Chad’s eyes darted to mine, but I was fighting the hot ache in my throat. ‘She couldn’t find the resilience’ … that was what my brother thought of me … and I couldn’t even blame him, because I’d never been able to bring myself to tell him the truth about what had really happened. That it was less a case of not wanting to and more that I was never welcome back in that professor’s class … a class that was compulsory in order to graduate.

“I think I know which professor you’re talking about.” Chad rested an elbow on the table, all conversational, his tone empathetic. My vision blurred with the swirl of conflicting emotions. Mostly rage. “He was a real hard arse. I don’t think I could have coped with having to repeat his class. And once he’d decided you weren’t worthy of his time … it was all over for you. I don’t blame Jemma for cutting her losses.”

The absolute stinking undie stain! Furious, hurt, betrayed words zoomed up from my chest, but they all lodged in my throat, causing a blockage that made my eyes water. I tried to take a sip of coffee to calm myself, but my hands were shaking so much that I was more likely to spill it all over myself instead, so I put the cup back with a clatter.

Don’t make a scene, I told myself. Just get through this festering shit pile that is brunch, and you can vent about it to Ezra later.

Except he had something he wanted to ‘talk’ about later …

I vaguely heard Joe and Chad talking like old friends about how ‘amazing’ and ‘innovative’ and ‘groundbreaking’ Chad’s café-gallery was. If I wasn’t about to have a menty-b, I would have fake vomited into my latte.

As it stood, it would probably turn into real vomit. This place was a stock standard hipster café that served shitty coffee, food that no doubt sounded better than it tasted (and it sounded horrendous) and had Chad’s mediocre, plagiarised art plastered all over the walls. Chad was incapable of groundbreaking. He was incapable of anything remotely approaching an original idea.

I’d found that out the hard way.

“Jemma could learn a lot from your model, I think.” Joe was practically fawning over the lying, thieving, cheating poo-smear. “She still hasn’t accepted that her … art … isn’t quite …”

I stopped listening, focusing on the half-drunk latte art floating on top of my coffee. I think it had been a love heart. It looked completely mangled now. How fitting.

Heat surged behind me. Joe and Chad both looked up from their conversation about me, their faces twin expressions of shock.

A hand found my shoulder, big fingers gripping me gently. A kiss was pressed to the top of my head.

“Morning, Mouse.”

14. Ratty-Man

Chapter 14

Ratty-Man

SJ