I ran out of her room and into mine. I slammed the door behind me and crawled into my bed, where I tried to muffle my cries with my pillows. Our walls were so thin she could probably hear me, and my mom hated when I cried. She said it was unbecoming.
My hiccupping sobs filled the room.
She was right to be mad. She had a big date with the richest man in town, who could take care of all our money troubles if they got married like she wanted.
What if I ruined it by messing up her hair? What if he broke up with her and she hated me forever for it?
My mom and I used to be best friends, but I couldn’t do anything right these days, and she kept getting mad at me.
After I ran out of tears to cry, I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and took a deep, shuddering breath.
It’s okay. It’ll be okay.
Next time, I’ll do her hair right. Then my mom will love me again. I was sure of it.
I blinked back the burn in my eyes at the memory.
My phone buzzed against my thigh as we pulled up to the hotel. My stomach cramped when a candid photo of me arriving in Athenberg popped up. Some dipshit at the airport must’ve taken it.
Max: Saw this on a gossip blog. Looking good, J.
Max: But we both know you’ve always looked good on camera
I hated these “casual” texts more than I hated Max’s overtly threatening ones. They were a constant reminder of his presence in my life. Every time I relaxed an inch, another one popped up, setting me on edge again.
Of course, that was his intention. Max wanted to torture me with the uncertainty, and he was fucking succeeding.
I wiped my clammy palms against the sides of my thighs as I exited the car and entered the hotel. Alex, Josh, Ava, Stella, and I rode the elevator up to our floor in silence, and my friends had already disappeared into their rooms when Josh’s voice stopped me in my tracks.
“I want to talk to you for a second.”
I stiffened, my stomach cramping again for an entirely different reason. The last thing I needed was to get yelled at by Josh, of all people.
Still, I stepped into his suite without protest, and the door shut behind us with a soft click.
We were taking a huge risk, considering our close call with Ava earlier that day, but that was the least of my worries right now.
Josh didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to. His silent judgment pricked at me, familiar and stinging.
I could guess what he was thinking.
That it was my fault. That I was a bad influence. That I’d dragged Ava into trouble yet again.
It was always my fault.
“Just say it.” I stared at the dark flat-screen TV hanging on the wall, taking in my messy hair and tired face. This night turned out to be a total nightmare. My only consolation was that Bridget left before shit went downhill so she didn’t have the added stress before her wedding.
My chin wobbled when Josh closed in enough for his body heat to envelop me.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly. He cupped the back of my neck and rubbed small circles with his thumb.
Pressure ballooned in my chest at his touch. “Yep.”
“Jules, look at me.”
I pressed my lips together and shook my head, afraid doing so would destroy the flimsy dam holding my tears back.
“Jules.” Josh stepped in front of me and grasped my chin between his thumb and forefinger. He tilted it up, forcing me to meet his eyes. Visible concern eroded his granite mask. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m tired and I want to sleep, so just yell at me like you always do and get it over with.”
Surprise coasted through his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
I rubbed my arms, wishing I’d worn something more substantial than my green silk minidress. “Tonight. Ava got arrested because of me, I’m a bad influence, etc. I’m familiar with the script by now. You’ve never thought I was good enough.”
A muscle ticked along the line of his strong jaw. “I never said that.”
“But you were thinking it.”
Josh dropped his hand and rubbed it over his face. “I’ll admit, when I received Ava’s call, I was pissed that you guys had gotten into trouble again, but more than that, I was worried. Not only about her…” His voice dropped. “But also about you.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you care?”
Silence hummed in the space between us, so taut it threatened to snap at any second.
Josh’s Adam’s apple bobbed with the force of his swallow, but he didn’t reply.
My heart twisted. Right. That was what I thought.
“You don’t have to pretend to care just because we’re having sex.”
Fake concern was a thousand times worse than no concern at all, because fake concern gave way to false hope, and false hope destroyed souls. It was one of the biggest lessons I’d learned in my early years. All the times I thought someone cared about me when they only wanted something from me, and when they got it, they tossed me aside without a second thought. Until, of course, they needed something again.