I’ve always been into girls with dark hair. Her skin is a smooth, even shade of brown with legs that are short, but firm. I can definitely picture them wrapped around my waist.

              Luckily for me, she spoke and ruined it.

              Pity isn’t the only thing I don’t do. Princesses are high on my list too.

              Though if she was on the real, it would feel good to stick it to Pretty Boy.

              Again.

              I hate assholes like him who think they own the fucking world and can get away with whatever they want. He’s a bully and I hate people who throw their weight around like that. So I showed him how it felt to be picked on.

              I walk across the street tossing a look over my shoulder. Princess is walking away, her hips swaying back and forth as she goes. She knows how hot she is.

Nope. This girl isn’t someone I want to screw around with.

My cell beeps. Its Adrian so I pick it up, knowing he probably has something going on that I need. “Hey.”

“Hey, man. What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just leaving school and heading home.”

“You got anything?”

My gut tightens after he asks. Yeah, I’ve always known I wouldn’t amount to shit, but I never saw this for myself. It would kill Mom. “Depends on how much you need.” I only deal in weed so there’s no point in asking what he wants.

“An eighth. It’s for a friend who stopped by.”

“We’re good. I’ll be there in a few,” I tell him.

I hang up wondering if this was how stuff started for my dad. If he did it just to help out, but things got out of control. Nah. Not him. I hate that prick. He was always letting Mom down. I can’t be like that.

Can’t.

~CHAPTER FIVE~

Cheyenne

              The next day, I still can’t get over Tattoo Guy. I mean, what was his problem? I didn’t do anything to him. Even if he didn’t want to go through with it, he didn’t have to be such a jerk about it.

              It’s always the hot ones who are assholes. I used to think Gregory was the exception. Obviously I was wrong there.

              My heart is beating about a million miles an hour as I get ready to go to class. With Gregory. And if I remember correctly, Red, who I never paid much attention to, but will now.

I’d rather my heart didn’t beat at all if that didn’t mean I was—well, dead. But I can feel my control slipping. Feel myself getting panicky. Again. That’s what I hate Gregory for the most. I finally have the control I need and he’s taken that away from me. He makes me feel like I’m going to have a breakdown. That’s not something I’ll let myself do. I won’t lose it.

              When I lift my brush to my hair, my hands are shaking. Shaking. Get it together, Chey. I concentrate on running the brush through my chocolate-brown hair. It reminds me of Hershey Bars—which brings a memory of Mom flooding back to the surface. She loved chocolate. I remember a time when we had it for dinner for three days straight.

              Fighting back those thoughts, I brush again, letting it take the tremor out of my hands. That’s one memory I don’t mind letting drift to the surface—for a few seconds at least. Mom always used to brush my hair and I loved it. It made me feel taken care of when I was anything but.

              My dorm room door opens and Andy walks in. She scans me quickly before saying, “You look nice. Don’t tell me you’re dressing up for your ex.” She walks past me and flops onto her bed.

              “Umm, thanks?” I’m not sure what else to say.

              “Holy shit. Don’t tell me you’re going to be like that. Don’t get all stressed out because I told you I like girls and then said you look nice.”

              “What?” I whip around. I hadn’t even thought of that. “I didn’t even think about that, thank you very much. I just don’t get why you think I’m dressing up.” I look down at my mini-skirt and wedges. The skirt is purple and my tank top’s white. I’m not sure what’s so dressed up about it.

              “You dress like that every day?”

              “Why wouldn’t I?” I love my clothes. Love that I have them. I didn’t always.

              Andy shrugs, but I can see her looking down at me. Her nose is crinkled and I bet she doesn’t know it. I want to tell her she doesn’t know what it’s like—to go from having nothing to having everything. To wearing the same thing for days and then having so many clothes to choose from that I lost count. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look good.”

              She shakes her pink-haired head at me as though she thinks I’m ridiculous. I’m about to tell her where she can stick it when she says, “There’s a party tonight. It’s supposed to be a good one. You’re welcome to come with Veronica and me.”

              “Oh…um…” The truth is, I’m not sure I can go to a party without Gregory. I’m always a little nervous at them. I got over it, because that’s what I do, but I’m also close to having panic attacks again too.

Gregory doesn’t even know I have them it’s been so long, yet now I can’t seem to stop my fingers from curling and my chest from feeling tight.

That’s not all.

I hate admitting it, even to myself, but what if he’s there with her? Will I be able to handle it? And…I don’t really know Andy either. What if we don’t get along? What if they leave me? I don’t want to be alone. Can’t.

              “Just an offer. You don’t have to hyperventilate.”

              I turn away from her, busying myself with makeup. I am breathing heavy. I can’t believe I’m getting so worked up over this.

              “I’ll help you find your mama.”

              Just like they did all those years ago. My eyes start to sting. Liquid drips over the brim, but this time it’s colored with my make-up.

              “Hey, are you okay?”

              I concentrate on my words as I speak them. “Yeah. Fine. I just poked my eye.”

              I do everything to try and fight this off. I’m over it. Past it. The new Cheyenne who doesn’t have such a screwed up past.

              “I can’t do the party tonight. I forgot I have plans.”

              I hate Gregory even more for unearthing my past. Maybe it’s me I should hate for letting it slip back in, just because of a guy.

              Or maybe it was never gone in the first place.

***

              I walk into class right before it starts. My head is high, no sign of the tears that tried to drown me earlier. I’m over it now. Gregory, Maxine or anyone else isn’t worth becoming that scared, lonely girl I was when Mom would leave me. I won’t let myself be the one left behind again.

              I don’t keep my eyes from scanning the room. Not in a needy way, but in a nonchalant, I don’t-give-a-shit one. I catch Gregory’s eye across the room and don’t turn away. He gives me a small smile, which I don’t return, before he looks away. I sit tall, hands shaking in my lap proud I’m not coming apart. All sewn up tight the way I’m supposed to be.

***

              I take my time gathering my things when class is over. Not because I’m weak and can’t handle seeing Gregory and Red. Whatever. I’m over them, but I’m tired from lack of sleep and I’m not going to be that girl who has to rush out of class so I don’t run into them.

              I hear her laugh and I cringe, accidentally knocking my stuff to the floor. Great.

              By the time I make it out, the large room is empty except for my professor who’s not paying me any attention. I leave the room and step into the busy hall. People carry books, coffees, weaving around me like I’m not there. My stomach suddenly aches.

              I turn, ready to head to my next class when I see them. Gregory and Red. He has her pressed against the wall, his lips on hers and his hips grinding into her. Yes. Right there for the world to see. I want to puke. The jerk has been calling me non-stop, leaving voicemails and he’s making out with her right in front of me?