Bonus Chapter 2
My phone rings again and her face lights up the screen. I still can’t believe what she did. How badly she betrayed me and with my fucking father. In my house. At my party where anyone could see.
This whole time, Savvy had been right about her. She was just a slut looking for attention and popularity. How she had me fooled for so long, I’ll never know.
When did my best friend change? I still can’t believe I was saved from spilling my heart to her. Telling her how much I loved her and wanted her to be my girlfriend. I knew deep down in my soul she was the girl I was going to marry.
I was a damn idiot.
My phone pings, alerting me to another voicemail. Even after I’ve had all my friends shun her at school, and treat her like shit, she still chases after me like a dog in heat.
I’ve barely lifted the phone to listen to her pathetic ass message when she’s calling again.
Finally fed up, I answer the call.
“Wesley, you answered.” She cries through the line.
“Yeah, I did. Now fucking stop calling me Sierra. I thought I made it clear I don’t want you calling or talking to me. I don’t even want you breathing the same air that I am.” My voice raises with each word until I’m practically screaming at her.
“Wesley, why…why?” She sobs into the line. I roll my eyes, trying to make my heart forget how much I care for her, that I love her.
Loved.
After what she did to me, to my family, there’s no way I can ever love her now. I hate her and what she did.
“You know why, Sierra. I hate you. You’re nothing more than a skank whore. I can’t believe I ever thought of you as a friend.”
No, not just a friend. She was so much more to me. She was my everything. Then she spit on it as if I meant nothing to her.
“Wesley, please, what did I do?”
“I’m tired of your fucking games. Stop calling me and I hope you’re prepared for what's coming your way. If I were you, I’d drop out of school now.”
“Wes—”
I don’t give her a chance to finish. I end the call, throwing my phone on the bed as I head out of my room. I need something to drink and if she calls again, I don’t think I can resist picking up the phone just to hear her voice.
I run down the stairs, my footsteps heavy against the hardwood as I make my way toward the kitchen. As I get closer to the kitchen doorway, I hear my father’s deep voice and halt in my steps, not really wanting to face him, either.
My father was once my hero. Now, well, I despise him.
"Wesley," my dad calls out.
My jaw clenches before I respond. "Yes, sir.” I take a deep breath, then force my feet to move forward, making my way into the kitchen.
My father barely looks up from his coffee. "How’s football going? Are we making it to the playoffs?"
"Yes, sir. I think we have a good shot this year." I mentally roll my eyes, hating that he cares more about my playing the sport than how I’m doing academically.
Dad nods approvingly. "Good, son. That’s good. Make sure to be on your A-game when the college scouts are out. Even though you’re not close to graduating, we still want them to notice you."
“Okay.” I don’t give him anything more. Instead I head over to the fridge, pulling out a can of soda and popping the tab. I lift it to my mouth and take a large swallow, letting the cold liquid settle the bitterness rising in my throat.
“Don’t drink too many of those. The sugar isn’t good for you. It’ll make you sluggish on the field.”
I sigh heavily. Fuck if he can even ruin a fucking soda. His words aren’t even true. I can guarantee you professional players are drinking things far worse than a soda and are killing it on the field. But when he doesn’t take his eyes off me, I give him a thumbs up.
“This will be my last.” It’s a lie, but I don’t fucking care.
"Where’s Sierra?" he asks out of the blue. "She hasn’t been around since the party."
My body goes stiff, my fingers tightening around the can.
Of course, he’d be asking about her. His little perfect girl.
His favorite. His slut. Makes me wonder if that was the first time they’d been together or if they’d been hooking up behind my back for a while.
Is that why she always liked coming over to my house?
I mean, my house is better than the run-down apartment she lives in.
"Don’t know," I mutter, my words coming out short and bitter.
Dad doesn’t seem to notice the tone of my voice—or maybe he just doesn’t care. "You should have her over for dinner tonight. We could order some pasta from Angelo’s. If I remember correctly, it’s her favorite."
I exhale slowly, gripping the soda can so tightly. I don’t respond right away, and just stare at the can, pretending I can see the bubbly liquid inside. I’m not sure what angers me more—my father’s casual tone or the fact that Sierra is still lingering in this house, even when she isn’t here.
“I’m sure she’s busy, but I’ll ask her.” Another lie; I’m never asking that bitch over again. “But I need to go. I’m picking Jack up and we’re going to do some studying.” It amazes me at how easily the lies are rolling off my tongue now.
I take the stairs two at a time and make it to my room. It’s time to make the bitch pay. I head straight for my bed and pick up the phone. I know the perfect person to initiate Sierra’s punishment for fucking up my life.
Me: I want Sierra ended. Spread the word. No one is to be her friend. She’s to be treated like the scum she is.
Savannah: On It.
I pick up my key from the dresser and head out of my room. Meeting up with Jack actually sounds good right about now.