Page 88 of Leah

I’d been sitting at my desk, playing a stupid video game because life had become boring, and I had nothing else to do. It was a game about building cities, and while that sounded as fun as watching paint dry, it made me feel in control ofsomethingaround me,

As she approached slowly, I spun my computer chair away from the desk and faced her. I stared at her hesitant movements and raised a brow.

“What is it?” I demanded cagily.

“I’m trying to figure out a way to tell you,” she answered cautiously.

I let out a slow breath. “What’s wrong, Mel?”

“Something big.”

A lightning bolt of alarm passed through my chest.

Was it about Carter?

Was she clutching a magazine of him taking back Molly, or something stupid like that?

I was sure he wouldn’t. He was certain of his want for me, and he wouldn’t do that. No. But… I hadn’t spoken to him since he left, and it killed me slowly that we left things off on such a bad note. I wanted to smooth things over, but then I knew I needed the distance too.

It was a one-of-a-kind fucked-up situation.

My being felt split in two.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I can deal with it,” I assured Melanie, even though I hardly believed my words. “I’ve seen it all, anyway. Every single picture, every single story, every horrible insult thrown my way. Hell, you have no idea how thick my skin is after going through the comment sections of these articles. Apparently, Carter decided to ‘slum’ it with a ‘homewrecker’ that looks like a ‘crack addict version of Barbie.’”

She paused in her movements, giving me a strange look. “Seriously?”

I smiled brightly. “That was a nice comment compared to the others.”

Her lips pursed. “It’s sort of funny—”

“I did laugh.”

She shook her head. “But it’s really not true.”

I shrugged weakly. “Can you imagine if they dug into my past? They’ll love that I’m the niece of a hooker—”

“Leah, ignore them.”

And I was.

Hence why I was building cities in my bedroom; my population was cracking sixty thousand, which was no easy feat in a game like this.

“Don’t read anymore of their crap,” she told me then.

I simply nodded.

The bloggers were incredibly creative in their insults. I had even admired some of their name-calling, writing a few insultsdown for future use in case I had a row with someone who was genuinely a bitch.

As she hesitated now, I stressed again, “I’ve seen itall, Melanie.”

“Nooo,” she said long and slow, shaking her head. “You haven’t seenthis.”

My eyes flickered down to the magazine before looking back up at her in confusion and, admittedly, fear. “How am I supposed to ignore something if you’re going to tell me about it?”

“Because this is different.”

“Just out with it, Mel. Seriously.”

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