I miss you; I miss us. Please, look at me.”
Shaking my head, I’m surprised by the lack of tears in my eyes as I say, “You should be sorry for acting like a monster, but that doesn’t mean I forgive you or want to speak with you. Get your shit together and have a good life.”
I don’t let his sorrow stop my progress forward and resume my walk back to my apartment. Maybe this is a good thing, though I never felt I needed closure after he put his hands on me. To be honest, I’m pissed that I had to see him at all. I’m sure some would romanticize his tracking me down, but I’m disgusted that he forced me to see his face after what he did. Maybe I’m a bad person, or maybe I just refuse to be subjected to cruel behavior by someone I trusted and cared for, but in either case, I have no desire to see or speak to Dylan again.
“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath as I pull my cell phone out to let Ava and Celeste know what just happened.