Diamonds - Linde K. A.. Страница 35

She would not be sad about Jude. How could I be when everything I truly knew about him has been shattered in a matter of minutes? How could I be when he walked out without even the decency of saying good-bye? She was a realist. She had known as soon as Felicity walked through the door that their chance was over.

But grow some fucking balls!

Jude should have owned up to what they had done and told Felicity that he wasn’t happy in their marriage. He shouldn’t have been a pussy by running back to her with his tail between his legs.

No, Jude had made it clear that he had never been hers. They were just strangers with memories.

She wasn’t sad. She was pissed. She wanted to tear everything apart. Destroy it. Burn it to the ground. Just so the world could feel a fraction of what was annihilating her heart.

She had lost everything since that first night she had left with Jude. She had abandoned and neglected Avery and Tara and then further isolated them by kicking them off the committee. Part of it had been related to Pace, but she had been so irritated about what was going on with Jude that she wasn’t able to think straight.

And Gates. He loved her. What did I do in return? Taken advantage of him. Made him deal with her Jude-induced insanity. Accused him of being jealous. Pushed him away.

She couldn’t rebuild that. How could he forgive me? How could I even ask him to forgive me?

She had let her guard down once. Just once for Jude. Now, it had all been thrown right back in her face.

Never again.

She would never again suffer like this. She would take control. She would call the shots. She already had a game plan and knew what she needed to do.

She touched the Harry Winston B at her throat, admiring her scarlet letter. If Jude had wanted to create a gold digger, then a gold digger she would become.

The End

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so ask yourself if you are willing

to burn. because the moment you

open yourself to me, i will have

no choice but to scorch everything

that defines you. and without

regret, i will devour and i will

leave nothing behind.

—r.m. drake

HELL HATH NO FURY like a woman scorned.

That was the damn truth.

Bryna twirled her Harry Winston B diamond necklace around her finger and parted her pouty lips. She had decided on a gold glitter Chanel dress and hot-as-fuck Jimmy Choos, and when she walked into Las Vegas State’s local nightclub, Posse, all eyes turned her way. Just the way she liked it.

She was still getting used to her new life in college. No annoying cling-ons. No obnoxious stepbrother. No wannabe stepmother. No reminders of what happened her senior year when her life was shot to hell. No reminders of him.

Just her scarlet letter hanging around her neck and a new crowd to rule.

This was the life.

“Bryna! Over here!” Trihn called from the bar.

Bryna fluttered her fingers at her friend and walked her way. It was strange, in a way, to have friends. In high school, she had always had Gates Hartman, her movie star ex-boyfriend, but that had crashed and burned. Otherwise she usually considered other girls as either followers or competition. With Trihn, there was none of that.

Trihnity Hamilton may be model tall and exotic with endless brown-to-blonde ombre hair, but she was the nicest, most sure-of-herself person Bryna had ever met. They had met in this very club the first week of school. Trihn had confidently commented on Bryna’s next season Christian Louboutins. After a night of shots and dancing, a friendship had blossomed.

“Look at you rocking the Chanel tonight after the big game,” Trihn said. She pulled Bryna in for a hug. “I think glitter is your color.”

Bryna laughed. “Always. Look at you in your rocker grunge.”

“Excuse me. This is designer rocker grunge,” Trihn corrected her.

She wore skin-tight black leather pants, a ripped white crop, and strappy Gucci high heels she had probably gotten when she modeled for them last year. Bryna was constantly surprised that they got along and Trihn had a real personality. She normally thought model types were dumb as bricks.

“Ahhhh!” a girl screamed, barreling into Bryna. “You look fucking hot!”

“I’m surprised you’re not still in uniform,” Bryna said.

Stacia Palmer was on the cheerleading team with Bryna. Her father was the head football coach at their biggest rival, the University of Southern California, and that would have made her the enemy, but she had come to LV State to stay out of her father’s shadow. It also explained her obsession with football players. Her reputation as a jersey-chasing whore really endeared her to Bryna. She appreciated the honesty.

“Oh, please.” Stacia flipped her bleached blonde bangs out of her eyes. “All the guys here know I’m a cheerleader. Plus, Blaine isn’t even here yet. I just made a circuit to see if I could find him.”

Blaine was the starting quarterback of the Gamblers football team. Stacia was determined to hook-up with him. Though her real goal was to marry an NFL quarterback.

“You’re ridiculous. How can you even stand college guys?” Bryna asked.

“Don’t talk to me about older guys. Blaine is a senior, Bri. That’s good enough for me.”

Bryna arched an eyebrow. “Whatever you’re into.”

“Like Eric.” Stacia sighed heavily. “I would be very into him if he was still playing.”

Bryna’s eyes wandered through the crowd of football players to where Eric Wilkins was standing. She had been very into him on her school visit here last semester, still was sometimes when she forgot the reason that they would never hook up. She was pretty sure that none of her friends and certainly no one on the football team actually knew the reason.

Eric was gay. That was why he had never tried to hook up with her on her visit and why he hadn’t talked to her since.

“I don’t think you’re his type,” Bryna said.

“Whatever. I heard the guys talking about how he dated that psychotic head case last year. What was her name?”

Bryna raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t heard anything about this. Must have been one hell of a cover story.

“Audrey,” Trihn said.

“That’s it.”

“Why did they break up?” Bryna asked.

Stacia shrugged. “Who cares? She was a crazy bitch. But now he’s on the market. So, we can all take our chance with him. What do you say, B?”