52. own me

CHAPTER 52

OWN ME

Bailey

The air was bitterly cold, making my breath come out in little white puffs as I weaved through the quad on the way to the library. After the most dramatic hockey game of my life, attending classes like normal the following day was almost a relief.

My mind was spinning, and I was still struggling to process last night’s events. Had I really meant so little to Luke? Then again, he’d done lots of things when we were still together that were also disrespectful. Things that had been normalized at the time. Strange how one can be in the thick of such a plight and not see it for what it is.

And what about Derek’s relationship with the team after his fallout with Luke? It sounded like he wasn’t the only one sick of Luke’s shit, though. Paul was still in his corner, but not many others. Luke was captain in name only at this point.

Halfway to the library, I ducked into the student commons to use the bathroom. When I pushed open the door, my stomach twisted and I froze.

Sophie was standing at the sink, sobbing. Like, someone-died ugly-crying. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, but she was still bawling, so fixing her makeup was an exercise in futility.

After the two coffees I’d had earlier, my bladder was on the verge of exploding. But seeing Sophie was awkward enough. But crying? What should I do? Continue my mission? Find another bathroom? If she noticed me, though, turning around and leaving would look weird.

“Um, are you okay?” I asked, tentatively walking closer.

There was relationship overlap between the two of us with Luke, if not flat-out cheating. And Sophie was likely a knowing accomplice. But breaking up with Luke was the best thing that ever happened to me, and that made it hard to muster up anger right now. Plus, she looked so…sad. The dated pinkish-brown tile backdrop and dim fluorescent lighting made the whole scene extra tragic.

Sophie startled, turning to face me. “Bailey?” She placed a hand on her chest and heaved a sigh. “Oh my gosh, you scared me.”

A tear trickled down her cheek, taking her mascara with it and leaving a gray trail in its wake. Her long blond hair was perfectly curled, and her trendy outfit perfectly assembled, but her once impeccably applied makeup was now a perfect wreck.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. Are you—are you all right?”

A jagged sob slipped out before she pulled her shoulders back and cleared her throat. “You don’t have to be nice to me. I know you hate me. And you should.” She turned and dabbed at her eyes in the mirror again, working to clean up her running mascara.