Page 22 of Bitter Truths

Whitney turns her back to mix drinks on her dresser. “Premium vodka, fresh lime, and pomegranate. You’ll love it.”

She hands me one of the crystal glasses. The liquid glows ruby red in the dim light.

“To us,” she toasts, her perfect smile wide. “To the future.”

A future that just got a lot bleaker. I clink my glass against hers and take a sip. Sweet tartness explodes on my tongue, masking the bite of alcohol.

“Good, right?” she beams.

I drain the glass, eager to escape back downstairs. The vodka burns a warm trail all the way down.

We return to the party, now loud and pulsing. The dance floor is packed, and everyone’s shouting over the music. Groups of classmates sprawl across lounge chairs, sneaking drinks despite security.

“I’m going to make sure the party’s running smoothly,” Whitney says, already drifting away. “Have fun!”

I weave through the revelers toward the pool area. The music fades to a dull thump as I reach the quieter section of the yard. The Olympic-sized pool glows royal blue, the surface rippling.

There they are, sitting by the pool, with the underwater lights making them glow blue.

Waiting for me to break their hearts. Or maybe for them to break mine. Hard to tell which way this will go.

“She returns,” Tristan drawls.

“Sorry about that.”

“So,” Owen leans forward, elbows propped on his knees, “what did you want to talk about?”

My throat goes tight. I’ve waited forever to say this, and now I can’t get the words out.

“Tomorrow,” I begin, “I leave for three weeks.”

Coward. But I need to ease into this somehow.

“Don’t remind us,” Freddie sighs.

“You better keep in touch.” Tristan shoots me a pointed look. “You don’t want us to have to come looking for you in the woods.”

I smile despite my nerves. “I’ll try, but cell service will be spotty. My mom already warned me. That’s part of why I wanted to talk tonight.”

Before I chicken out and spend the next three weeks in the mountains, pretending this conversation never needs to happen.

Weller studies me with that look that sees so much. “Go on.”

I take a deep breath. Dr. Montgomery’s words echo. But looking at them now, seeing the way Owen’s eyes soften when he looks at me, the way Freddie leans forward like my words are precious, the way Tristan’s usual mockery fades into genuine attention, and the way Weller’s protective stance makes me feel safe...

Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe what we have transcends my shortcomings.

Who am I kidding? Of course, it matters.

Owen’s expression sharpens. “What is it, Bianca?”

My courage falters. Why is this so fucking hard to say? Because once they know the truth, there’s no going back to the easy friendship we used to have.

The words sit heavy on my tongue, years of waiting making them almost impossible to voice.

“So, I know this might sound crazy, but I think we’re...”

“Bianca!” Whitney reappears, holding a drink tray. “I brought reinforcements.”