Bad Rep (Bad Rep, #1)(52)

My phone chirped from my bedside table.  I wanted to ignore it, but instead I leaned over and grabbed it, turning the screen on.  A text from Jordan waited for me.  I didn't even have the energy to wonder how he got my number.

Are you alright?  Please let me know you got home safely!  I'm so sorry about all of this.  We need to talk. ~Jordan

I debated whether I should respond.  But finally, I caved.

I'm fine.  Talk soon.

Then I deleted his message and turned my phone off.  Because right now, I was done with talking.
Chapter Thirteen


It was day one of “Maysie goes into hiding.”  It felt like being in a leper colony.  Or having some sort of serious social phobia.  But I had to stay in my safe little bubble.  Off the grid.  Until everything blew over.  Or the world ended in a fiery apocalypse.  Whichever came first.

I woke up Sunday morning, my body aching and sore from my brief stint as a WWE wrestler.  I debated whether I should turn on my phone.  Then even more strongly debated whether I should just chuck it out the window.  But I wanted to make sure I answered it if Gracie called.  She was my lifeline to the outside world at the moment.

So I powered up my phone and chewed my thumb nail while I waited to see what would greet me.  And I was both relieved and depressed to see that there were no missed texts.   No new voice mails.  Nothing.  It was like I had fallen off the face of the Earth.

I had really thought that Jordan would try and contact me again.  No, let me take that back.  I had wanted Jordan to be blowing up my phone, desperate to get in touch.  I had told him we'd talk but then I'd heard nothing.  His disturbing silence was all the proof I needed that our brief saliva swapping was a complete mistake.  One that would be much harder for me to come back from than him.

I was pretty sure Olivia had already forgiven Jordan of our little transgression.  They were probably back to being the most perfect couple ever.  And here I was, in my Scooby Doo pajamas looking like I had lost a round with Rocky Balboa.  If that wasn't karma, I didn't know what was.

Tucking my phone into the pocket of my jammie bottoms, I went to the bathroom, refusing to look at my reflection.  No need to depress myself.  There would be enough time for self-recrimination later.  Now, I just wanted a bowl of Cocoa Puffs and hours of Gossip Girl on the DVR.

I parked myself on the couch with a mixing bowl full of my favorite chocolate cereal and I loaded up the first eight episodes of my running guilty pleasure.  And that's how Riley found me two hours later.  Well, at that point I had curled into a fetal position on the couch.  I was so miserable I was practically comatose.  And all I could think about was that I had f*cked up everything in my life for a guy who didn't bother to call me again.

Sure he had texted but if he really cared about me, wouldn't he have responded to my last message?  No, he had only been doing the decent thing.  I'm sure he and the tragically betrayed Olivia were all wrapped up in each other while he made up for allowing himself to be tempted by the evil skank in Chi Delta clothing.

I would not cry damn it!  I was chanting this to myself over and over again to little avail when Riley breezed in, looking happy.  I felt like the shittiest best friend on the planet because I couldn't think about what it was that put that huge smile on her face.  My only thought was that I wanted her to comfort me.

Once she got a good look at my tear stained face and the fact that it was almost noon and I was still in my pajamas, her smile faded.  “What the hell happened to you?” she asked in concern, coming over to the couch.  I tucked my knees up to my chest and gave a shuddery little sob.

“Mays.  What is it?” she asked, putting her hand on my leg.  I pulled up into a sitting position and looked at her, feeling the tears slip down my cheeks.

“I f*cked up, Riley.  Fucked up big time.”  And then I unloaded everything.  The whole horrible night.

When I was done she looked at me in shock.  “Well, damn.  Maysie, that's some messed up shit,” she said matter-of-factly.  I couldn't help but laugh a little maniacally.  Because she had hit the nail right on the head, as always.

“I can't believe I was so stupid!  I had told myself time and time again to leave it alone.  To stay the hell away from him!  And what do I do?  I jump in lips first!” I growled, throwing a pillow across the room in frustration.

“Now, now.  No sense in destroying the decor.  First things first, you need to get a shower because I am not going to sit here and smell you a moment longer.  You reek of desperation and b.o.”  She tugged on my hand, pulling me to my feet.

I whined as she shoved me into the bathroom and turned the shower on.  “Now strip and wash the guilt off.  And then I can spend the rest of the day telling you how ridiculous you're being for allowing those ass hats to dictate your life like this.”  And with that she slammed the door.

I didn't want to get a shower.  I wanted to marinate in my shame.  But even I could smell myself and I figured I'd take pity on the person who had to share a personal space with me.  While in the shower, Riley dropped a pile of clothes on the floor and scooped up my pajamas.

“Hey!  I want to wear those!” I yelled, peeking my head around the shower curtain.