Abby Ryan has her whole life planned out, up until graduation that is. As a journalism student at the University of Southern Washington, she has one goal in mind for her last semester of senior year: secure a scholarship for graduate school. But whe...
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I stay here, cuddled up to Jenny in the middle of this busy bar as I try to concentrate on anything other than where Tristan might end up in a few months. I don't know if it's because she's also incredibly drunk or just because she can tell that I need this, but she doesn't ask me what's going on as she holds me, rubbing my back in gentle circles. It isn't until her arms stiffen around me that I pull back, and when her eyes widen as her lips pop open, I follow her gaze over my shoulder to the other side of the bar.
It takes me a few seconds to figure out what she's looking at, but when I catch sight of Nia and Emery, my heart sinks. I don't need to be over there to know what's happening; it's clear on her face. The color from her usually rosy cheeks quickly pales, and while he's still talking, I can tell by her distant, glossy gaze that she's not really paying attention, not anymore. She's trying not to cry, biting the inside of her cheek as she nods. When she finally turns around, she straightens her shoulders and walks through the crowd, stone-faced and distant, until her eyes flick up to meet ours. That's when she cracks. That's when the current of tears finally breaks the surface and floods down her cheeks.
"Oh no, babe. Come here," Jenny murmurs as she slides off her stool, wrapping her arms around her. I slide off my stool to rub her back, and when her muffled sob echoes softly around us, my chest tightens.
"He said he didn't want anything more—that I wasn't exactly girlfriend material." She pulls back, wiping away the trail of tears as inconspicuously as possible. Her black mascara has somehow stayed in place, and when her wide brown eyes meet mine, I can't stop the rush of anger that sears through me.
"Not girlfriend material? Who does he think he is?" I snap. "He was lucky that you even gave him the time of day, Nia. That you even let him breathe in your vicinity. That you graced him with your presence. Not girlfriend material?" I'm genuinely in shock as I stare at her because if anyone in this entire building—in this entire city, state, country, universe—is girlfriend material, it's my best friend. "What a—what a stupid—he's such a—" I'm at a loss for words, rambling, trying to grasp for something to describe how utterly insane this entire thing is.
Not girlfriend material?
"He's a fucking douchebag," Jenny supplies, grabbing Nia's hand.
"A complete fucking douchebag," I agree quickly. "A total dick head."
Nia's lips perk a little as she looks between us.
"He is kind of a dick." She nods, wiping her nose.
"Which is pretty brave for a guy with that hairline." Jenny crosses her arms across her chest. "You'd think he'd tread carefully."
Nia's eyes widen at that, and I bite down on my lip to keep from laughing until her shocked laugh echoes between us. It bubbles out of her, and when her lips pull up into a smile, my chest eases slightly because it reaches her eyes.
