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Of course,I think.This is what I deserve.
I did all this to myself. Looking back, I can’t even blame anyone. I’d hopped on the revenge train and successfully convinced Hayley and Ivy that printing smear campaigns against the Stawarskis was a good thing.
And it wasa good thing. That is, until I was stupid enough to let Brandon Stawarski in.
My cheeks flame as I recall the embarrassing episode. It has been a few weeks, but I still feel like a worm every time I let myself dwell on it. Disposable and useless.
I’d thought for sure that I would neverlet Brandon humiliate me again. That, since I held the pen and the power, he was at my mercy.
But he managed to turn it around, mostly because I allowedhim. He had the audacity to try tocommandme to stop posting articles while framing it as fetishistic bedroom play.
Combing through what happened has made me feel varying emotions over the past few weeks, ranging from anger to bitterness to downright rage. But today, as I reconsider what happened to me, another emotion springs up.
Hurt.
Sudden, hot tears spring to my eyes. I let out a gasp, both surprised and overwhelmed.
What the hell is happening to me?
“Erm, Gigi?” Danielle interrupts my racing thoughts.
I seize a tissue to wipe my eyes dry and turn around. “What?”
“Hayley seems to be angry…at you.”
I look up. Hayley is leaning against the door of her office, her eyes trained on me.
“I’ll be done with the article soon,” I tell her, half-standing up, wishing she’d just leave me for a while to collect my thoughts.
I’ve never, evercried over a guy before. And even though it bothers me that Brandon and I are no longer on speaking terms, there is nothingto cry about. He is an arrogant jerk who tried to manipulate me into not doing my work.
And yet, more tears spring to my eyes when I think of him.
This is one of the oddest things that has ever happened to me.
“I hope soonmeans thirty minutes,” Hayley says. “Send it to my email before you upload it. I need to make sure you’re hitting the nail on the head.”
She turns around, walks into her office, and slams the door before I can get another word in.
Great,I think, sitting down again. I’d always wished Hayley stood up for herself more, but I would have never imagined that she would be this decisive about the Stawarskis.
I glance at the unfinished article and feel yet another bout of tears.
Frustrated, I wipe them hurriedly.
What iswrong with me? Why the hell am I even crying? The past few days have been overwhelming, sure, and I’d been more tired than usual. Still, tears springing to my eyes does notmake sense.
I rush through the rest of the article, trying my best to sound as upbeat as I can through my words. Ten minutes later, I scroll through the 800-word write-up. It’s not my best work, but it isabout the Stawarskis. I send it to Hayley just as Danielle pops her head into my cubicle again.
“You got any pads?” she asks. “Aunt Flo is here, and she did notcome to play.”
“I don’t use pads,” I remind her for what seems to be the millionth time. “I have a spare tampon, but my period is…”
I pause, suddenly feeling a tiny bit of relief.That’s it.My period should have arrived a week ago, and it hadn’t. No doubt I am experiencing a bit of PMS. Of course, I’ve nevercried because of PMS, but a lot of women experience different things. I’ve also never felt the kind of upheaval I experienced this month during any of my other periods.
“Gigi!”
I sigh, feeling another pulse of pain from my headache. Hayley is screaming for me through the closed door of her office.
