Chapter 19
NINETEEN
The next two weeks pass quickly.
With the stress of my first speech out of the way and the second one still in the planning stages, I’m able to give more attention to my other classes.
I spend a surprising amount of time at Wes’s house, doing homework with him in his room or watching movies downstairs.
We finish The Lord of the Rings trilogy and move on to Star Wars, of which he’s also a big fan.
Wes stays on good behavior, though he never misses an opportunity to pull me into one of his amazing hugs or cuddle together on the couch during a film. I fall asleep once or twice, but he makes no more sleepover propositions.
On the days I’m not at Wes’s, I spend hours of my time working in my little corner of the library. My own room is too confining, too claustrophobic, which is crazy because a few weeks ago it was my place of solace. Now, it just seems lonely.
On rare occasions, Wes meets me in the library, but more often than not it’s Quinn and her boyfriend, Remy, sliding into the chairs across from me.
Remy’s an interesting guy. Definitely the silent and brooding type, speaking more with his eyes than with his words. But I can tell by the adoring looks he shoots Quinn that he really cares for her.
What I wouldn’t give for someone to look at me like that.
Maybe someday, if you can ever get over your shit.
Tucked at my usual table, I’ve just cracked open my history book when Quinn and Remy appear. My roommate sinks down into the chair across from me without so much as a hello and blurts, “Okay, don’t freak out.”
I stare at her, then glance at Remy. Unfortunately, he gives nothing away with his expression. “Next time you might want to lead with something less dramatic if you’re trying to prevent a freak out,” I tell her. “What’s going on?”
Quinn’s eyes dart nervously toward her boyfriend before she says, “There’s been some…chatter.”
“Chatter,” I repeat slowly.
“About you and a certain six-five, brown-eyed superstar.”
I blink at her. “I think he’s six-four, actually.”
She waves me off. “Semantics. Anyway, some girls are spreading some,” she hesitates, “not-so-nice rumors.”
“W-what?” My pulse skips, too fast and too loud, and I press my clammy hands against the tops of my thighs. That was the absolute last thing I expected her to say because I’m invisible, aren’t I? I’m supposed to be invisible. “Well, what are they saying?”
“Oh, a whole butt load of things.” Quinn winces. “Maybe you don’t want to know.”
“Then why did you tell her?” asks Remy, speaking up for the first time.
“Because she deserves to know.”
I bite my lip, considering. On one hand, finding out this sort of information will probably wreck me. But on the other, I can’t stand being kept in the dark. With my overactive imagination, I’ll conjure up too many horrific scenarios in my head. “I want to know what they’re saying.”
Quinn sighs. “Alright. Well, they’re saying…they’re saying that you’re a s-l-u-t. That you screwed half the guys on the team. That you were messing around with Wes when he was still with his ex. That you’re a witch and you cast a spell on him—”
“What?!”
“—so he won’t look at other girls. That you have a shrine to him in your bedroom. That you’re a—”
I hold up a hand. “Okay, stop, stop, stop. You’re saying you overheard people saying all that?”
“Have you heard of UChat? It’s a forum, kind of like Reddit, but for university questions and gossip. Well, an entire post is dedicated to you…and it’s trending.”
Trending? Incredulous, I glance at Remy for confirmation. He nods. “It is.”
My hands start to shake, my fingertips tingling. I swallow hard and clench them into fists beneath the table. “Can I see it?”
Quinn frowns. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
I debate it for half a second and then nod. “I need to see it.”
Remy and Quinn exchange a loaded look before she pulls up the app on her phone and slides it across to me. With a shaky hand, I read the post.
“There are pictures?” I cry, suddenly nauseous.
I stare at a picture of me and Wes from the day we went sledding, his arm thrown over my shoulder.
There’s a picture of us walking out of class together.
A picture of us in his car. A picture outside my apartment building.
They’re all taken from odd angles, some of them out of focus, some of them obstructed.
How did I not realize people were snapping my photo left and right?
“Oh, yeah. Did I not, um, mention that?” I shake my head and scroll through the anonymous comments. “Girls here are fucking crazy. And they’re fucking obsessed with Wes Tucker.”
What a slut.
She’s not even that pretty.
Heard the team passes her around. Everyone gets a turn.
Whore.
Freshmen are so desperate, I swear.
Wes Tucker could do SO MUCH BETTER OMFG.
What the fuck does he see in this twig?
My finger freezes on one of the most recent comments.
Knew her from high school. She fucked my boyfriend behind my back, then lied about it. SLUT.
Bile rises in my throat because I know who wrote that, and even after everything, I can’t believe she put it out there in writing for the world to see. “I feel sick,” I mumble, dropping the phone and pushing back from the table. “Bathroom.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” Quinn calls after me, but I can’t respond. I almost don’t make it to the first stall before my lunch comes back up, tears pricking my eyes as I heave into the library toilet for the second time this semester.
I just need a second. A second to collect my thoughts. A second to wrangle my emotions under control. But it’s hard when they’re spiraling, those comments relentless as they whip around my head in a hurricane of pure hatred and cruelty.
Freshmen are so desperate, I swear.
Wes Tucker could do SO MUCH BETTER OMFG.
Whore.
I heave again, but nothing comes up. My skin is crawling, the words creeping over the surface until all I want is to rip it right off. I scratch at my arms, legs, neck. I try to rub them away.
Knew her from high school. She fucked my boyfriend behind my back, then lied about it.
SLUT.
It’s only when my vision goes hazy around the edges and panic roars through me, deafening and raw, that I squeeze my eyes shut and lean against the wall of the stall. I press my hands to my stomach and force myself to breathe, in, out, in, out, in, out, counting back from ten.
Ten. Nine. Eight.
Breathe in.
Seven. Six. Five. Four.
Breathe out.
The bathroom door creaks open and hesitant footsteps approach my stall. “Ivy?” Quinn knocks lightly on the door. “Are you okay?”
Three. Two. One.
My vision clears, and my lungs expand as I suck in a deep breath. It takes a moment to find my voice. “I’m okay.”
“I’m so sorry, Ivy,” she says, her voice dripping with remorse. “I shouldn’t have showed it to you, but I wanted you to know in case some bitch said something mean.”
I sniff. “I understand. I’d rather be informed.”
“Do you want me to call Wes?”
“No,” I say quickly. “I’m fine. You don’t need to call him. I’ll…I’ll be out in a second.”
Quinn hesitates for a moment before saying, “Okay. We’ll be at the table when you’re ready.”
I nod, even though she can’t see, and wait until she’s vacated the bathroom before stepping out of the stall.
Sidling up to the mirror, I wince at my red-rimmed eyes and ghostly pale complexion.
I’d noticed some color returning to my cheeks over the past few weeks, but it’s gone now.
I’m white as a sheet, my skin practically translucent.
After rinsing my mouth out and wiping my eyes, I take a deep breath and head back out to the library. I don’t sit. I begin to gather up my books, conscious that Remy and Quinn are watching me with concern, probably worried I might burst into tears at any moment.
I might, but they don’t need to know that.
“We were going to go back to Remy’s tonight, but would you rather I go to the apartment?” Quinn asks as I stuff books into my backpack. “It’s not a big deal.”
“No, no,” I assure. “You two do what you originally planned. I’ll be fine.”
“Maybe you should go to Wes’s, so you’re not alone?”
“Maybe,” I say and offer her a tense smile. Honestly, right now, all I want is to be on my own. “See you guys later.”
“Alright,” Quinn says, her voice sounding a bit reluctant. “Well, text me if you need anything, okay?”
“Hang in there, Ivy,” says Remy.
I nod at both of them, but the moment I turn away, my strong facade crumbles. I blink back tears and tell myself to get a grip.
Walking through the library, I keep my head down and try to go unnoticed, but it feels like everyone’s watching me.
Staring at me. Judging me. The girls at the coffee stand who shoot me dirty looks before whispering behind their hands.
The sorority sisters who laugh at me the moment I pass them on the sidewalk.
The boys leering at me like they’ve read the comments and want in on the action.
My skin crawls. I might never leave my room again.
I’m halfway back to the dorm when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Wes: I hate to say it, but I think we should start the prequels tonight, just to get the full Star Wars experience. I’ve heard The Phantom Menace isn’t as bad as people remember…
Normally, I’d respond with a resounding let’s do it, but now I just tuck my phone away and keep walking. I guess Wes is unaware of the forum, which makes sense because it’s not exactly targeting him. I decide I don’t want him to find out about it. Not now. Not ever.
The last thing I need is for him to read Alexis’s comment.
When I make it home, I’m thankful to find the apartment empty. After washing up in the bathroom and vigorously brushing my teeth, I shut myself in my room and change out of my jeans. I crawl into bed and vow not to come out for the rest of the night.
A few tears leak onto the pillow as I respond to Wes’s text.
Me: I’m sorry but I’m actually not feeling great. Rain check?
Wes: Is everything okay? Do you need anything?