I get to the door and stop before I leave. “I believe you. I wanted you to know that before I left since I don’t know where we go from here. I’m breaking girl code or whatever by not trusting my best friend when you’ve given me every reason not to trust you. But for some reason, I do.”
He leans in and places a chaste kiss on my lips. There’s so much to say and not enough time.
“I’ll talk to you as soon as I can,” he promises, but I’m not sure it’s one he can keep.
I get into my car as tears stream down my cheeks. None of this was supposed to happen this way. I’m losing a guy I really care about in the same day I found out my best friend potentially stabbed me in the back.
No one said life was easy, but I didn’t think it could ever be this cruel or hard.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Bria
By the time I leave Tatum’s place, it’s dark out and I missed an entire day of classes, but I don’t care. I have a bunch of unanswered questions and there’s only one person I can talk to about it.
I open the door to my house and storm inside, scanning the room for my best friend.
“Is Morgan around?” I ask as she comes out of the bathroom.
“I’m right here, babe.” She walks over to me with concern etched on her features. Her brown hair is piled on her head and her green eyes take me in. “Is everything okay? What did he do this time?” She grits out the words with malice and part of me doesn’t blame her.
“God, this is so stupid,” I mutter and drag a hand through my blonde hair. I glance at my best friend, not wanting to say the accusatory words yet needing to all at the same time. “He, uh, he told me you blackmailed him and took his story to the media or something. I don’t know. It’s ridiculous,” I whisper so no one overhears.
She doesn’t say anything. Her face forms a mask that slowly crumbles and gets replaced with spite. There’s a long pause and the air between us is full of both tension and confusion. Before Morgan has a chance to speak, Sam of all people barks out a laugh.
“God, you’re fucking stupid. How could you not see what was right in front of you? Oh, right, because you’re self-absorbed and don’t give a damn about anyone but yourself.”
She walks over to where Morgan and I are standing in the middle of the living room and slings an arm over my supposed best friend’s shoulders.
“There’s a lot you don’t know, Bria,” Sam tells me, and if I could pick my jaw off the ground I’d be able to ask the questions I need answers to.
“Why?” I stare at Morgan as Sam starts to speak. “Shut the hell up, Sam. I’m not talking to you. Tell me why, Morgan. What did I ever do to you?”
“You stole my boyfriend and you practically stole Sam’s life.”
“What the hell are you talking about? What boyfriend?”
“Ben, you idiot.”
“Ben? You wanted to date Ben? The serial cheater?”
“You knew I liked him when you went out with him.”
“Well, I think I got my karma when he cheated on me with anyone who walked past him and then tried to assault me.”
“And he didn’t succeed.”
“Excuse me?” My stomach drops and bile climbs up my throat.
She rolls her eyes. “For fucks sake, he wasn’t going to rape you. He was going to film you and release the tape.” My jaw drops at her cavalier attitude. I can’t believe my ears. “You stomp around here like you own the place. You stole Sam’s captain position, her starting spot, and my boyfriend. Then you go around sleeping with our coach. You’re such a slut.”
“You’re not special, which is why Tatum kicked you to the curb and got with Morgan instead.” Sam is smug but her story falls short. I’m glad I listened to my gut and chose Tatum, because my “best friend” is a lying, scheming, backstabbing bitch.
“Really? Because last I checked, he fucked me in his bed an hour ago.” I stomp away, but the chilling tone of my arch nemesis stops me.
“Maybe I should tell my sister that the predator fucked his player. She’s the one who broke the story about him anyway. You saw Meredith on the news, right?”
“Your sister is Meredith Hale?”
“Damn, you really are slow.”
The two of them laugh and I run upstairs, ready to be sick.
I can’t even relax in my room knowing I share it with the succubus herself. What am I going to do? Where am I going to go?
I call Tatum but he doesn’t answer. With hesitance, I walk to Lindsay and Sydney’s room. I knock on the door and they both look up.
“Did you guys know?” They’re confused. Apparently, they missed the show downstairs. “About Morgan and Sam and their vendetta against me.”
“What?” Lindsay shoots off her bed and walks over to me. “No, what are you talking about?” Her eyes crinkle with concern and she leads me to her bed. I sit beside her and Syd comes on my other side.
I tell them everything and they seem genuine when they tell me they didn’t know anything. I ask if I can crash in their room and they agree to let me.
Even so, I can’t fall asleep. My mind is wired and I don’t feel like I can trust anyone. Between finals, playoffs, and now all of this drama, my brain won’t turn off.
I just need to get through these last few weeks and then I’m one semester away from freedom. And hopefully, somewhere in there, things with Tatum will get squared away.
Paxton mentioned Tatum wasn’t going to be with us for the rest of the playoffs. He didn’t say why or bring up the allegations or anything, but we all already know. The reminder of what my backstabbing not-so-best-friend did pisses me off.
Lindsay and I team up for the next playoff game. We ice out Morgan and Sam despite Paxton yelling at us to pass the ball. We come out on top, beating the east coast school three to two.
With the win, I call Tatum, but he’s still dodging my calls. I put my phone away and lean my head back against the seat. We have one more game on the road before we head back home to take finals.
The days pass in a blur. I don’t even know the name of the next team we’re up against. All I know is we win by the skin of our teeth.
On the trip home, I’m lost in my own world. Thoughts run through my head and though I keep trying to contact Tatum, I know I should stop. He’s being smart, not answering my calls. Even though I was part of this decision, it still stings.
Finals pass in a heartbeat and I feel like my mind is both overflowing with information and somehow also devoid of everything I’ve learned.
I’m waiting to hear back about a few grad schools I applied to since the whole becoming a soccer pro thing fell through. I still don’t know why I’m so upset over it since I never wanted it to begin with.
I think it’s residual sadness and anger over everything else happening and I can’t seem to let it go. But now I’m back on track, applying to grad programs to study Occupational Therapy which is what I’ve always wanted to do.
I guess I thought I’d be happier at the prospect of graduating. Instead, I’m already feeling the loss. The past four years have been nothing but a lie and now I’m faced with that fact every day.