Page 198 of Did They Break You

I turn my gaze to the woman unlucky enough to be sharing a bed with him and find a kind face staring back at me.

I blink, threading my fingers together under the table, my hands clammy.

She’s young, of course, not much older than me. She has dark, curly hair, olive skin, and deep brown eyes. Her smile seems genuine and she holds out a hand to me.

I take hers, embarrassed my own is sweaty and my nails are bitten and unpolished. I’d planned to paint them today, but then everything happened last night, and I didn’t get to it.

Hers, of course, are perfectly manicured in a light grey that matches her turquoise dress.

She’s beautiful.

Nice.

Why the fuck is she with Silas?

“Nice to finally meet you,” she says, but unlike my stepdad’s words, hers are softer, kinder. Genuine.

“You, too,” I tell her, perking up a little. Silas is a cunt, but maybe I’ll survive this by talking to Crystal. And being here, my guard up, I can’t think abouthim.

About my heart shattering all over again into pieces.

We drop hands, and she clears her throat, resting her hands on top of each other in her lap as she glances at the full wine glasses on the table, of hers and Silas’s. They have waters, too, but I guess I’ll have to wait for that.

“We’ve already ordered,” Silas says, “so look over what you want.”

Crystal laughs, and it’s warm. “There’s no rush, Silas.” There’s a scolding edge to her words, and I look between them, shocked.

Then I see it.

My stepdad’s face softens as he looks at his girlfriend. His jaw is still clenched because I’m here, but he doesn’t look as if he wants to strangle me in this moment.

He likes her.

He really, actually likes her.

Amazed, I pick up my menu, staring down at it. I find a salad, see it’s one of the cheaper things on the menu—where there are very few cheap things, but I don’t want to give Silas another reason to bitch at me—and fold the leather-bound menu up, setting it on the table as I lean back in my seat.

“How are classes going?” Crystal asks me, her long lashes fluttering as she shifts her gaze to me.

I nod. “Well,” I tell her. Except for that writing assignment I’m probably going to fail because I don’t want to actually turn in what I’ve written. “I’m really enjoying my creative writing class.”

I hear Silas scoff and honestly, I feel used to it.

Crystal cuts her eyes to him before looking back at me. “Do you want to be a writer?” she asks politely.

I swallow, looking down at the tablecloth. Silas still thinks my major is undeclared. I can change it, of course, but I’ve got nothing to change it to. I shrug. “It would be nice. Maybe journalism before I can get into?—”

“And have you applied to any internships?” Silas asks, reaching for his wine glass, red sloshing in the sides as he brings it to his lips.

I turn to face him. “Not yet but?—”

“I’d think, after being the focus of so many papers last year, you’d want nothing to do with the news in the future.”

There it is.

My face flames hotter and sweat beads on the back of my neck as he swallows from his glass, staring at me.

I shift in my seat, unable to look away from him as he pins me with his gaze, like I’m nothing.

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