Page 103 of Trailer Trash

Me: R u spying on me???

Asher: Not me.

What does that mean? Fucker still has my phone cloned. Whatever.

Me: She wants me to pay for their wedding

Me: She says I’ll never have one.

Asher: what about the girl with the fake orgasms?

I laugh.

Me: I think they were real. We hooked up again.

Asher: date her

My stomach drops. That’s more jarring than Nina’s blackmail. It’s like Asher doesn’t give a fuck about me at all. He completely moved on.

Me: What about us? We had plans.

Asher: (typing bubble)

Then Asher stops texting completely. He goes silent. He always does when I bring up plans for the future.

I sit back in the seat and stare at my new baggie of coke.

River is crazy about Nina.

I’m like Nina.

Harlow’s crazy about me, and I’m not treating her right. Harlow wants more. I want Harlow. Maybe I could make plans with her.

I cringe so hard it steals my breath. Anxiety presses down on my chest. I need to calm this feeling.

Quickly, I check the tracker. Just seeing Harlow’s car on the map brings relief. She’s left campus and stopped at a shopping center. Huh. She usually goes straight home. What’s she doing there? Who is she with?

I put the car in drive. I need to see her anyway. I want to make sure she’s calmed down. I need the grime of Nina off me.

I need my lowly CNA.

28

Harlow

“I don’t think I heard right. He fucked a fleshlight on top of you?” Keysha says.

I laugh bashfully, my face burning hot.

“Yes. It was hot, though.”

It’s not a typical conversation for a public place as we sift through a clothes rack, hunting for work scrubs. I don’t know the girl Keysha towed along, either, but I had to share. Charlotte seems sweet, anyway. Her eyes are bright, and her frizzy blonde hair is tied up in two buns on either side of her head. She’s soft, curvy, like me, but more on top.

“It was good, too,” I whine. Tears prick at the corner of my eyes. “I am so in love with Killian. I shouldn’t have told him. I can’t believe he reacted like I was a crazy stalker. It was mortifying. I cannot see him again.”

“Time to get your old job back,” she says, as if that fixes everything.

“I already texted my old supervisor. She said she has hours for me. I just have to tell Clark I’m quitting.”