Screwmates(48)

“How did—? Why didn’t anyone say anything?” I was so confused.

“We figured if you weren’t ready to discuss it, no big deal.” Lizzie shrugged. “You couldn’t keep it in forever. Although you did get close.”

“Now that we’re allowed to talk about it, can we cheers? You are kicking ass and taking names, my friend. How many people are following that thing? Like six thousand?” Ava asked.

“Ten,” I muttered. I didn’t care anymore. And I was not cheersing, either. I couldn’t celebrate the reason I’d driven Marc off.

“Holy crap! I bet you get an agent out of this,” Scarlet said. “Maybe I will have another, after all. Lizzie?”

“I’m not your mom.” But she got up anyways.

“I did get an offer from one,” I admitted. The shrieks were deafening.

“You have an agent! You have an agent!”

“Will you remember us when you’re rich and famous?”

“Wanna be roomies again in your mansion?”

“Guys. I’m not accepting.” That shut them up, but only for a second.

“But… why?” Because I’d exploited Marc enough already was why. Because the very thought of Screwmates made me sick to my stomach right about now. Because I didn’t even know if I could draw at all anymore. Maybe I was just broken.

“Because I never told Marc about the comic, okay? He found it on his own. And now he’s staying with his mom before banging his way across a foreign country and he hates me and I hate myself and I can’t exactly accept an agent’s offer of representing the series I’ll be deleting as soon as you people leave.” Which hopefully wouldn’t be until I’d had a few more drinks, because as much as I wanted Screwmates gone, it would really, really hurt to say goodbye.

Once the comic was gone, so was the only evidence of my torrid roommate affair.

Lizzie excused herself to go to the bathroom, and I told her to bring me back some tissues.

“Oh my gosh, let it out,” Scarlet said.

“I’m not crying!” I was definitely crying. And the more I tried to hold it back, the harder I cried. The girls were exchanging looks again and I didn’t want concern, I wanted shots. However, it was a bit difficult to understand me through the tears and the snot, so I just got up and collected glasses and the salted caramel flavor. Because it really did look delicious.

“Oh, we’re onto this, then? Let me text my sitter.” Lizzie had emerged, with the tissues, and just in time. I knocked one back and immediately refilled.

“You guys did not tell me how much this sucks. I blame you entirely.”

“Because Little Madison finally fell in love? I’m not taking the blame on this one, sister.” Lizzie took her shot.

“Plus are you serious about not knowing how much heartbreak sucks? That’s literally the only thing songs and books and shit are about.” Ava perched on the edge of the table and made a face at her shot glass. “I wanted Birthday Cake.”

“Drink that and pour what you want,” Lizzie said. “I’ll take a Cake too, actually.”

“You’re closer,” Ava said.

“Oh my God, I’m not your mom either.” But she got up.

“Back to me, please,” I said.

“Oh, yeah. Well, you’ll go through all the steps of grieving and then emerge on the other end a stronger woman,” Scarlet told me. “Wanna play Truth or Dare?”

“I’m not done being coddled, I think.” Although Drunk Scarlet was a blast, because she would do any dare. Which, come to think of it, could explain her reluctance to drink very often. We’d probably never let her live down the time she streaked our high school principal’s yard. But then that reminded me of the time Maddy and Markus got naked in the neighbor’s yard and I teared up again.

I would miss those little cartoon perverts almost as much as I would miss my own screwmate.

“I’m just going to go back to bed now, I think. Feel free to get tanked in the living room without me,” I said, standing up.

“Sit down,” Lizzie growled.

“Shut up,” said Ava.

“Have another!” said Scarlet, uncapping the Orange Dreamsicle flavor next.

“What are you going to do, Madison?” Lizzie asked. She liked plans. And lists.

“Well, I was planning to go back to bed, but you guys stopped me, so.” I thought it was obvious.

“No. What are you going to do? Are you going to accept this? Or are you going to fight?”

“What is there to fight?” I asked. “I screwed up. Royally. Unless someone’s hiding a TARDIS?” Unfortunately, I was the likeliest subject in the room to have a time-traveling police box, so I was forced to check that option off the list.

“So you screwed up. It happens. He’ll calm down, and then you need to be prepared.” Ava was raiding the refrigerator. A good decision, considering the rate at which we were knocking back the vodka. I hoped Marc hadn’t taken the good snacks with him.

“Prepared for what? It isn’t like I can just casually cruise by his mom’s every day until he’s receptive. Plus, even when he’s calm, I doubt he’ll want to talk to me.” No, there was nothing to it. It was over. He was done with me, and I was just done. It was back to lonely nights at SplatScreen and lonelier days trolling Craigslist for a new roommate.