With a groan, I snatch my phone off the nightstand and kill the alarm. I stare at the screen. Don’t. A little voice inside my head whispers. My finger hovers over the Instagram icon. A little red circle with the number 20 sits in the top right-hand corner. I know what it is before I even click on it. Don’t. My brain pleads, but like a fucking idiot, I click.
That picture is the first thing on my feed. I’ve been tagged no less than ten times, and even the comments I’m not tagged in mention me by name. Fucking Noah. He wasn’t satisfied with having the entire town bowing and scraping at his feet. He had to take her too.
One month earlier
“I should get to class,” Truly murmurs against my lips. “I have a test and Mr. Whitiker locks the door after the last bell.”
I tuck her hair behind her ear and bop her on the nose. “Fuck Mr. Whitiker. You already got into Jameson. What’s one missed test?”
“Tell that to my dad.” She lifts up on her toes and presses a kiss onto my lips. “See you.”
“See you.”
She takes a few steps backwards before turning and heading to class. I’ve got Civics this period, which I don’t plan on attending, so instead, I make my way to the gym. I slip out the back door, head down to the track, and post up on the bleachers. I fish inside of my bookbag and grab my stash tin, retrieving my joint. The smoke burns my chest as I inhale, and I lean back against the cold metal.
“How’d I know I’d find your burnout ass here?” a voice says from above me.
I peek up and sneer at Noah. “The fuck do you want?”
He reaches for the joint, and I reluctantly hand it to him. Noah and I have been rivals since we were kids. Everyone in school knows it, but sometimes, when no one is watching, we meet on these bleachers and get high. We don’t speak, and after it’s over he goes back to ruling the school’s elite and I go back to The Grove with the misfits and the stoners.
He hits the joint, coughing a little as he hands it back to me. I stare at him. My little brother. We could pass for twins if not for the fact that he’s three inches taller than me and has about fifty pounds more muscle. But our face—Dad’s face—is undeniable.
“I wonder what he’d say if he could see us now,” Noah says, breaking the silence.
“Well, he killed himself, so he doesn’t get to judge. Also, we don’t talk, remember?”
Noah’s angry eyes find mine and he takes the joint. “I remember, but this isn’t a social visit.”
“Are they ever social visits, or are you just too cheap to find your own weed?”
Noah chuckles darkly and reaches into his pocket to pull out his wallet. He tosses a hundred-dollar bill on the bleachers between us and eyes me. “I have a job for you.” He juts his chin toward the money. “More where that came from if you agree.”
“I’m not killing your bastard stepfather,” I deadpan, although when we were kids he could have convinced me to do it for a lot less.
He arches a brow, a sadistic smirk dances on his lips. “If I wanted that fucker dead, I’d do it myself.” His voice is quiet, deadly, and I know enough about Noah’s history with his stepdad to know he isn’t just talking shit.
“What then?”
“Break up with her.”
“Truly?” I stare at him like he’s lost his damn mind. “I’d be more willing to kill him, than break up with her.” I laugh.
“I’m not joking,” he says in that eerily calm voice of his. “I’ll give you a thousand dollars.”
I stare at the joint in my hand and then back to my brother because it’s gotta be bad weed, right? “Why would I do that?”
“Why does it matter?” He leans back against the warm metal and crosses his legs at the ankle. His posture is relaxed even though I can tell by the twitch of his jaw that inside he’s anything but. He wants this. Why? I doubt I’ll ever really know, but it gives me some sick pleasure knowing I’ve got something he wants.
“Fuck off.” I chuckle, hitting the joint once more. “You can’t just buy people, asshole.”
“Two thousand.”
“Noah.” I shake my head at the absurdity of this conversation. “Whatever your game here is, it’s not going to work. Now run back to your sheep friends, cuz you’re kinda fucking up my high.”
“Three thousand,” he counters, still lying back like he’s got all the time and all the money in the world, which is partially true. His stepdad may be an abusive asshole, but he’s made a habit of buying Noah’s silence. Pair the unlimited bank roll, with his Godlike status on the basketball court and you’ve got all the ingredients for one psychotic prick.
I stub the glowing tip of the joint out and slip my bookbag over my shoulders. “You can take that three grand and shove it up your ass. Truly is mine.”
Noah stands as well, and it’s at times like these where I really fucking hate those extra three inches. “Five thousand dollars, and before you tell me to fuck off again, think about it. Truly will be at Jameson in the fall. How much longer do you think you’ll get to keep her, anyway?”
I suck in a breath because I’ve had those exact fears. People always leave; Truly won’t be any different than everyone else in my life. Can I really turn down five grand just to spend a few more months with a girl who’s already so far out of my league?
“What’s in this for you?”
His lips tip up into a wolfish grin. ”You’ve got until graduation to decide.”
I rub my eyes with the heel of my palm, trying to erase the memory. What’s done is done. I can’t keep fucking dwelling on it. I broke up with her. It shouldn’t matter that she’s with him now, but it does. It fucking guts me. I loved her. I still love her.
Fuck it.
I hit her contact and wait. A few moments later the operator’s voice speaks. I’m sorry, the number you’ve dialed cannot be reached at this time. Staring down at the phone I try her number again and again the operator comes on. “Fuck,” I hiss, fighting the urge to throw my phone out the fucking window. She blocked me. I deserve it, but I never thought she actually would.
I can feel my world starting to go black. The darkness in my chest spreads like a cancer, and the urge to destroy something takes over. I grab the lamp on my bedside table and throw it as hard as I can against the wall. It shatters on impact but does nothing to quiet the storm brewing in my chest.
I just need to talk to her, I tell myself clicking back into Instagram. Maybe I can message her there. The app pops open and my feed refreshes. A picture of Roni and Chloe from last night’s party jumps to the top of the page. I stare at it, my heart pounding in my chest. Her cheeks are flushed, and her big brown eyes are bright as she grins at the camera.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
My heart slows. The adrenaline flowing through my body dissipates, and I can’t help but smile at the picture. Her happiness is infectious. I toss my phone on the bed and suck in a ragged breath.
I broke up with Truly. Yes, it’s fucked up that she’s screwing my brother, but I pushed her into his arms because I was too selfish and self-destructive to do right by her.