makeup and the lazy, bitter smirk on her face. I can smell the liquor on her from over here. “Guess I decided to see what all the fuss is about.”
Her lean against the tower is slumped and awkward, and I don’t really like the way this all looks. Some drunk girl propped against the entrance to the Stairway to Hell doesn’t give me the most fun and consensual vibes.
“Are you… waiting for someone?” I reluctantly ask.
She looks at the door, and then up, as if someone might be up there. She gives the stonework a little pat. “Nope. Just little old me.” Her smile is overly bright, sloppy. “Getting stood up, as one does.”
I pull a face, craning my neck to look toward the gym. “Uh, sorry to hear that.” I can see now her makeup isn’t smudged, so much as running tracks down her cheeks. This girl is a complete mess.
I nod my chin, gesturing to where her foot is at an odd angle. “Something wrong?”
Her eyes follow mine, and she must be pretty wasted, because she almost looks surprised. “I twisted my ankle on the grass.” She extends her leg, giving me a view of her long legs and the sharp, pointed heel of her shoes. “That’s what I get for trying to look fabulous for guys who don’t show up.”
I glance down at my phone. The clock is literally ticking. I need to get into that gym. “Do you need me to call someone, or…”
She sniffs. “Maybe a little help getting to the gym? Once I’m there, I can take my shoes off.”
I’m not exactly sure why she can’t walk across campus barefoot, but the last things I understand are the fine intricacies of drunk girl logic. I run my hand through my hair and glance around like someone else will magically appear to help. They don’t.
“Sure.” With a heavy sigh, I walk over. “What do you need me to do?”
“Um… how about you wrap your arm around my waist. I can hobble over that way.” She looks behind me and then bats her eyes. “Unless you want to carry me.”
I look shiftily into the distance. “The waist is fine.”
I do as she asks, sliding my arm around her waist to stabilize her. She leans into me, pressing her cheek, and well, her rack, into my side. Over the stench of alcohol, a waft of oily perfume passes over me, stinging my eyes. Damn.
We start across the campus, me bearing most of her weight. “This makes twice you’ve helped me out,” she says. “It’s like you’re my guardian angel.”
I stare forward and try not to snort. More of a Devil, really. “Don’t sweat it.”
We’re in the middle of the parking lot when she stops and turns to face me, body still pressed close to mine. “I know everyone thinks you’re a bad guy for what you did to Vandy, but I know better now. You’re nice, Reynolds McAllister. I see who you really are under the surface.”
Her fingers are wrapped in my jacket and I try to unhook them. She doesn’t budge.
I grimace at the people in the distance. “Uh, thanks, I guess.”
She tightens her grip on my lapels, rambling, “You should have come with me, you know. I can show a guy a good time, just ask some of your shiny new buddies. All of you are just best friends now, aren’t you? Afton and Bass and Emory. And oh,” she gives a low, scathing laugh, “Vandy, of course. Because she’s the bees' knees now. Everyone just loves Vandy all of a sudden. Vandy, Vandy, Vandy. Isn’t she so pretty and prim and wobbly!”
I narrow my eyes at the contempt dripping from her voice. “Sydney, you’re drunk.”
“Yeah, I may be drunk, but I’m not a fucking addict like your precious Baby V.” She laughs, dark and mean. “You think all her new friends will like her once they find that out? When they hear she’s been gobbling up painkillers like candy for the last three years?”
I look down at the pathetic girl clinging to me. I knew she wasn’t a good friend to Vandy, but telling me that? It was intended to hurt her and me. “You want to know why everyone loves Vandy? Because despite having a better reason than most people, she’s not a bitter bitch.”
Her mouth falls slack in affront, but I don’t regret saying it. Her eyes jump over my shoulder, and then her jaw sets. In a show of quick dexterity