My stomach has been in knots all afternoon.

When I step inside my room, I haven't drawn breath for almost thirty seconds.

"Thank God you're here," Constance bursts the moment her dark eyes land on mine. She leaps from her bed. "I need your help."

I still can't relax. I edge towards my bed and place myself and my bags onto it.

"What with?"

"What to buy Harlow for his birthday!" she exclaims.

"God, Constance," I snap at her in irritation. "You scared the shit out of me. I've felt sick all afternoon."

"About what?"

"I thought you were mad at me."

"Why would I be mad at you?" she asks with her back to me as she lays out t-shirts across her bed.

"Because I'm a terrible friend."

"No, you're not."

I exhale, looking down at my feet. "I am."

"So, I bought these two shirts," she explains, gesturing to a navy and an acid-wash grey shirt, ignoring my comment. "They're half of it."

"Constance—"

"That's when you come in. I need some ideas."

"You need to break up with Harlow," I blurt.

She freezes. Slowly, she pivots, facing me, a dark look clouding her features. Silently, she folds her arms across her chest.

"Why do you say that?" she asks in a calm voice that's too calm to actually be calm. "Did something..." her words get caught, and she tries again. "Did something happen between you two?"

"What?" I ask and probably should have toned down how horrified I am at the thought of that. "Absolutely not." I stare directly into her eyes. "Constance, I would never do you that to you."

Her shoulders sag a little and she nods, looking relieved. "Okay. Why?"

"You deserve someone a lot better."

"What happened?"

A headache pulsed behind my eyes. I close my eyes for a second too long and force them open.

"Cora."

She sinks onto her bed, rigid. "Of course."

"Of course what?"

"Of course it was her. Every guy is drooling over her," she spits. Her fuzzy hair is loose today, springing from her head in all directions. She rakes her hands through it, slicking it down for a moment before it darts back up.

Her head falls into her hands. "This has happened before."

I nod, although she isn't looking. "I'm sorry, Constance."

"Fuck."

I feel like I should offer her comfort, a hug—anything—but I don't know how. I glare down at my feet, chewing my lip.

She gets to her feet and leaves the room, slamming the door shut behind her. I lay back and stare at the ceiling.

I thought I would feel better once she knew, but I really don't.

***

Constance returned after an hour and cried for a while. Uncomfortable to witness, whole body sobs.

"Want to get pizza?" she asks, standing and wiping her face as if nothing happened a little later.

I zone back into the room, having fallen back into the repeats of the weekend.

"Sure, I could eat."

"First slice is on me," she jokes, considering all food here is complimentary unless we buy food or bottled water from the vending machines.

I don't want to think about Harlow. Or Cora. Or Harlow with Cora. Or how that affects Constance. Or me. It makes my head hurt.

"How was your weekend?" I ask in an attempt to steer the conversation into something a little more positive.

"I took my sisters to the water slides. They loved it."

"That sounds fun."

"How was yours?" she asks, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket, her shoes scuffing the floor as she drags them.

I swallow. I want to tell her about Wren, but it isn't the best time.

"It was fine."

She side-eyes me. Her eyes swollen and ringed red. She doesn't push it.

There are few people milling around the cafeteria when we enter. A lot quieter than usual, as a lot of people come back later tonight if they have left for the weekend.

We split a pizza and find a seat. We chew quietly, not able to look at each other. My eyes wander around the room, and I find myself wishing I'd stayed in my room.

"Finally, you're back!" A voice says cheerily, sliding into the seat beside me, her bare leg touching mine. "It was so dull around here."

Constance looks like I've stuck a pin in her foot. Her eyes narrow into slits and she sits straight and frozen, her eyes focused on Cora. Cora is looking at me. Her scent washes over me and her leg presses harder into mine.

"How are you? How was your weekend? I thought you didn't leave on weekends?" she asks, the words tumbling from her mouth rapidly. "Can I have a bit?" she doesn't wait for my reply as she leans over, her breast pressing into my shoulder as she scoops up one slice of pizza.

I'm looking at Constance.

And then she snaps.

Constance darts to her feet leans over and slaps the pizza towards Cora. She slams her palms into the back of it and the pizza drags across her face.

Cora gasps in shock and almost topples over backward, before catching herself.

"Ugly, fake, bitch," Constance snarls. She steps out from around the table. She goes to leave but quickly grabs the pizza box before she does.

"Jesus Christ," Cora yelps, dropping the pizza and wiping her face. "Guess she found out, then."

"Come on," I say to her, helping her get to her feet.

No one seemed to notice the disturbance. It all happened fast. And rather quietly.

We receive some odd looks as I lead Cora to the bathroom. She splashes the water on her face.

"Girls always hate me," she groans.

"Well. Don't make out with their boyfriends."

She swivels her eyes to me. "Have you?"

"What?"

"Made out with Wren yet?" she asks, before returning her attention back to the mirror.

"Yes."

"Really?" she smirks.

She dries her face and turns, leaning into the basin, folding her arms over her chest.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"What kind of question is that?" I frown at her, shifting my weight from one foot to the other as I mirror her stance.

"Did you?" she presses.

"Yes."

"How much?"

"A lot."

Our eye contact is intense and I suddenly feel flustered. I pull my gaze to the ground and yank my shirt from my skin, confused at the sudden hot flash. I turn to leave, when Cora's hand finds mine, tugging me to her. She pulls me so that I'm standing between her knees.

"Tell me about you."

"What do you want to know?" I ask.

"Everything."

"Trust me, you don't want to know everything."

I backpedal out of the position I'm in. My back hits the tiled wall. Cora's smirk widens.

"Could you do me a favour?"

"What?"

"Grab me my towel from my room?" she asks, yanking her shirt over her head. "I need to wash this pizza off of me."

I scuttle from the bathroom and do as Cora asks. When I return, I fling it over the wall. Cora pulls back the curtain and I step back. My eyes slide to her body, before quickly darting back to her face.

"Thanks," she grins and when I force myself to meet her eyes, she winks at me.

***

I'm late to lunch the next day and when I reach the table, my lunch slips from my hand and hits the ground.

Constance is perched beside Harlow as he nuzzles his head into the base of her neck. She giggles at him and I blink a few times, before slowly retrieving my lunch—which thankfully was secured in a paper bag.

Harlow turns to me and smiles. Constance won't meet my eyes. I give them both a cold look before sitting down. If they want to pretend nothing ever happened, then fine, but that's the last time I am getting involved. Wren glances at the two of them, before looking at me, his adorable grin appearing.

"Hey."

"Hey," I greet him. "How's your morning been?"

"Long. Boring. Better now."

I smile at his words. "Are you going home this weekend?"

"I thought I might stay here if the offer still stands?" he questions. His dark hair splays across his forehead, contrasting his lightly tanned skin.

My smile widens, and I nod eagerly. "Sure does."

Voices rising tears my attention from Wren's gorgeous blue eyes. Tom, aka sandy-hair, and a boy who I've seen hanging around the group, seem to be in a disagreement. The tall boys' hand snakes out and slaps the drink Tom is holding. The liquid splashes across Tom's face and pools on the floor. Tom growls and lunges at him, driving him into the ground.

Curses leave their mouths as they roll around the floor, swinging and grunting. Wren doesn't look fazed—turning back to his food—whereas I keep my eyes glued on the action as they maneuver closer to us.

The air leaves my lungs as the table is jostled, sending food and drinks cluttering to the floor in a mess. Wren's head snaps to commotion once more, his jaw clenched. It happens fast. I'm scrambling to my feet, the next, the tall boy is shoved into me. I'm falling in a tangle of hair and limps. My head bounces from the hard ground and pain radiates through my skull.

Wren is up. His fist is in Tom's face. There's blood. A lot of blood. People are yelling. Chairs scraping the floor. Groans. Shouts. The alarm is blaring.

My head pounds as I sit up, nursing my face. Constance is at my side, her mouth moving, but her words don't register.

Guards escort Tom, the tall boy, and a reluctant Wren from the room. He sends a concerned look over his shoulder at me.

"It's all good, Wren. I've got her!" Cora announces, materialising out of nowhere, rushing to my side.

Wren's face darkens at her arrival and I don't miss the withering gaze directed at her back. She pushes Constance out of the way—who yelps her disapproval—and places her cold hands on my cheeks.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"Whore," I hear Constance mutter.

"I'm okay. I'm fine."

I am not okay, nor am I fine.

My head pulses as I get to my feet unsteadily. I try my best not to stagger but fail. Cora guides me to the seat and when Constance moves to sit beside me, Cora quickly gets in first, once again shoving her out of the way.

"Maybe we should take you to the infirmary."

"No!" I practically shout, and my head flares. "I'm literally there every week. I'm fine."

My hands are trembling so I place them under the table, out of the sight. Cora pushes a cold bottle of water towards me. The humid room makes the bottle wet with condensation in moments.

My mind desperately is trying to transport to The Dark Place, but I try Hayley's method, which I seem to need every moment of every day. In–one, two, three, out–one, two, three. My hands finally relax, but I feel the indents from my nails on my skin. There's a slight sting, but I'm used to it.

Much to my arguing, I'm escorted to the damn infirmary. It's a good excuse to skip the rest of the school day though and I retire to my room, lounging across my bed. I let my legs dangle off the edge and try not to worry about Wren getting himself into trouble. Despite everything, the fact that he defended me warms my heart.

The veiny arms. The angry look in his icy eyes. It should not make me like him even more. But it does. And I can't stop replaying the scene in my mind.

The door of my room opens and Cora appears. A strange, swooping sensation takes place in my chest when I see her. I don't understand why.

"Sure, come on in," I say sarcastically.

"How's the head?"

"Sore."

She positions herself beside me, arm touching mine. A little too close. Her scent washes over me. Pretty, feminine and flowery. The fluttery feeling ignites in my chest again.

"I bought a bottle of Vodka from Harlow," Cora grins. "Want to crack it open tonight?"

Yes.

"No."

She pouts. Her lips are full. Unnaturally full.

"Why not?"

"Have you had lip fillers?" I ask.

"Yes, two times." She puckers them and makes an exaggerated kiss sound. "Why don't you want to drink with me?"

"Trying this thing where I don't do that anymore."

"How's the working out for you?"

"Not as bad as I expected."

"Boring," she whispers, leaning in, her warm breath blasting over my face. "Come on, Addison. Live."

"I'm trying to."

"Mmhmm," she murmurs.

"Are you hooking up with Harlow?"

She turns her head to the side and our eyes meet. "Why? Are you jealous?"

Her question makes my insides squirm uncomfortably. I'm taking too long to answer a question I thought I knew the answer to.

"No," I say. "Why would I be jealous?"

"Why wouldn't you be?" she counters with a smirk.

I face the ceiling and close my eyes, the pounding in my head having returned. I exhale a long breath, hoping the pain will wisp away, through my lips, into the air and out of the room.

The mattress dips as Cora pushes onto her elbow. I feel her soft lips touch my temple. I'm frozen, hardly daring to breathe. Her hair falls across my face, tickling me.

"Does it hurt here?" she whispers.

"Yes."

She kisses it again. She moves to the centre of my head. "What about here?"

"Yes."

She kisses it again, this time swinging her leg over my waist and straddling me.

"And here?"

"Yes."

She softly kisses my eyelids. I haven't breathed air for thirty seconds. My skin heats. My heart erratic.

"Here?"

"Yes."

She kisses my other temple. Then she keeps going. She kisses down the side of my face, my eyes, my nose, my chin, my jaw, my neck. I try not swallow, but my mouth has dried out.

"Cora," I rasp out. "What are you doing?"

"What you're too afraid to admit you want me to be doing," she purrs against my skin.

"No," I whisper.

"No?"

"No."

She wedges her leg between mine, pressing more of her weight onto me. Her hand brushes my hair. I'm too scared to move. Or to open my eyes.

"Push me off, then."

I inhale sharply, but don't move.

Her hand presses somewhere it shouldn't. It starts moving. Her mouth is against my ear, hot breath hitting my skin. Her finger slowly teases me and a soft moan leaves my lips.

She kisses the corner of my mouth before quickly sitting up. Cold air strikes me hard and my eyes fly open. Cora sits at the end of my bed now, a slow, cat-like smirk stretching over her lips.

The door flings open again, breaking our electrifying stare with each other.

"Get the fuck out," Constance snaps, the moment her slitted eyes land on Cora.

"Already leaving," she rolls her eyes, springing to her feet.

Without a backward glance, she leaves the room. Her scent is everywhere. The air. My sheets. My skin.

I lay back and stare at the ceiling once more.

"Fuck," I whisper. 

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Thoughts...?