From the Jump(71)

I flinch at the jab. “I didn’t mean—”

“You can’t really think you two are some kind of couple,” she says, interrupting me. “He’s Lucas Deiss. You’ve witnessed firsthand how many women he’s been through. Never once has he referred to one of them as his girlfriend. How delusional are you?”

“Don’t talk to me like that.” My face is a perfect mask, my eyes dammed against the well of tears that have rushed to the surface. “I know you’re annoyed that I broke the pact, but that’s no excuse.”

“I didn’t . . .” Her breathing flares, and she presses the back of her hands to her eyes. Her tone softens. “It’s just not fair.”

And there it is.

My stomach sinks. I was hoping her pride would keep her from addressing it. After all, it’s not like she’s been holding out for Lucas Deiss all these years. She even got engaged once, although she dumped the poor sap when her eye was turned by a waiter in Paris. Still, it can’t feel good to discover Deiss’s interest could be piqued—just by me instead of her.

“You’re a beautiful, confident, smart, and funny woman,” I say. “Our roles could easily have been reversed.”

Her eyes swell before they narrow, turning dark with rage. “Are you seriously giving me some kind of pep talk? Do you think I’m jealous of you?”

If words could take physical form, hers would be poisoned steel arrows.

“No,” I say quickly. “Of course not.”

“I wasn’t saying that it wasn’t fair that I’m not with a man who has the staying power of a Popsicle in the Sahara. Obviously. I just meant that it’s not fair that the rest of us are going to have to pick up the pieces when this thing falls apart. Have you even thought about that, Olivia? Have you considered the rest of us even for a moment?”

I feel a flare of rage of my own. Or maybe it’s just panic. “Have you considered the fact that it might not fall apart?”

She snickers meanly. “The boy has his charms, but let’s face it, Deiss doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

“He does,” I insist. “He cares about his friends. He loves us.”

“If he loved you,” she says simply, “he never would’ve fucked you.”

Her words feel like a punch in the chest, but it’s the expression on her face that really guts me. It’s full of confidence, but also pity. For me and my naivete.

“You’re wrong.” My words come out weakly.

She shakes her head, so certain it makes me want to cry. “I’m not. And you know it. You’re better than this, Liv. Convincing yourself he’s someone he’s not. That’s the kind of stuff other girls do. Desperate, needy girls. Not girls like us.”

“I know exactly who Deiss is,” I say firmly. But devastation swirls in my belly. Simone has no idea how accurately she’s described my mother. “And so do you. If he’s so bad, why have you been friends with him for all these years?”

“He isn’t bad,” Simone says. “He just doesn’t care about anything.”

I shake my head, unable to argue.

“It’s not his fault,” Simone says with a sigh. “He can’t value anything because he’s never had to work for anything.”

“And you have?” I exhale the words, shaky and fierce. “Do you have any idea how stupid you sound right now? Your idea of a job is drinking champagne while snapping selfies. Deiss had an actual career before he could even walk. I’m pretty sure work isn’t a measurement you want to use to judge character.”

Simone goes still. For a moment, I’m scared my blow has landed too heavy, but there’s something about the sharpening of her eyes. She doesn’t look hurt. She looks like a snake, sizing up her prey before she strikes.

“A career for babies . . .” Her eyes spark with malevolence.

My stomach clenches at the realization of what I’ve just done. It could’ve just been a throwaway comment if Simone didn’t know him so well. If only Deiss had offered some lies instead of being so belligerently tight-lipped about his past, maybe Simone wouldn’t have leapt at this tiny scrap of detail.

“I didn’t mean an actual career,” I lie desperately.

“Of course you did.” Her eyes are hard. “So, what is it, Liv? What did Deiss do that was so private he could only tell you? It had to have been something where he felt exposed. Something public.”

She studies me.

“It was on the trip, right?” She nods at the way my back stiffens. “That’s when all the little inside jokes started.”

“Please just stop,” I plead. “This isn’t about Deiss. You’re worried about me, remember? How I’m being so desperate and naive and am going to break up the whole group when I get my heart broken?”

“He would’ve teased you with it.” She tilts her head like I haven’t spoken. “He likes it when he manages to knock you off balance. So, the question is, what has he said lately that’s strange? Something childish.”

“Simone,” I say, my voice going sharp. “That’s enough.”

But it’s too late. I see the dawn of realization as it lights up her eyes.

“Funnn-tastic,” she drawls, clearly pleased with herself.