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“It means you’ve always been into dickheads. At least Tommy’s the hottest one around and comes with a hot best friend.”
“I have not always been into dickheads.”
“Yeah, you have. And you’ve fucked more of them than anyone I know. So don’t get all high and mighty about yourself.”
That’s it. I’m done. “You know what, Marissa? You just proved how bad a friend you are and I’m done with you.”
“Ah no, bitch, I’m not the bad friend in this friendship. That would be you. You don’t show up to my parties half the time anymore, you treat me like shit when you do show up, and you ruined my chance with Puck. Because you don’t wanna hang out with Tommy anymore, he’s stopped coming around, which means Puck has stopped coming around. You’re so damn selfish.”
Standing on the outside of our friendship looking in, I see the shallowness of her world, a world I’ve been a part of for years. It’s like staring in a mirror, though, because the things she just mentioned are things I used to focus on, too. Somewhere along the way, those things stopped being important to me.
The thing that hurts the most is the fact she doesn’t even know me. “No, you’re a bad friend, Marissa. You go around telling people I’m a slut. I know you do, because you actually think I am. The fact I’m not, and you have no idea I’m not, makes me finally admit to myself that you don’t even care enough about me to know that. You don’t care enough to make it a point to know anything of real value about me.”
“Babe,” she says, her voice filled with venom, “you are a slut. Stop trying to tell yourself you’re not. And fuck you. I make the decision when a friendship ends. Everyone knows that.”
I don’t bother to correct her again or tell her I’ve slept with exactly three guys in my life. Two were boyfriends. One was a one-night stand. None of that makes me a slut. And besides, I don’t even believe in judging a girl in that way.
“Goodbye, Marissa,” I say before removing the phone from my ear and ending the call.
I place the phone down and stare at it feeling some weird emotions. Relieved to have ended the friendship, but kinda sad about it, too. I also feel a little sick in my tummy over this, which is strange because I know this might be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
I’m lost in thought when Fury’s deep voice drags me back to reality. I blink and bring him into focus. “Sorry,” I say, “I missed what you said.”
His brows pull together. “You okay?”
“Yes.”
He steps closer. “You don’t look okay, Zara.”
I don’t want to tell him what’s wrong, but there’s something in the way he’s looking at me with genuine concern that makes me open up. “I think I just ended my friendship with my best friend.”
“You think? Or you know?”
The room is silent while I stare at him, but there’s a whole lot of noise going on inside my head. Did I really just tell Marissa we’re done? Am I okay with that? Does that mean I have no friends now? Because Marissa will surely do her best to make sure no one we went to school with will want anything to do with me. And why is Fury standing in front of me looking at me like he cares about me?
“I know.” My voice breaks and I try to swallow my emotions.
He’s quiet for a moment. “I’m taking it if you were the one to end it, she was a shit friend.”
I nod, swallowing hard again. Willing my emotions to behave while Fury is in front of me. “Yeah, she was.”
Again, he takes his time before saying, “Well, in my experience, friends are overrated. It sounds like you’re better off without her.”
“I probably will be.”
“Has that guy been back?”
His question throws me, and because I’m so focused on Marissa, I stumble over who he’s referring to. “Which guy?”
“Tommy.”
“Oh.” I shake my head. “No. I haven’t seen him since the day he came here.”
“Good. He’s a dickhead.”
Butterflies camp out in my tummy at the interest he’s showing in my well-being.
I like him taking that interest.
