My stomach knots up, and I feel sick as I look past Amias to Patrick.
“We’ve talked about this. I was gonna tell you for sure tomorrow, but yeah, stepping back a bit.”
I nod. “I understand.”
Yellow, fucking yellow anxiety over what I do to people, gnaws at me.
“You feeling okay?” Brisa asks.
“Just tired, is all.”
“I bet. Are you coming home with us so you can rest?”
“I’m hoping to stay in Italy for a while longer.”
“Right.” Antionette laughs. “The Spaniard. Marc is Italian. Matteo the Spaniard. Geographically, that makes your next lover what? A Frenchman, I assume.”
“What the hell is wrong with you? She just—”
“No,” I cut Brisa off, “Matteo is the final stop on the world tour.”
“Yeah?” She throws her head back in laughter. “You’re seventeen, Tris; how can you even know he’s ‘the one.’ After all, you thought Mar—”
“Because, if you even looked at Matteo like you were remotely interested in him, even knowing that he loves me in a way I’ve never been loved, even knowing he wouldn’t fuck you, I’d rip your heart out and stomp on it without a second thought.”
“So, Spanish dick is that good, huh?” She raises her glass.
“Shut the fuck up, Antionette,” Truth snaps. “Just shut the motherfucking fuck up. You are such a trifling fucking cuntbag and—”
“Babe,” Tobias, Truth’s boyfriend, looks shocked.
I mean, Truth’s no Disney princess like Brisa, but she just dropped some major F-bombs that even takes me by surprise.
“What?” she snaps at him, and Justice chuckles. “Sorry, Tobias, but not to her. Not that little bitch who ruined Tris’ high school experience. Not that snatch who tried sliding into your DMs, talking about, Oh, the West Side Crew is where it’s at.” She spins around and leans over the table. “You need to check yourself, miss thang. Because there is a fucking line that separates us and, as you can see, you weren’t given the password. Basically, bitch, you are fucking deni—”
“Okay, Truth’s had a few too many adult beverages at the concert.” My cousin, Bella, laughs as she grabs her arm. “Let’s you and I go powder our noses.”
“What’s my motherfucking name, Bell?”
“It’s Truth,” Bella says as she winks at me.
“That’s fucking right, it is,” she yells over her shoulder as they walk by the adult’s table.
Uncle Cyrus stands up. Hell, so do Jase, Xavier, and Dad.
“JT,” Cyrus yells over to Justice. “What’s that all about?”
“It’s all good, Dad, it’s all good.” Justice chuckles.
I’m so thankful that they thought to rent out one of the private dining rooms for this dinner, because at least there wouldn’t be any pics or videos online about how fucked up I am again tomorrow.
“You okay?”
“No, and at least I can admit it now. I’m going up. Tell Dad and Mom I’ll see them in the room.”
“I can go with.” Brisa pushes her chair back in synch with mine.
“No, I need—”
“She needs some Tris time.” Amias lifts his chin at me then glares back across the table in Cessca’s direction. “You better fucking check yourself.”
“Whatever. Jesus, it’s no big deal.”
I stand up. “Thanks for hanging. Might see some of you tomorrow.” I look at Cessca. “But not you. You and I can be the kind of relatives who are cordial at mandatory family shit, but I have no desire to see you tomorrow.” I drop my napkin. “You make me sick.”
“Yeah, and I’m supposed to care why?”
“That line Truth was just talking about, you drew it.”
“Why? Because your boyfriend chose me over—”
“Yeah, about that. How did I taste?”
“What?” she gasps.
“You sucked his dick that frequented my vag.” Red … fucking red. “So, how did I—”
“That’s disgusting.” My forces a laugh as he stands, grabs my hand, and whispers, “Let’s walk.”
“I don’t need—”
“Fuck you don’t,” he mumbles as he walks out to the exit opposite the direction the parents’ table is.
As soon as we’re out in the lobby, My drops my hand, grabs my shoulders, kisses my head, and nods toward the elevators. “Go. Hide somewhere they’ll find you when they go up so they don’t freak and do your chill down thing.”
“I’m perfectly fucking chill,” I snap.
“Yeah? I wouldn’t be. She’s a cuntasaurus.”
“Just be happy you share DNA, or she’d be trying to slide into yours.”
“Her evening Snaps are bad enough. Girl’s got issues, Tris.”
“She Snaps you? That bitch Snaps you?”
“Word is she Snaps everyone with a dick one pic, and her female friends another.”
He’s not telling me something, hiding something. “And …?”
“Not your problem, not mine either ever since—”
“Spill it.”
“You don’t say shit.”
“Fine. What? No, fuck that. I don’t even care.”
He nods toward the elevator bank. “Go, Tris. Go find your chill.”
Storming toward the corridor that leads to the elevator, knowing the static is looming, I turn back. “Where has Max been all night?”
He rolls his eyes. “Go.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Fine.”
As soon as I turn the corner, I practically run into him—Marc.
I hurry around him, mumbling, “God, could this night get any fucking worse?”
He grabs my arm and spins me to face him. “The fuck do you know about a bad night, Tris?”
I jerk my arm back. “I don’t know … having dinner with everyone like nothing has changed when everything has.”
“You leave Jersey without saying goodbye after we threw everything out on the table. The dust was fucking clear, I understood why you hide from me, pushed me away, and I thought you got I only did that shit in retaliation.”
I step back as he steps forward. “Marc, don’t.”
“Our shit’s unpacked, all sprawled out and messy for everyone to see, Tris. It has been for a long-ass time. You need to come home.”
“That’s not home!” I yell.
“Then let me know where home is and when you’re sick of living out of a fucking suitcase.”
Back against the wall, fists balled at my side, I shake my head. “We’re never getting back together. I thought you understood that.”
He looks me up and down like I’m pathetic. “You’re so fucked up you don’t see it.”
“This conversation is over, but this feeling, it will remain. I tried to do this the right way, but it obviously didn’t work. We’re done. I wish we could be friends, but you look at me like that and it tells me that I’m not the only one fucked up. Now get out of my face.”