Page 8 of Never Been Worse

A glance at the clock tells me it’s nearly two, and considering I went to bed well after midnight, that makes sense.

“I genuinely am concerned, Harper,” Ava says with a sigh, looking at me with soft eyes.

”Ava—“ I start, but she shakes her head.

“And so is Jules.”

That stops me because Jules hasn’t said anything about being worried about me, instead giving me the space I asked for. But clearly, my friends have been talking about me, and Ava decided today she’s done with my moping.

“I know the media is hard right now, but eventually, you have to step out into the world and say fuck it.”

Since our arrest, Jeremy, with his ties as the head of marketing for Astor, and his new heiress girlfriend, have decided to step into society together and use my brush with the law to paint me in the absolute worst light. It seems they want to make sure I’ll have no credibility if I start to run my mouth. “I appreciate it. Really, I do—” I start, but she cuts me off again.

“The media sucks,” she says. “Trust me, Harper, I’ve seen it all.”

“But you got past it and made everyone love you,” I say with a grumble because even though Ava had her own run-ins with the press, they were never truly cruel and out to destroy her in the way I’m experiencing.

“And you will too, but not if you smell like Fritos and BO.” I cringe at the description, and she gives me a small, apologetic look. “Sorry, sometimes being too honest is the way to go.”

I hate to admit it, but she’s probably right. The best way to get through to me is with absolute honesty, and looking around, I know this isnothow I want to live my life.

Jeremy might have won this round and is in the process of destroying my reputation, but if I live like this, he won the whole fucking game, and I don’t know if I’m okay with that.

It’s been two weeks since what I’ve been calling theglitter incident,and my reputation hasneverbeen worse.

While we were at the diner laughing and eating after Jaime bailed us out, Clarissa, Jeremy’s new little girlfriend, began her smear campaign. She told any news outlet that would listen to her that I was the crazy ex ruining their lives.

The pitchforks from the public are out, demanding my downfall, and as social media tends to do, no one cares about the truth or theother sideof it all, not when there’s an attractive man with a sob story and a woman they can villainize. While I may have left the police station without a formal charge, I am being tried in the court of public opinion, and I am losing.

Bad.

So far, according to them, I’m an unstable and talentless hack who had Jeremy and Clarissa helping me with my designs all along. Let’s not forget about being a jealous ex who is out to ruintrue love. The two have been claiming they’d been together for months (probably true), and Jeremy and I have been broken up for even longer (news to me), and I simply haven’t gotten over it.

The last isdecidedlyuntrue. The uncomfortable truth is I’m realizing I don’t know if I ever was inlovewith Jeremy or if I’d just grown comfortable in the illusion of our relationship.

I’ve had to turn off comments on my social media channels when all of the heiress’s friends and fans started coming after me, calling me crazy and telling me to leave Jeremy alone, even though I would never even think of the man again if I didn’t have to.

The only saving grace seems to be that it’s not impacting my current clients or pageant work. I’m hoping, like all drama, this will fade behind me when the next new scandal comes along, and I’ll be able to just coast on.

Hopefully.

I think.

“Come on,” Ava says, leaning into the small bathroom and turning on the shower. “Get in there.”

“Ava, this isn’t?—”

“It is, because we have…” She looks at the time on her phone before looking back at me with fierce eyes like she knows I’m going to argue. “Four hours to get you ready.” Moving toward the kitchenette, she reaches into one of the lower cabinets and finds one garbage bag left in the pack.

“Four hours?” I ask.

Ava opens the bag and starts throwing the empty cups into them one by one. “Yup. We’ve got a charity auction to go to.”

Instantly, I shake my head. “No. Thank you so much, but no, Ava.”

“That’s so crazy, I don’t remember telling you you had a choice,” she says, not missing a beat as she continues to gather up my trash. I should be embarrassed, but I can’t seem to garner it, and after ten years of friendship, this is just what we do for one another.

“I can’t go, Ava. It’s…. It’s too much.”

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