Bad Rep (23 page)

“Maysie, I'm so sorry,” she said, putting her hand on top of mine.  We sat like that for a few minutes but then I got achingly to my feet.  There was no doubt I'd be feeling shitty in the morning.  And not just from the bitch fight.

“I want to go to bed,” I rasped, my voice sounding like I had been gargling with glass.  Gracie got to her feet as well. 

“Do you want me to stay?  I mean, I could keep you company,” Gracie offered, looking worried about leaving me by myself.

But I just wanted to be alone.  I didn't want to talk. I didn't want the looks of sympathy and concern. I only wanted to sleep and pretend that this was all a bad dream.  At least for a little while. 

“No, that's okay.  You head on home.  Riley will be here in a bit I'm sure,” I told her.  Gracie gave me a quick hug. 

“Olivia was wasted.  I'm sure she'll feel like shit in the morning for attacking you,” Gracie said.  I shook my head. 

“I hooked up with her boyfriend. I'm sure she'll just regret not doing a better job.” I touched the scratches on my neck and grimaced.

Gracie sighed.  “You'll ride this one out.  Give it a few days and everyone will move onto another scandal. It's the nature of the college gossip chain.  You'll see,” Gracie promised.  But I didn't believe her. 

Though I tried to smile, for her sake.  “Thanks, Gracie.  You're a good friend.” Gracie hugged me again. 

“Okay, well then, I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow.  If you need anything, call me,  okay?”  I nodded, following her to the front door.  “You're one tough cookie.  You'll come out of this swinging.  I know it!” I wished I shared just a fraction of her positivity.  But I was all tapped out. 

“Sure thing,” I replied, closing the door behind her.  I went to my room, not bothering to turn on the light.  I took off my dress and threw it on the floor.  I lay down on my bed, too exhausted to turn back the covers.  I stared at my ceiling, my mind going a thousand miles a minute.  My life was over.  I was sure of it. 

My phone chirped from my bedside table.  I wanted to ignore it, but instead I leaned over and grabbed it, turning the screen on.  A text from Jordan waited for me.  I didn't even have the energy to wonder how he got my number.

Are you alright?  Please let me know you got home safely!  I'm so sorry about all of this.  We need to talk. ~Jordan

I debated whether I should respond.  But finally, I caved. 

I'm fine.  Talk soon.

Then I deleted his message and turned my phone off.  Because right now, I was done with talking.

Chapter Thirteen

It was day one of “Maysie goes into hiding.”  It felt like being in a leper colony.  Or having some sort of serious social phobia.  But I had to stay in my safe little bubble.  Off the grid.  Until everything blew over.  Or the world ended in a fiery apocalypse.  Whichever came first.

I woke up Sunday morning, my body aching and sore from my brief stint as a WWE wrestler.  I debated whether I should turn on my phone.  Then even more strongly debated whether I should just chuck it out the window.  But I wanted to make sure I answered it if Gracie called.  She was my lifeline to the outside world at the moment.

So I powered up my phone and chewed my thumb nail while I waited to see what would greet me.  And I was both relieved and depressed to see that there were no missed texts.   No new voice mails.  Nothing.  It
was
like I had fallen off the face of the Earth. 

I had really thought that Jordan would try and contact me again.  No, let me take that back.  I had
wanted
Jordan to be blowing up my phone, desperate to get in touch.  I had told him we'd talk but then I'd heard nothing.  His disturbing silence was all the proof I needed that our brief saliva swapping was a complete mistake.  One that would be much harder for me to come back from than him.

I was pretty sure Olivia had already forgiven Jordan of our little transgression.  They were probably back to being the most perfect couple ever.  And here I was, in my Scooby Doo pajamas looking like I had lost a round with Rocky Balboa.  If that wasn't karma, I didn't know what was.

Tucking my phone into the pocket of my jammie bottoms, I went to the bathroom, refusing to look at my reflection.  No need to depress myself.  There would be enough time for self-recrimination later.  Now, I just wanted a bowl of Cocoa Puffs and hours of Gossip Girl on the DVR. 

I parked myself on the couch with a mixing bowl full of my favorite chocolate cereal and I loaded up the first eight episodes of my running guilty pleasure.  And that's how Riley found me two hours later.  Well, at that point I had curled into a fetal position on the couch.  I was so miserable I was practically comatose.  And all I could think about was that I had fucked up everything in my life for a guy who didn't bother to call me again. 

Sure he had texted but if he really cared about me, wouldn't he have responded to my last message?  No, he had only been doing the decent thing.  I'm sure he and the tragically betrayed Olivia were all wrapped up in each other while he made up for allowing himself to be tempted by the evil skank in Chi Delta clothing.

I would not cry damn it!
  I was chanting this to myself over and over again to little avail when Riley breezed in, looking happy.  I felt like the shittiest best friend on the planet because I couldn't think about what it was that put that huge smile on her face.  My only thought was that I wanted her to comfort me. 

Once she got a good look at my tear stained face and the fact that it was almost noon and I was still in my pajamas, her smile faded.  “What the hell happened to you?” she asked in concern, coming over to the couch.  I tucked my knees up to my chest and gave a shuddery little sob.

“Mays.  What is it?” she asked, putting her hand on my leg.  I pulled up into a sitting position and looked at her, feeling the tears slip down my cheeks. 

“I fucked up, Riley.  Fucked up big time.”  And then I unloaded everything.  The whole horrible night. 

When I was done she looked at me in shock.  “Well, damn.  Maysie, that's some messed up shit,” she said matter-of-factly.  I couldn't help but laugh a little maniacally.  Because she had hit the nail right on the head, as always. 

“I can't believe I was so stupid!  I had told myself time and time again to leave it alone.  To stay the hell away from him!  And what do I do?  I jump in lips first!” I growled, throwing a pillow across the room in frustration. 

“Now, now.  No sense in destroying the decor.  First things first, you need to get a shower because I am not going to sit here and smell you a moment longer.  You reek of desperation and b.o.”  She tugged on my hand, pulling me to my feet.

I whined as she shoved me into the bathroom and turned the shower on.  “Now strip and wash the guilt off.  And then I can spend the rest of the day telling you how ridiculous you're being for allowing those ass hats to dictate your life like this.”  And with that she slammed the door. 

I didn't want to get a shower.  I wanted to marinate in my shame.  But even I could smell myself and I figured I'd take pity on the person who had to share a personal space with me.  While in the shower, Riley dropped a pile of clothes on the floor and scooped up my pajamas.

“Hey!  I want to wear those!” I yelled, peeking my head around the shower curtain. 

“No, these need to be disposed of as biological waste,” she responded, closing the door again.  After I got out, I put on the change of clothes Riley had provided and went out into the living room.  She had made us cups of tea and sat at on the couch, deleting my Gossip Girl episodes from the DVR.

“What the hell, Riley?  I was watching those!” I shrieked, diving for the remote.  She held it away from me.

“If you don't want your brain to rot out of your ears, then you don't need to watch anymore of this cultural strain on society.”  She flipped the TV off and turned to face me.  I crossed my arms over my chest and pouted.  Real mature, I know.  But at that point, I didn't care.

“So, tell me.  How long do you plan to hole up in our apartment, channeling Morrisey?  Because if you decide to morph into goth girl, I'm looking for a new roommate,” Riley warned, pointing her finger at me.  I rolled my eyes. 

“Dude, I'm allowed some time to hide out...Christ!  My life just went up in flames.  I have serious processing to do,” I huffed.  Riley snorted. 

“Processing?  No, what you need to do is get your ass out there and show those sheep that they can NOT scare you off!  You are way above this.  I've always thought you were better than those stupid Chi Smelltas or whatever the fuck they're called.”

“Chi Delta,” I corrected automatically.  It was Riley's turn to roll her eyes. 

“Whoever the hell they are, they suck.  And you suck for letting those girls, or Jordan for that matter, get to you.  I know what happened was horrible.  I know you feel like Elizabeth Taylor, but seriously, do you think for one flipping minute that Olivia is crystal clean?  The lot of them have more dirty laundry than a damn laundry mat.  Grow a spine, Maysie Ardin!”

Wow, she was ruthless.  And right then, I appreciated her tough love approach.  I needed to be reminded that I wasn't this horrible human being.  Because I felt up there with Gadhafi or at least Paris Hilton. 

But it wasn't just the fact that I had hurt Olivia.  I mean, I hated that.  I really did.  I wasn't a complete jerk.  But the truth was, my heart hurt.  I couldn't help but let my mind wander back to last night and watching Jordan lead Olivia away as she clung to him.  The fact was, seeing them together, I couldn't deny how they just
worked. 
They looked like they belonged together and I had no place in that pretty little picture.

Riley smacked the back of my head.  “And stop obsessing about Jordan Levitt.  If he can chase after you like that and then drop you on your ass once the going gets rough, then seriously, you're better off.”  Damn her and her all-knowing ways.  I picked up my mug of tea from the coffee table and took a drink. 

“Why the hell did you make me tea?  You know I'm a coffee drinker,” I complained, grimacing at the taste.

“Because tea is soothing,” Riley retorted primly.  I could use some soothing, that's for sure.  I put my cup back on the table.

“Okay, okay. I hear you and make note of your suggestions.  But have you ever heard that it's easier said than done?  Well, there you go.  It's easier said than done,” I spat out. 

Riley's face softened.  “I know, Mays.  I don't expect it to be easy.  You had your heart stomped on.  You had your pride slapped in the face like a little bitch.  You deserve to lick your wounds.  Just don't let it become an indefinite sabbatical.  I want you to come back swinging.  Go Muhommad Ali on this shit!” 

I laughed.  I couldn't help it.  Riley was good for that.  Our moment of levity was interrupted by the sound of Don't Fear the Reaper.  My phone vibrated around the coffee table and I grabbed it like a live grenade.  It was Gracie.

“Hey,” I said a little breathlessly after I answered it.  Riley gave me a look and then got up to give me some privacy. 

“Hey chica.  How are you today?' she asked sympathetically. 

“Well, I'm better than that time I had mono.  So I guess that's something, right?” I said lightly.  Gracie chuckled on the other end. 

“That's the spirit.” She said.  Then we fell silent. 

“Okay, Gracie.  Just give it to me straight.  How bad is it?” I asked in a rush, wanting to get to the point.  Gracie sighed and I could practically hear her wheels turning as she questioned how much she wanted to tell me. 

“Gracie.  Seriously.  I can't feel any worse.  So just tell me the truth, please,” I begged, knowing I was a complete liar.  Because I
could
feel worse.  A hell of a lot worse. 

Gracie sighed again.  “It's bad, Maysie.  Most of the girls are pissed.  Some of them are being extremely vocal in wanting you out.”  I closed my eyes.  I suspected this could be a possibility but some part of me hung onto the hope that “sisterhood” would be stronger than my current drama.  Guess not.