#get some Botox if you’re that jealous of our skin

[delicateimage]

I can’t wait to be like 28 or 30 but if i do and I still don’t have a life….

[reidsnose]

Black Eye

overview: reader and spencer go to reader's highschool reunion as a fake couple

genre: fluff i think

warnings: mild violence and swearing, a guy being kind of a total creep, and mentions of bullying

a/n: idk if its any good again just love the idea but it was inspired by a dream i had last night (thank you temporal lobe) so yeah let me know what yall think !! :) also im posting this at like ass oclock in the morning so whoops

masterlist

-

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you and spencer had gotten yourselves in quite the situation.

your dreaded highschool reunion was just around the corner and you made the mistake of complaining about it to penelope. she was always trying to make everyones life easier (and more interesting) so when she heard you had no date she took it upon herself to find you one.

it didn't take a lot of looking, none at all actually; because Penelope had already been trying to figure out ways to get you and Reid together.

you two were undeniably perfect for each other. you were an amazing team at work, you hung out alone all the time (though both of you denied these hang out as being dates, Garcia had her own ideas on this), and you were both very obliviously head over heels for each other.

and somehow, through the magical ways of Penelope Garcia, you and Spencer were now sitting in the parking lot, fake married for your high school reunion.

"do we need to go over our back story again?" you worried, looking up at him.

"our backstory is basically all true anyway we just fall in love after a little bit. and i have an eidetic memory so i remember; you're my wife you should know this!" he joked, trying to relax you. "we got this! we're gonna be so married!"

Spencer had actually never been this nervous in his life but he was trying to be brave for you. it would be more embarrassing for you both to show up like nervous wrecks than if you had just come alone. he was just happy to get to be fake married to you.

"the marriedest!" smiled, fist bumping him.

"now lets go make some people jealous!" he chuckled getting out of the car and jogging over to your side, opening your door before you got the chance to; like a true gentleman.

you stuck out your hand which he happily took into his, neither of you commenting on the redness you both had sprinkled across your cheeks. as you walked in, you saw all the people you dreaded seeing.

the boys who tormented you were balding and the girls who made sure you felt awful everyday had wrinkles riddling there skin. you were surrounded by botched botox and bleached blonde to cover graying hair. you felt terrible to admit it, but you were a little happy to see that their beauty had faded like this; they made their looks their whole personality in high school, you couldn't help but wonder what was left for them to be. not that it mattered, but you and Spencer were undeniably the most attractive couple there.

you actually had an ok time, you had spotted a few of your friends that you hadn't seen in quite a few years and it was nice to catch up.

Spencer had wondered a bit, but not too far, he was talking to some guys who used to be in science club when you were younger. you smiled at the thought of what they might be talking about.

"y/n! hey youve really filled out!" you heard a gruff voice from behind you.

you turned around and were met with the very unappealing face of the ex quarterback. Spencers attention had been caught at the sound of your name.

"um..hello," you muttered, trying to covertly back away from him.

"i see youve got a ring, interesting i dont remember us getting married!" he said in an incredibly creepy tone.

"do you know im a federal agent now?" you said through a gritted smile.

spencer had already begun walking towards you, he could tell something was off.

"ill tell you what sweetheart," he put his hand on your shoulder, pulling you slightly closer to him, "you can put me in handcuffs any day."

you threw his hand off of you and drew back your fist, but were cut off before you could deliver the punch but his hand engulfing your own, and squeezing.

"THATS MY WIFE!" spencer yelled in a voice you had never heard from him before.in the blink of an eye he was standing between in front of him. "do not ever talk to her like that, let alone lay a finger on her or so help me God i will-"

"what beanpole? what are you gonna do? what if i did this?" the man asked.

and then he sent a swift punch to Spencer's face.

thats gonna leave a mark.

in a matter of seconds, Spencer had him overpowered, laying face first on the floor with his hands uncomfortably angled behind him, completely helpless.

"now i'm going to let you go and you're going to walk out of here unharmed. if you try anything like that again, ill let my wife handle you. and i promise if she gets a hold of you, you'll be a dead son of a bitch." Spencer muttered in the mans ear, gruffly pulling him up by his collar and shoving him towards the door.

"were leaving." you said, grabbing Spencer's hand, trying to ignore how incredibly attractive he looked right now.

"babe if you want to stay we can stay," he offered as if he didn't just have his shit kicked in by a coward with misogynistic tendencies.

"honey, i want to take you home," you smiled, liking the way it felt to call him a pet name. you walked into the parking lot, "what were you thinking?"

"i was thinking this guy is trying to hurt you and i was not going to ever let that happen." he answered confidently as you two reached the car. "plus this totally made the marriage thing more believable. i wouldn't get a black eye for just anyone."

"thank you. i'm sorry you got punched trying to protect me." you sighed, feeling incredibly awful about the whole thing.

he chuckled, "id do it again."

you fought hard against the blush creeping up your face.

"i gotta say, the black eye really suits you. you look pretty badass." you chuckled, trying to change the subject before it got too sappy and you said something you shouldn't.

"maybe it should just be my new look," he joked, looking down at a ping from his phone. "uh oh."

"we have a case?" you asked.

"yep. and hotch wants us in the office asap which means we cont stop by either of our houses." he sighed before starting the car.

the drive was mostly silent. but a comfortable silence. Spencer thought about how in the moment, he didn't care how many punches the guy threw at him, as long as it meant you were ok, he was willing to take it. he knew he loved you far before that moment but that truly solidified it.

at the same time you were thinking of how quickly your time as a 'married couple' was over. it felt so right to call Spencer yours. so unexplainably perfect for the two of you to be together. if only your time wasn't cut short by a sucker punch.

you neared the building's parking lot. you looked over at Spencer who you could very easily tell was lost in his own world.

"whats going on in that beautiful head of yours?" you asked, causing him to stifle a smile.

"just thinking." he answered.

"what about?"

"us." he stated, pulling into his parking spot.

oh. oh.

"do tell."

he hesitated, "if i tell you, and you disagree, do you promise it wont change anything about us?"

"i promise."

"did it feel right to you? us being together?" he asked, his eyes innocent and filled to the brim with a mixture of anxiety and adoration as he looked at you.

"yes. it absolutely did. and i was so mad at the assclown for cutting our time short," you admitted, "and punching you in the eye, obviously."

"i- i'm not sure how to ask this but- do you...would you..sorry i-" he stammered.

"yes."

you cut him off, pressing your lips to his. his hand gently cupped your face, deepening the kiss and you both felt like you were on cloud nine.

"thats exactly what i was trying to say," he cracked a dopey smile, causing you to chuckle.

"i've been trying to say it for so long." you confessed, causing him to smile impossibly wider, "we gotta go hotch is waiting."

"just one more kiss?" he asked, which you gave in to, obviously. and then another. and another.

maybe it was good thing that he got a black eye that day, because when you got to the office the whole team was so focused on it they didn't even notice the hint of your lipstick left on spencers lips.

-

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ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos

[myalmostmidlifecrisis]

Side Note: Am I 13 or Almost 40?

Well hello there! Welcome to the My Almost Midlife Crisis, I’m your host Jennifer Mathis. Today it’s all about what it’s like to get zits as an adult which at times can make you feel like you’re 13 going on 40.

If you haven’t listened to Episode 1 yet, To Botox or Not to Botox, I encourage you to do so as we talk about all sorts of fun changes to our face and hair as we get older like getting grey hair, all the way to Botox.

As an almost middle-aged woman, I find myself having to deal with zits and breakouts for the first time in my life. Last week I mentioned that I grew up using Noxema which must have done the trick because I never really had the issue of acne or zits when I was going through puberty.

Now before you get all like – oh, must be nice Jennifer, hear me out. While I may not have had to deal with zits, all teenagers have something they have to deal with amongst their cruel and heartless classmates that are so quick to point out things on your body that you have no control over and cannot change. For a lot of teens, that’s acne. But for me, it was that I had no boobs until pretty much college.

I didn’t hit puberty until I was heading into high school so I would definitely be what they call a “late bloomer”. I remember going in the locker room for gym class and getting changed. All the girls around me would have their bras, they’d be using their deodorant and they would have their satin underwear. I don’t know why the satin under, in particular, stuck in my head but boy did I want a pair of satin underwear. I just thought they looked so grown up. And they did look grown up vs. what I was wearing, my cotton bloomies. You know which ones I’m talking about. The white cotton ones with the days of the week written on them?  So I would beg my mom to get me satin underwear, but she was not having it.

She always told me that I couldn’t get it because I was too young. Which is a bad strategy because if you tell a child or a teenager that they are too young for something, they just want it more. She should have just told me, “listen, satin underwear is not all it’s cracked up to be. It looks nice but it’s not comfortable, it doesn’t breath, you’ll get a yeast infection and trust me, you’re better off with cotton.”

So may lack of development in those years pretty much made me invisible to any boys. Except for one.

Let’s just for sake of story call him Tom. Let me paint a picture of you. You get changed for gym class. You’re sitting in a circle with your friends, although I was kind of a dork so let’s just say I was sitting with a group of peers. You’re waiting for gym class to start. You’re doing your stretches, stretching those hamstrings, getting ready for whatever your gym teacher is going to throw at you that day. Tom calls everyone’s attention, turns to me, lifts up his shirt, points to his chest and asks me if I was jealous.

Yeah, I was pretty much humiliated. The fact that I’m going to be 40 soon and I can still vividly picture this scene in my brain, even down to the detail of what color shirt he was wearing should speak to speak to how humiliated I was. It forever stuck with me.

I would like to say this story didn’t necessarily end with that. I was able to turn it into a happy ending because one year when I was coming home from college and at the gym, guess who I ran into? Lil Mr. Tom, which by the way wasn’t aging that well. Saw me in the gym, asked me on a date and I was able to turn him down. After the humiliation I was caused, it felt really good!

Anyway I digress. Now as an adult I look back and think about – was it better to be a late bloomer because I skipped the whole teenage acne situation? Or would it have been better to have acne as a teenager? When you’re a late bloomer, sooner or later you bloom, and it’s fine. You move on and it’s no longer an issue. But acne is something you could get throughout your entire life. Wouldn’t you rather have an opportunity to figure out what system works for you when you’re younger so you have that in your back pocket, in your tool kit, for the rest of your life?

But I didn’t have that. So as an adult, when I started getting zits, whether it was from stress or maybe it was pre-period zits, I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know what were the best products. I didn’t know what to do.  I would just be googling it.

It’s crazy because as you get older and our bodies continue to change, you would think we could catch a break sometime. You would think we could swap it out instead of it being additive. Like for example, when I was younger I could pretty much eat whatever I wanted. There was one summer when I pretty much lived off of Sprite, Doritos and cigarettes and I turned out just fine.

But now, it’s this constant attention to detail on what I am putting in my body because at any moment, I could have some dairy, beans or gluten that will disagree with me and then I’m immediately feeling bloated and like I’ve gained five pounds. It’s only fair that if for the rest of my life I have to pay close attention to detail on the food that goes into my mouth so I can feel good, I should at least be able to get rid of zits.

For the most part my skin regimen seems to be working but every once and I will I still get zits here or there. In my FitFabFun box, I have now gotten these stickers for zits in two of them. The first pack I got was a mixture of black and red circle stickers. It reminds me of that game Girl Talk. I don’t know if you will know what I’m talking about or if they still sell it but as you went through the game, I don’t remember the rules, but as you went through the game, the worse you did the more red circle stickers you had to put on your face to simulate zits. Therefore the person that won the game had the least amount of zits on their face. Gee, no wonder we grew up being embarrassed if we had zits! We straight up had a popular game that shamed us for it!

The first round of stickers reminded me of that game and reminded me of that. But they didn’t really work anyway so if you got them just throw them away. I will say the ones I got recently seem to work better, they’re shaped like stars. Little black stars. On my last period, or pre-period, I got a couple of zits that were starting to form. I had three. So I was like “Ok, let’s try these out.”

So I put them on my forehead and I’m going to bed, which I realize these stickers are made for single people because if you are in a relationship when you’re wearing these stickers you look like a damn fool. But thankfully we have a very open and honest relationship so I feel comfortable enough in my own skin where I can wear these. So I come into bed, and my fiancé turns to me and says “Babe, your forehead looks like the galaxy.” Ha! He’s totally right! It did look like a galaxy. I mean, how romantic. What a great way to end the night. Hey, you feeling spicy? I have a galaxy on my forehead.

I feel like if they had these when I was a kid, that would have made having zits fun. Maybe that’s what they should do. Instead of having a game that shames you for having zits, they should have stickers that are stars so it can be a fun game. And maybe if they would have had something like this for late bloomers like myself, it would have taken the attention away from the lack of cleavage for the kids to focus on.

Anyway, there’s no way around it. Having zits as an adult sucks. And while you have your skin regimen, you have your Retinol and you have these stickers, and they all seem to help to some degree, I don’t think it’s actually possible to completely eliminate adult zits. Zits come from two things, stress and hormones. So once a month, as a female, your hormones are out of wack. But also stress. Stress, as adults, comes with the territory. So it seems like something you just have to live with.

But at least it’s something we can all laugh at together because unlike when you are a teenager, your fellow adults are not going to point out your zits in public so everyone laughs at you.

Tune in next week because we’re going to be closing out the conversation, we’ve been having the last couple weeks about the pressure women feel to keep looking young, by bringing in a new perspective. I’m going to be sitting down with one of my closest friends, Catherine, to understand her view on all these topics from Retinol and Botox and skin regimen and adult zits and all that great stuff we’ve been talking about and we’ll have some fun and laughs in the process.

Until next week!

[fairytellerxo]

Queen

As requested by anonymous, Angel helping his girl through her insecurities.

Enjoy!

-

Natalia groaned as she turned around in the mirror, hating everything that was being reflected back at her. She honestly could remember the last time she was completely happy with her body. It was right before she had gotten pregnant. Two years ago. Now, it was a constant battle to love her body.

“Damn, look at that ass.” Angel snuck up behind the brunette and kissed her cheek. “You look good babe.”

She sighed as she looked at him in the mirror. “Do I really? I think I need to diet or something.” She turned to the side. “I don’t like my belly.”

He furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong with it? It’s flat, isn’t that what you wanted?” He rubbed her hips lazily. “You’re fucking perfect, no reason for you to beat yourself up over.”

“I don’t know, I just wish it was defined and my hips slimmer.” She huffed. “I really do have childbearing hips now.”

“Yeah because you had our son,” he kissed her head. “There is absolutely nothing more beautiful than a woman who had a kid. Baby, you brought a human into the world. This body has been through hell and back. I cannot get enough of this body. You should own it, be proud and if you really hate it, we’re on the border, we can go to Mexico and get plastic surgery but it could get botched… or we can work our together and you can build the body you want. Remember? We used to always work out together.”

“I know but look at me, I don’t want plastic surgery, I’ve seen all those shows about bad plastic surgery. You know my Tia Rocia got lipo in Mexico and nearly died from a flesh eating bacteria!” She shook her head. “I just want my clothes to look good on me, like everything.”

“They look good on you, off you, on the floor,” he kissed her again. “Listen we’ll start hitting the gym again. It’ll be super fun babe. I promise.”

She nodded slowly as she looked at him and smiled. “You’re way too good to me.”

“And you’re way too good for me but we moved past that.” He smirked. “Your body to me is a work of art, I wish you could see the beauty that I can see.”

Natalia covered her face and shook her head. “God, Angel. I hate how cheesy you are but I love it at the same time.” She dropped her hands before hugging him tightly . “I’d be a nutcase without you.”

“Okay, that’s a lie because you’re a nutcase.” He rubbed her back softly. “Like how you got all jealous the other night at the party and smacked the shit out of that girl.”

“She kept touching you,” she shrugged. “You’re all mine. Sorry, I don’t share. Can’t share with anyone but family.”

Angel smirked. “I was kinda proud, I was like yeah that’s my girl, laying the law down.”

She smiled. “I can imagine how proud you were.” She sighed. “I still need to get dressed and ready for the day. Our boy needs to show face at my dad’s.”

“There it is,” he looked at her. “Your insecurities always increase when you have to go to your dad’s house. His wife giving you shit again?”

“Last week she said I could do without wearing leggings because they’re not doing me any good whatsoever.” She shrugged. “The week before that she asked me if I was pregnant again. I was bloated and on my period.”

He groaned as he passed her some jeans and a shirt. “Look baby, you gott ignore that dumb ass bitch. She ain’t no one babe. She wish she looked half as good as you. She’s got a frozen fucking face, too much Botox.” He smiled at her. “You always get super insecure and unsure of yourself when other days you’re super confident and killing the game.”

Natalia slipped into the jeans before pulling the shirt on. “I know, I know but it’s been this since they got married when I was like twelve.” She sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror. “At least I don’t have muffin top in these jeans.”

Angel pulled the brunette to him and rested his hands on her waist. “Listen, Listen, Listen. Bring back the confident boss ass bitch, the one who runs a freaking business while her kid chills on her hip. That one, keep that attitude and you’ll learn to love the skin you’re in. Babe, there ain’t shit wrong with you, you want to improve the booty or tighten up even more? Then we’re hitting the gym, starting tomorrow fucking morning. I’m not gonna let you talk bad on yourself. You’re my fucking Queen, see yourself that way too. Repeat after me, I’m a Queen and I’m gonna fucking own my insecurities and not let them own me.”

“I’m a Queen and I’m gonna fucking own my insecurities and not let one me.” She smiled at him. “I have not a damn clue what I would do without you.” She chuckled. “Sexy as fuck motivational speaker.”

“Read that self help book you leave in the bathroom for your baths.” He laughed as he kissed her forehead. “I love you, six am tomorrow, we’re starting booty camp.” He squeezed her ass roughly. “Can’t wait to see how more juicy this ass can get.”

[areswriting]

a x e : xxxv

Two hours earlier:

“I don’t think she wants me there, El.”

“Please,” says Ellie. She pours clear tequila into two long shot glasses and pushes one toward me. “She gave up Oxford for you—what more do you want? A big flashing light that says ABRAM, I’M NOT OVER YOU YET. PLEASE COME HOME. Take your shot and man up.”

“I haven’t seen or talked to her in almost a year. What if she’s moved on?” I say, throwing my head back. The chilled tequila burns as it goes down, and I squirm as I slam the glass down, face scrunched up “What kind of hell sent demon are you?”

Ellie laughs as she leans over the table and fills the glasses a second time. “You get used to the way it tastes—and she hasn’t moved on. I would know if she had. Drink.”

“You wouldn’t care if she had,” I say, and I take the second shot. This time, my whole body shivers and I holler as I set the glass back down. “And there is no getting used to that.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t care,” she says, shrugging and pouring a third shot. “But she’s not, and tonight you’re going to win her back.”

I take the shot without being told to and it warms my whole body. “Ok, no more tequila for me. Three shots is where I max out.”

“By the way,” says Ellie, flashing a smile, “Those were double shots.”

△ △ △

“No one tricked me into coming,” I say. I lean against the counter, watching as Elise pours three knuckles worth of tequila into a wineglass, my body swaying. “And really—Ellie’s friend. You don’t want to tell your new friends about how I used to eat your—”

A hard jab to my ribs stops me from speaking, and Elise chokes on her drink.

“Abram,” hisses Ellie, her eyes burning into me as I stand up straight.

“Telle classe,” mutters Knox from behind us. I turn my head and she smirks at me. “Est-ce que quelqu'un d'autre pense qu'il a l'air sans abri?”

“Oui,” laughs Justin, “Qui d'autre porte des pantalons de survêtement en public?”

“Quelqu'un avec assez de bite pour être fier,” I say, blatantly eyeballing the front of his skin tight pants. “Isn’t that right, Elise?”

“Abram!” Elise says through gritted teeth, her whole face turning red and I know it’s not because of the alcohol.

“What? What did he say?” says Ellie, looking between Elise and I, and her snobby friends.

“You don’t want to know,” says Elise. She turns to her friends and offers them an apologetic look. “Excuse me, I’m going to show Ellie’s friend to the door.”

Elise grabs my upper arm, but when I flex under her grasp she takes a tight hold on my elbow. I hear Simon shouting for both of us as she weaves us through the crowd, but she doesn’t stop until we are outside of her apartment and the door slams behind her.

“What are you doing, Abram,” she says, stepping toward me. “Did you come to embarrass me and ruin my night?”

“No,” I say, stumbling backwards.

“You’re drunk,” she says as she grabs my arms and steadies me.

“Yes,” I nod, “But it was Ellie’s fault. She gave me shots of tequila—did you know it starts to taste like water when you drink enough of it?”

“Stop!” she yells. “I don’t want to hear about tequila, or you blaming Ellie like you’re a five year old. There is a reason we haven’t talked in almost a year—there is a reason we haven’t seen each other. And that reason is because as much as I loved you, I love me more. You can’t just show up drunk—you can’t just show up at all, Abram. I’m better now—you—you need to go.”

“Some things never do change do they?” I laugh. “Oh, I’m Elise, the queen of everyone and everything. Ruler of the free world—”

“You’re at my apartment!” she hollers. “I’m allowed to tell you to go, that I don’t want to see you.”

“You’re lying,” I challenge.

“I am not!”

I step closer. “I love you.”

“Abram, stop.”

“I love you, Elise,” I say again.

She turns half her body away from me before I snatch her up and move until her back is against the wall instead of mine.

“I forgive you,” I say, my hands half on her face, half on her neck. “For Sylvia, for everything. I forgive you, and I love you.”

She bites her bottom lip, her glossy eyes looking anywhere but at me. “You’re drunk, Abram. We’ve been here before.”

“But we haven’t,” I say.

“We have,” she says, her voice straining. “You’ll wake up in the morning and you’ll realize that coming here was a mistake.”

“None of the mistakes I’ve made have ever involved you,” I say, my lips so close to hers that I can feel her breath. “And I’ll wake up in the morning knowing I told the love of my life how I feel.”

I feel her body relax in the slightest, our lips almost touching—and her apartment door flies open.

I look up to see Ellie with a tear stained face. “We have to go,” she says as she steps outside.

“Ellie?” says Elise. “What’s wrong?”

I see what’s wrong in the form of Brody hurrying to the door. Our eyes meet and I’m the first to look always, moving quickly to stand by Ellie’s side.

“Ellie, I swear I didn’t know he’d be here,” says Elise.

“Abram?” says Brody. “Ellie—wait.”

I move behind her, blocking her from his view.

△ △ △

The next day Ellie and I take turns nursing each other’s hangovers with greasy foods, Excedrin and black coffee. We both vow we will never drink again, and even make pinky promises to be each other’s sober buddies. But we both know the other is full of shit—neither of us will ever be a good influence over the other.

“Can you type any louder?” I ask, pulling a pillow over my face and ears.

“I don’t think so,” says Ellie, pressing each key with enough force to pop them off.

“You suck.”

“No, Brody sucks,” she says. “I can’t believe he had the audacity to show up last night. He had to know I was going to be there.”

“That’s probably why he was there,” I say.

“Shut up,” she spits. “He was trying to get under my skin—he had Natasha with him.”

I sigh loudly. “It’s not entirely impossible that he wanted to see you. And of course Notasha was with him, she’s always with him. She’s like a five-foot eleven inch growth.”

Ellie snorts, then whines. “Stop making me laugh—it hurts.”

I pull the pillow down and sit up, using my foot to shut her laptop.

“You should call Elise,” I say. “See if she’s ok after I—”

“—made a complete ass of yourself?”

I roll my eyes.

“Sorry,” she sighs. “I really thought alcohol would help.”

“Well, I probably wouldn’t have done that sober,” I say, shrugging and laying back onto the couch.

“Do you want to go get dinner after I publish this blog?” she asks.

I open my mouth to answer but before I can, the sound of Ellie’s apartment door flies open.

“Ellie—you will not believe what Natasha tried selling me last night!”

“Botox?” says Ellie. “Or another stolen story?”

“Oh, it’s better than that,” says Elise. “She tried telling me that she was certain that you and Abram were hooking up! And that’s not even the bad part—she has Brody drinking the Ellbram Kool-Aid.”

“What?” Ellie and I say in unison, my spine pulling me straight up on the sofa.

Elise’s eyes double in size as she takes in the sight of me, her hand pressing against her heart.

“I—I didn’t know you were here,” she sputters out.

“Never mind him,” says Ellie, tossing her laptop onto the cluttered coffee table. “Brody believes it?”

“Well, he wasn’t exactly telling her she was crazy for even mentioning it,” she says, looking only at Ellie. “Of course I know it’s laughable, but Brody almost looked mad about it.”

“Bullshit,” I say, swinging my legs off of the couch. “Brody knows better.”

“I thought he knew, better, too,” says Elise. “I mean, I personally can see why she might think that because she doesn’t know us, but—”

“—but Brody does,” says Ellie.

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” I say, standing and slipping my Nike sandals over my socks.

△ △ △

I set my phone face up on the table, sipping my peanut butter and chocolate smoothie, my eyes focused on the large glass window. Every time I see a car park, I sit up a little straighter, but find myself slumping down over and over again.

Halfway through my frozen treat, I stop watching the traffic and take interest in playing candy crush on my phone.

Feeling eyes on me, I glance up. Not only do I see Brody—but I also see Natasha, both carrying bottles of Smart Water. And without greeting me like he used to, Brody sits across from me, Natasha hanging onto his arm as she sits beside him.

“It’s nice to see you, Natasha,” I say, my tone conveying otherwise.

She gives me a fake smile and rolls her eyes as she takes a long drink of water.

“Don’t be like that,” says Brody. “She didn’t do anything to you.”

“Well,” I say, “from what I hear, she’s telling everyone I’m hooking up with Ellie, and I happen to have a problem with that.”

“God, Abram, what don’t you have a problem with these days?” says Brody, pulling his hat off.

Tongue in cheek, I fold my arms. “You do realize it’s insane to think Ellie and I—”

“It’s not insane,” Brody speaks over me, shaking his head. “You two? Have been attached at the hip since June.”

“She’s my friend,” I say.

He presses his lips into a thin line. “What am I?”

“Why are you being like that?”

“She tried to ruin my life, Abram!” Brody says, voice rising. “You have other friends—it has to be something more.”

“Oh my, God,” I say, and I laugh humorlessly. “Do you know how stupid that sounds? And no, I don’t have other friends. I had you and her.”

“Had?” he says. “That’s rich, seeing as though you’re the one who decided she was worth more than our friendship!”

“That isn’t true and you know it,” I say, hands shaking. “She’s all I have left, because you—”

“Because he got drafted?” Natasha interjects. “You’ve been a Debbie Downer ever since the draft picks. You’re jealous, so you’re trying to get back at him—”

“Shut up, Natasha,” I snap. “No one is talking to you.”

“Don’t speak to her like that,” Brody snaps back. “And she’s right. You’ve been the least supportive person I know through all of this. God, I’m sorry you got screwed out of a spot, but that’s not my fault, Abram. Get over yourself.”

“Get over myself?” I say, brows creasing. “Get the fuck over yourself, Brody. You’re the one who thinks the suns rises and sets out of your own ass now that you’re in the NHL.”

“Maybe if you had worked harder, you would have been picked, too,” says Natasha.

White, hot anger courses through me and my balled up fist slams into the table, knuckles first.

△ △ △

I only go to my first day of classes because Ellie literally drags me to them. We sit at a three person table, Ellie sitting on the end, leaving me to sit between her and an empty seat.

“Trade with me,” I say. “I don’t want to do human communication today. I might punch someone.”

She taps away on her phone and shakes her head. “I promise, you’ll like whoever sits beside you.”

“What are you doing over there?” I ask, leaning into view of her phone.

“Texting Elise directions,” she says. “Put your bag in the seat so no hot girl tries to sit beside you and hit on you. She’s running late.”

“Are you saying—”

A tall girl with dark skin lingers at our table, looking between Ellie and I. “I’m sorry, is that seat taken?”

“It is,” she says, and she puts her hand up to the side of her mouth. “His imaginary friend is sitting there.”

The girls’ eyes go wide and she hurries further down the aisle.

“Ellie!” I say. “She’s going to think I’m crazy!”

“Duh, that was the point. She can’t try to get into your pants if she thinks you’re nuts. Oh—look, there’s Elise.” She waves her hand into the air, motioning for her to join us.

She hesitates, but surprises me by slipping behind our chairs and sitting down beside me.

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