Chapter 25 #2
I think, probably, my “good,” close childhood friend took advantage of my horrific sense of self-worth, dropped me when I wasn’t convenient, and picked me back up when I became relevant again.
She’s self-centered, entitled, and inconsiderate.
She didn’t even recognize my face on Maelin, probably because she was too blinded by jealousy to even care.
She doesn’t appreciate her boyfriend who’s stuck with her through six months and understands that stop means back the heck off, not prostrate yourself before your queen.
She’s not willing to communicate that with him because people should just “know” to worship her and do exactly what she wants.
She’s not loyal. She’s…not worth my time.
And she’s absolutely not worth an opinion where it concerns how her actions have made me feel about myself.
I’m not good enough for her, because no one is.
And that’s a brokenness she needs to deal with, not me.
Cool resignation flows over me as that realization comes to a head.
Wow. I’ve spent years thinking it was me. I’ve spent weeks considering that I was being cruel for not giving her a chance. I’ve spent so much time on this person, so much emotional energy, so much…of myself. I have given her so much of myself.
Only for her to teach me that it wasn’t enough.
And for me to take that information and learn that I wasn’t enough.
But I am.
For the right people.
And she?
Is wrong.
“Ana?” she says, frowning. “You’re not going to put in a good word for me, are you?
” she accuses. “And you don’t even want to tell me the truth, do you?
You can say it. You haven’t wanted to be my friend for years.
You abandoned me when I needed you most, and now you have a perfect life without me, and you want to keep it all to yourself.
Why are you even here if you don’t want what we had back?
We can’t get back to what we had when we’re hours apart, Morana.
Did you even care about me at all?” Her eyes shutter, closing off.
“Or was it always just me, feeling bad for the lonely, depressing kid without any other friends because of her anger issues?”
So. The truth about how she’s always seen me comes out.
I’m just the lonely, depressing kid with anger issues.
That’s me.
Odd how fast my heart is beating at being called out for exactly what I am. Odd how my anger issues are unhelpfully absent at the moment, while I’m trying to locate kindness in my response of we’re done here.
But perhaps the oddest thing of all is how I have outgrown this person who was once the reason I got up in the morning…
For the first time in my life, I realize that she never deserved me. And I always deserved better.
The front door bell chimes, and I blink out of my haze, looking up to find dark hair and lethal promise.
My rampaging heart leaps, settles, goes still.
And I find myself smiling.
“Is this a joke to you?” Talira’s voice breaks, and she tilts her head back to keep her tears from falling. A soft swear leaves her. “I was so hopeful when you messaged me about today, but you’re just here to make fun of me, aren’t you? You’re nothing but a bully.”
“Yeah,” I say. “And what if I am a bully?”
“What if—” She sniffles, reaching for a napkin to dab the corners of her running mascara. “You’re horrible, Morana. I can’t believe you’d do this to me. I don’t know why I expected anything different. You’ve always been mean.”
Kyran’s fist closes so tight, I hear the crack from two yards away. Stopping behind Talira, he looks me square in the eye. “Dearest, is this—” He swears. “—bothering you?”
Talira jumps, twists, and gapes. “You’re— You’re—”
FrostPlays. AKA: some guy who plays games online. You recognize him, huh? Yet you couldn’t recognize the twin sister of the person you claimed was your best friend for something like ten years? Even though you went to school with both of us? For something like ten years.
Crazy.
Wide-eyed, Talira throws a look at me. “You’re here with FrostPlays? You know FrostPlays?”
“Yeah.” I gather what’s left of my soup cup and slip from the chair. “I know him.”
“Biblically,” Kyran supplies, opening his arm to welcome me against his side. “She’s my wife.”
A tingle races down my spine at the subtle edge of a growl in those words.
My wife.
His.
To have and to hold. To protect and to love.
“You mean…you…and…” Her attention flicks to Kyran, then anger so sharp slices into her eyes, leaving me to question if I’m really the one with issues. “You mean you could really put in a good word for me and get me into Sunset, but you won’t.”
“Wouldn’t matter if she did. You’re not the kind of person we let in,” Kyran mutters.
Talira’s mouth falls open.
“You never deserved Morana.” Kyran’s lip curls as he spits the words.
“I hope you rot in the cesspool of your own insignificance for the rest of your puny and ultimately meaningless life, knowing deeply at the core of yourself that you are a waste of space, air, and time.” After all that, it’s miraculous how featherlight the kiss landing on my forehead is.
“Let’s go, dearest. I grow tired of sharing air with a maggot who thinks you’re mean… when that’s clearly my job.”
He turns me around, and I jerk myself free of the mic drop long enough to remember. “Oh, e-boy. I was going to get you a sandwich.”
Kyran glances at the counter, then at me. Something in him palpably softens as he shakes his head. “We’ve got better bread at home, which is where I’d really like to get you. So.”
Without another word, he sweeps me outside, gets me settled in the passenger seat of his car, and sets the GPS for home.