Chapter 20
VIVIENNE
“Get the popcorn and the drinks. It’s monthly game night!” Evelyn squeals as she bursts out of her bedroom, pink Scrabble box in hand.
Sutton quickly follows her lead with a gleeful laugh, sprinting out of the kitchen with arms full of pink-and-white-striped boxes packed with buttery popcorn.
I’m the last one to plop down on the living room floor with my famous raspberry margarita mix—the quintessential pink glasses with our crystal-studded initials already there.
Pink. Pink. Pink.
With our commitment to the theme, I’d say we’re well on our way to giving Barbie a run for her money.
“I am so ready for tonight!” Sutton cheers, clapping wildly, and for the first time in a while, I feel the same.
What started as an excuse to spend time with friends despite our packed grad school schedules slowly turned into a monthly tradition.
At first, I found these get-togethers exciting—a good way to take a breather, gossip, and catch up with each other.
But as more of my experiments failed and the pressure of graduation grew heavier, I started dreading them a little.
It felt like time I should have been dedicating to my chemistry, but tonight, it feels different.
“Do we need a reminder of the rules?” Evelyn takes a sip of her raspberry drink, morphing into a Cheshire cat. Wide grin. Playful eyes. Fingers fiddling together. The girl has something up her sleeve, and Sutton’s the first one to voice it.
“What did you do this time, Evelyn?” There’s a wariness to the redhead’s tone as she tosses the final tile of her ongoing distribution in her direction.
With a radiant smile and even brighter eyes, the medical student pulls out a hot-pink notebook from behind her back: Not-So-Official, Official Game Night Rule Book, bedazzled with silver jewels on the front.
Sutton deadpans at the sight. “How do you have time to do this? Do you not have a thousand bones and muscles to learn?”
My thoughts exactly.
Evelyn gives a casual shrug. “I needed a break. Unfortunately, I’m not manic like Vivienne. I can’t work all the time.”
“Hey!” I let out in protest. “I’ve been doing really well at the work-life balance-thing you both talk about.”
They turn to me in unison, brows quirking like I was the biggest liar on the planet. To which, I must admit, I am.
I worked the hardest I ever have this past week at the lab for a few different reasons. For one, I was determined to make my reactions work. For two, I wanted to feel like I earned this break. For three, and the biggest reason of all, I needed to forget about Nate.
No texts. No calls. No impromptu visits to the lab.
I thought his confession to me that morning in his bedroom would have prompted a shift between us—in a good way, that is. Fewer rules. More space to explore whatever this is. But it only made him grow more distant. I felt it at breakfast, in the car, and most certainly, I feel it now.
“Hm-hm.” Evelyn coughs, dragging our attention back to her as she flips to the first page of her notebook.
“It’s time for a reading from the Not-So-Official, Official Game Night Rule Book.
As per this very legit document, three rules must be abided by at all times.
One, all participants are required to wear pink pajama sets—handpicked by Evelyn Wright to reflect a key aspect of their personalities. ”
My gaze darts down before moving to the two girls in front of me.
I had test tubes and too simple chemical structures.
Sutton had gears and race cars. And Evelyn had typewriters and pencils—something that I still haven’t figured out the meaning behind.
I always assumed she would have gravitated towards stethoscopes and needles.
“Two, whichever participant had the roughest month gets the honor of placing the first word.”
I feel the need to mention that while we called it game night, we only ever played Scrabble. Pink Scrabble to be exact—and with no exception. For no other reason than that Evelyn loved the game and believed the board to be sacred.
“And last,” she continues. “Rule number three, definitions of all words must be read out loud for participants’ educational benefit.”
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I can spurt out definitions from the top of my head.
I get that it was meant to improve our vocabulary, but now that I’ve started regurgitating this information to strangers who piss me off, I’m beginning to resent the rule.
And by strangers, I really do just mean Nate.
Dammit, Vivienne, you’re thinking about him again.
“Okay, Vivienne.” Evelyn claps once. “You can start the game.”
Figures. My life has been in shambles since the beginning of September.
I look down at my letters, finding the tiles rearranging themselves until one word is screaming at me. My eyes squint on their own accord, hoping—praying—to find a more appropriate four-letter word for this very PG game night, but nothing comes.
“You know, you never told us what went down when you were away at Nate’s.” Sutton shuffles her letters, but the not-so-subtle glances she shoots me give her away—she’s looking for the scoop, and, unluckily for her, she isn’t getting it.
Savoring the long sip of my margarita, I stare at my letters in search of a better word but come up empty. I have no other choice but to go through with this.
“What’s taking you so long, Vivienne?” Evelyn asks when five minutes have passed, and I still haven’t played.
I work up the courage to place down my very first tile, the shame too high to contain.
C.
“You never answered my question,” Sutton singsongs, eyeing me as she sips on her drink.
I shoot her the side-eye, placing down the second letter.
U.
“We’re never going to sleep if we play the game at this rate,” Evelyn whines as I place my third tile.
N.
The last tile is in my hand, ready to be played, but I’m tossing it up and down as I question the entirety of my life choices.
“Oh, save us from our misery,” Sutton pleads.
At her request, I place the last tile down on a whim.
T.
I wince as I take in the letters strung together to form their word.
C. U. N. T.
Cunt.
Both Sutton’s and Evelyn’s eyes widen in shock before they burst into laughter. Their amusement becomes increasingly more evident as one wheezes her lungs out and the other coughs up a storm.
“Is it only me, or did it suddenly get hot in here?” Sutton fans a hand across her face. “I’m pretty certain our friend over here got some action this weekend,” she addresses Evelyn. “No wonder you didn’t want to answer my question!”
My face falls flat, and my lips press into a thin line. “Nothing happened this weekend.”
“I don’t know,” Sutton teases with a finger pointed at the board. “A wise man once said that the words played during Scrabble are a reflection of one’s truest self and inner turmoil.”
“And who said that?” I ask.
“Shakespeare.” Sutton nods with such confidence, Evelyn rears back in shock.
“Don’t do my man dirty like that,” the typewriters-and-pencils pajama girl gasps, genuinely offended.
Sutton brushes it off and turns to me, her eyes softening. “Just be honest with us. You know we’ll never judge.”
My shoulders drop on a sigh, and a pang of guilt hits me in the chest.
These are my best friends—the ones I’m closest to—yet I’m the furthest thing from an open book. Anything too personal, too close to home, I’ve kept hidden from the light. My family. My past. I’m starting to realize that burying things is the number one way to go insane, so I bare it all.
“He came to the thought of me, and I almost did the same. I confided in him about my parents, then kissed him before he pushed me away. The next day, he told me he would have continued if it weren’t for my emotions or the deal he’s determined not to break, but he hasn’t texted me all week.”
The emotions I’ve bottled up for so long break to the surface.
I keep the self-judgment at bay by chugging back my margarita, then pour myself another. It’s my strongest drink yet, and I couldn’t be more grateful for the light buzz to my head.
“Not to mention, he’s unbelievably attractive, so fucking sweet, and too damn smart for his own good.
He’s good with kids.” Sip. “He’s got a great family.
” Sip. “He offered to drive us all the way to this conference because I was too scared to fly.” Sip.
“And I honestly really like spending time with him.”
“Oh, Vivienne.” Evelyn’s hand lands on my shoulder with a tight squeeze. “You really like this guy.”
When she says it, I realize she’s right.
Feelings. Attachment. Strings. None of this was supposed to happen. It was meant to be quick—a fake engagement that benefited us both. So how am I finding myself here?
“And by the sounds of it, he likes you too,” Evelyn continues, her soft blue eyes fixed on mine.
I shake my head in denial, trying to convince myself otherwise. “Not possible. It’s lust more than anything…on both our parts.”
When Evelyn and Sutton look over at me with the questionable raise of their brow, I let out a long sigh, set my glass on the coffee table, and fall to land back first on the floor.
“Lust is rooted in sexual attraction—the answer you gave me came from the heart.”
Out of everyone in this room, Evelyn is probably the most qualified to give this kind of advice—she’s been in a long, committed relationship since high school. Not to mention, she reads a shit ton of romance books—Sutton as well, but she’s a little more erratic.
“I’d take a guess and say he’s just as scared as you. He might not show that he cares, but from what I’m hearing, he’s only pulling away because he does.”
I heave in a large breath, disappointed to have heard something that could further feed my delusions. They needed to be shut down—shoved into a closet and never spoken of again.
“What we need is a plan of action.” Sutton butts in. From the conviction in her voice, I already know exactly what’s going through her mind. And I don’t like it one bit.
In a panic, I shoot up from my place on the floor, the world turning black like that night in the fountain. To Evelyn’s dismay, and my general health, I still haven’t started taking my iron supplements. But that’s an aside.
“We are not seducing him!” I declare when my vision recovers, and Sutton’s devious grin comes into view.
Large hazel eyes meet mine, full of innocence, as she twirls an amber strand around her finger. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”
My mouth drops in shock at the absurdity of the question—the possibilities were endless.
I drive each reason home with a raised finger, starting with my thumb.
“It could make the next four months of our engagement beyond awkward.” Then my index.
“We could lose any semblance of the friendship we built.” And lastly.
“It might leave us both with regrets we can’t take back…
Do you see how poorly this could turn out! ” I exclaim in full-blown panic.
Sutton shakes her head like I have no clue what I’m talking about. “Vivienne, the only regrets people have in life are from actions not taken. Let go. Have some fun. It could end poorly either way, so why not follow your heart and see where it takes you?”
I anxiously run my fingers through my hair. The last time I followed my heart—as in last week in Nate’s bed—I got rejection served on a silver platter. I told myself I’d never do it again, but Sutton might be onto something. An action taken is better than none at all—no matter the outcome.
“So what’s it going to be?” Sutton quirks a brow.
A soft snore cuts through the quiet, and we turn to find Evelyn fully passed out on the couch—mouth wide open.
“She’s probably tired from bedazzling that notebook,” I comment, gaping in shock when Sutton slaps a hand over my crossed legs.
“Don’t you dare avoid the topic of conversation!”
“Fine!” I decide on a whim. “I’ll try to make a move on him next weekend.”
“Good. That’s all I ask.” Sutton falls back with a satisfied smile. “But also, what was that thing about him driving you? If you’re talking about the Aviation Global Forum, it’s taking place in Chicago, and that’s a twelve-hour drive. Flying would have been much easier.”
I avoid the elephant in the room by grabbing a handful of popcorn and throwing it in her direction. Sutton giggles, then does the same.
The girls still don’t know the entire story. Maybe one day they will, but for now, I guess it’s safe with Nate.
When the thought of it hits me again, saliva thickens in my throat.
Nate wants me as badly as I want him—the only difference between us is that while he’s determined to keep his word, I’m looking to break them. It might be a harder task than expected, but Sutton’s right—no one has ever regretted trying.
A rustle from the couch announces Evelyn’s awakening. She sits up, blond hair sticking out in every direction as she rubs her fists over her eyes. “Are we all set to continue playing?” she asks, stifling a yawn.
Sutton nods enthusiastically while all I can think about is my plan of action.
Seven more days until I see him again.
And I guess, seven more days until I see how this thing between us plays out.