Erin
For the first time, I hate that my plan is falling into place.
Ever since Kip broke up with me, I have been scheming to get him back. I knew I would, it was just a matter of time.
And the first step in my plan? Prove myself right about Skyler.
I had to know she had betrayed me, that she was the reason he broke up with me.
I knew it in my gut the moment he said we were done, but I had to play my cards right.
I opened up to Skyler, told her I understood and I was sorry I ever put her through my stupid plan.
And tonight, getting ready for our second night out on Spring Break, I mentioned being ready to move on — to bring a guy home.
I put up the front that I was over Kip, and just like I knew she would, Skyler took the bait.
She’s been staring at him all night.
At least for the past week, they’ve been trying to hide their relationship. Tonight, there might as well be a blinking neon heart hanging over them with arrows pointed at each of their heads.
And even though I know it’s working, even though I know she’ll reveal everything soon, it hurts. I thought it wouldn’t, thought I could be strong enough to brush it off. But when I watch him watch her, I know they’ve touched. When I see her smile at him, I know they’ve laughed.
And in my heart, I know my own Little betrayed me.
It wasn’t fair, what I asked of her, but I never imagined she’d go behind my back and be with Kip, anyway.
What hurts the most is that she did it while I was still with him — before I even had the chance to see if we could make it work.
Kip is mine, he’s supposed to be with me, but she just couldn’t stand it.
I know I hurt her, and I know I’m not perfect — but what she did to me is worse.
I’ve been drinking too much. I realized that earlier on the island, but lost the ability to care.
Instead, I kept drinking, and now, at almost midnight, everything is blurry.
I can’t even hide my glares toward Skyler, or my longing stares toward Kip.
I can’t hide the fact that I’m two seconds away from losing my shit. But I have to.
I have to hold it together.
The piano bar is packed to the brim, and after the third round of “Benny and the Jets”, I’m about ready to throw in the towel for the night and head up to my room. But just when the thought crosses my mind, I see Kip being shoved toward the piano by his brothers, all of them chanting his name.
I blink through the fog in my head, leaning against the bar as I focus on Kip. He slides behind the piano with a wry grin as the cruise ship pianist stands, microphone in hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m told we have a pretty good piano player here on board from Palm South University,” he says.
The entire bar erupts into cheers — even the brothers of Omega Chi.
Somehow, a sort of bond has been formed between the opposing fraternities, though I’m skeptical it will last past this week.
Kip seems almost shy at the piano, his cheeks reddening as everyone starts chanting his name. I open my mouth to join in, but can’t be sure if I actually do.
I’m really, really drunk.
After a moment, his hands move over the keys, a soft melody filling the bar. “Go easy on me, guys,” he says into the microphone, and every girl — including me — melts into a puddle on the floor.
How could we not?
Kip’s wearing a hot pink button-up, the sleeves shoved up to his elbows, hair mussed, and of course, he’s wearing his damn glasses — which apparently make every girl weak.
But all I can stare at is the eyes behind those frames as he starts playing a familiar song, and as soon as he leans into the mic and sings the first line, the entire bar goes silent.
And his eyes lock onto Skyler.
My stomach rolls, every shot of alcohol threatening to make a reappearance as he belts out the ballad. He doesn’t take his eyes of Skyler, and every smooth croon of his voice enhances my urge to vomit. I know I’ll never hear this Michael Bublé song the same again, and I know I’ll never want to.
I hate it. I hate him.
I hate her.
As it always does when I’m drinking, time passes in a morphed loop, the song seeming to replay over and over even when Kip finishes and stands from behind the piano.
The bar is alive with cheers, everyone clapping and chanting his name again, but that’s nothing compared to how loud they are when Skyler jumps behind the piano with him.
Then, time slows down.
Every cheer morphs, the sounds muted, and I watch in slow motion as Skyler grabs Kip by his collar and pulls his lips to hers.
Somehow, I know the crowd is louder, but I only hear a ringing in my ears.
I blink, trying to decipher what I feel, but everything is numb.
Just like it was when I aborted my child.
Just like it was when four men pushed inside of me without me saying they could.
It’s defense mode, a method of survival.
I’m no longer a human with feelings and fears. I’m a machine — an unbreakable force.
Or maybe I’m nothing at all.
“Ex…” Jess starts, her hand reaching for my wrist. “You okay?”
I sniff, forcing a smile and blinking away the fog. “I’m good! I’m going to go find someone to fuck.”
Ashlei’s eyes widen at that. “Maybe you should just chill tonight, you’ve been drinking a lot.”
“I’m fine.”
“I don’t know, Grand Big,” Cassie chimes in. “Maybe we should just go back to the room.”
“I said, I’m fine,” I say louder. “If you girls want to call it a night, be my guest. I’m going to the club.”
I don’t wait for them to answer before I’m pushing through the crowd, avoiding Kip and Skyler at all costs. A hand wraps around my wrist from behind, and I whip around, ready to unleash my anger on Jess and tell her to fuck off and leave me alone.
But it isn’t Jess.
It’s Clinton.
His grip on me softens, but he doesn’t let me go, his brows bent into a hard line over his dark eyes.
“Let me go,” I demand, but I don’t rip away from him. I don’t have the strength.
“Only if you talk to me.”
I scoff. “What is there to talk about?”
“I don’t know, maybe you should tell me. Because clearly you’re not okay right now.” He shakes his head. “What’s going on? What’s happening with you and Sky, with you and this new kid?”
I finally rip my wrist from his hands, tucking my arms over my chest. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
My heart squeezes, facade dropping at his words. I trail my eyes up his broad chest to lock on his, and the sympathy I find there, the genuine care — it nearly kills me. I want to fall into him, to break in his arms, to let him fix me.
But he can’t.
No one can.
“Please, Erin,” he tries again, his hand reaching for mine.
I let him take it, let him thread his fingers with my own. Black and white, large and small, hard and soft. We don’t make sense, and yet Clinton is the only one who can make me feel anything at all anymore.
“Talk to me. Let me help you. I…” He pauses, wetting his lips. “You’re not alone, okay? Even when you feel like you are. I’m here.”
My eyelids flutter, the threat of tears stinging my throat so strongly I nearly let them fall. But instead, I pull my hand from his, my mother’s voice loud in my foggy mind as I steel myself.
“I am alone,” I whisper. “And I prefer it that way.”
His chest deflates. “Erin.”
“Goodnight, Bear.”
I turn and leave him behind, along with the rest of my morals. It’s like I lost the very last piece of myself in that bar, in that moment, and now I’m just the black, charred shell of a woman who once was. I only want justice. I only want what’s rightfully mine.
I only want revenge.
And I don’t care who I hurt, or who I lose — I will get it.