Page 45 of Unhinged Love

He doesn’t even bother saying anything before he gets out of the truck and slams the door. It’s times like this I can’t help but worry he’s going to send those pictures around the way he’s been threatening. I don’t want to believe he would, but can I really afford to put it past him? I just don’t know, and that’s maybe the worst part of all—the not knowing. Always waiting for the worst.

We don’t have a class together on Tuesdays, thank god. It’s bad enough having to ignore the faint snickers and whispers I still hear as I walk across campus. It’s not as bad as it was before. Maybe they’re getting tired of me, ready to move on to someone else. But I still hear it.

Though sometimes, even though it makes me feel ungrateful, I would rather push through and ignore the bullying than face kindness. I’m used to bullying. Kindness? I’m still not sure how to act.

Which is why I feel myself closing off when a familiar duo catches sight of me as I pass the library. “Hey! Elliana!” Wren chirps like the bird she’s named after. “How was the wedding?”

“Meet us at the cafeteria after class!” Maya calls out. “We want to hear all about it!”

Well, at least this way I can prepare myself for the hangout. That’s easier than being bombarded and descended on all at once. I hate that I even think about it that way, but the girls are just as overwhelming sometimes as they are sweet and friendly.

I wave with a smile before continuing on my way, prepared to tell them all about how cringe the day was. It was embarrassing—especially once Mom set the champagne aside and started drinking the hard stuff—but I would rather think about that than the humiliation in the kitchen yesterday. I still don’t understandwhat set him off in the first place, which is kind of terrifying. How can I avoid situations like that when I don’t know what started it?

That question is still on my mind by the time I head for the cafeteria. It only hits me once I’m through the glass doors that the girls didn’t say whether it would only be the three of us or not. Are their boyfriends going to be hanging out with us?

In other words, will Carter be there, since he’s glued to their sides?

It’s too late to back out now. The girls are sitting at the usual table—there must be some invisible reserve sign on it that keeps other people from sitting there—and they must have been looking out for me, because now they’re both smiling and waving me over. This is the kind of thing normal people do all the time. They have lunch with friends and talk about what happened over the weekend. As much as I wish most of the time that the rest of the world would leave me alone, I can’t pretend there isn’t a part of me that wants to live the way other people do. I can’t afford to pass up opportunities like this, where people seek me out and ask me to be their friend.

And I can’t, for any reason, allow Carter to dictate what I do. It would be one thing to turn the girls down because I’m overwhelmed or feeling shy. But to consider turning on my heel and bolting because there’s a chance I might see him? I can’t give him that power.

He already has too much as it is.

“So we want all the details.” Wren bounces up and down in her seat as I plop down across from her. “Did you take pictures? How did you look?”

“I didn’t really think to take any pictures—but we got a million of them from the photographer. As soon as we get the proofs back, I’ll show them to you.”

“Were there any tragic drunken speeches? That’s one of my favorite parts,” Maya teases, making Wren laugh.

“Actually, I left before everyone got too drunk.” And I really, truly wish the memory didn’t make me feel so warm all of a sudden. He was more human on Saturday night. He acted like a regular, almost decent person.

Everything changed the night before that, too. When we had sex. And then it was nice again on Sunday. It’s like being on a roller coaster all the time. Stupid me, not carrying my motion sickness pills around.

Thinking about him means I can’t pay full attention to the girls as they talk about what they did this weekend. Not that I really need to pay close attention since I know whatever it was, it revolved around their guys. It’s not that I’m jealous or anything like that. It’s just that I can’t relate. Even though they both go out of their way to make me feel included, there are times like this when I can’t share much of myself. I really wish that wasn’t so. All I can do is sit back and listen to their stories and laugh when it seems like that’s what I should do.

“There’s the most beautiful girl I know.” I’m just as surprised as Wren when Briggs comes up out of nowhere and wraps his arms around her from behind.

Tucker does the same thing with Maya, nuzzling her neck while she squeals and giggles. “Too hungry to wait for us?” he asks before dropping into a chair next to hers.

How naïve can I be, thinking it would just be the three of us? But my heart doesn’t really drop until Carter sits practically at the other end of the table from where I am. Not that I would ever complain that he’s keeping his distance.

Oh, who am I kidding? I was actually starting to think he wasn’t so bad for roughly three seconds there—feeling strangely touched that he would go out of his way to be kind. Just because he’s acting the way he is now doesn’t erase the feelings thatwere starting to bloom in me, no matter how much I pretend otherwise.

I can hardly bring myself to glance his way. What has to happen to a person to inspire the kind of chaos that boils in him all the time? Why am I even asking myself that question? He is an enigma, and I don’t have the time or the energy to solve him.

“Elliana.” One of the twins—I still can’t tell the difference between Preston and Easton—grins my way as he unwraps a sandwich. “It was a shame you didn’t come swimming with us yesterday.”

I’m looking at him, but I can see Carter from the corner of my eye. That means I notice when Carter’s spine stiffens, and he sits up straighter, scowling down at his lunch like it insulted him. I wonder what his friends would think of him if I told them what he did to me after they left.

I wouldn’t have the nerve to tell them. I would be too humiliated. That doesn’t mean I can let the opportunity to score a point pass by. “Maybe next time,” I offer with a grin I don’t feel.

It doesn’t matter if I mean it or not. It makes Carter shoot me a dirty look nobody else notices. His blue eyes look black as they burn holes into me. I don’t care. He can choke on whatever it is that’s making him act this way—probably jealousy that he’s not the center of attention, the way he so clearly has to be at all times.

“Elliana was telling us about the wedding,” Wren explains to Carter, sounding playful and giggly. “I bet you had an amazing time, with half the married women in town clawing at each other to dance with you.”

“Not half. Maybe a third.” He is so good at pretending to be better than he is, nicer than he is. It’s a costume he puts on and takes off at will.

And when everybody else is busy chatting or eating, he lets that persona slip away long enough to narrow his eyes at me.Does it really bother him so much to know one of his friends is willing to acknowledge me? Can he be that immature?

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