Boarding with the Bad Boy [COMPLETE + BONUS published edition]

Turning Point

I make good on my promise to move out of MacMillan, silently packing my duffel bag and bedding in the early hours of the morning. By the time Sam comes back to the dorm from who-knows-where, I'm long gone, my things relocated to Jill's guest bedroom after sneaking in through the back door. I'm not sure how I'm going to tell Mr. Ross about this, but I'm too focused on putting one foot in front of the other to really care. I barely make it under the covers before I'm dead asleep.

I don't wake until early afternoon, when Jill climbs into the guest bed beside me, smelling like cologne and stale beer.

"You smell like Justin and booze," I whisper as she cuddles into my back.

"Well that makes sense," she whispers back. "I spent the night with both. Sorry I didn't sneak away with you."

I had sent Jill a vague text letting her know that I was heading home last night, and the mention of it jolts me fully awake and creates a knot in my stomach. I'm assaulted by the fresh memories of Brandon's hands at my shoulders and Jared's on my waist and chest. Bile rises in my throat and I scramble out of the sheets, only just getting to the room's tiny trash can before I vomit into it.

"Whoa." Jill sits up in the bed, her hair a wild mess. "Are you okay?"

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. "I don't know," I say slowly. The need to throw up still sits high in the back of my throat, and I stare at the acrid contents already in the trash, willing the rest of it out of me.

Jill's standing now, putting an arm around my shoulders. "Hangover?" She asks, sympathetic.

I think for a minute before allowing, "Something like that."

"But you drove home."

I clear my throat and glance away. "Sam drove home."

When I look back at Jill, her eyebrows are furrowed and she looks like she's about to ask a hard question before she thinks better of it. "Thank god," She mutters. "If you'd driven yourself home drunk I'd have to kill you."

I muster up a glare over my queasiness. "You know I'd never do that."

She looks slightly abashed. "I know. But as your best friend, I have to say it. And, anyway, if you're not hung over, what's going on with you?"

I shrug and close my eyes. The room around me disappears into flashes of last night and I retch again, groaning over the trash can.

"Shit," Jill says. Then again, as if she's figured something out: "Shit! You're not pregnant, right?"

I'm genuinely surprised, and before I know it I'm laughing, first a hiccupy, snorty thing, and then a deep belly laugh. My nausea subsides as I laugh harder and harder, holding my sides.

"Of course not," I say, through tears. Jill is still standing beside me, but has not joined in on my laughter and looks utterly perplexed.

"No, of course not," she says finally. "You would have told me if you'd slept with him. Still, had to ask."

I'm coming down from my high now, wondering how I went from sick to manic in such a short period of time. Maybe I really am losing it. I set the trash can on the ground and move to the bed, sitting on the edge.

"Okay, real talk," Jill says, regarding me strangely. "What's going on?"

It takes me a minute to decide that I'm not going to tell Jill what happened last night. I'm not sure it's the right choice, and I'm not sure that I won't ever tell her, but I can't stomach the conversation now. I give her a confused shrug and suggest that maybe I am hungover after all. That or I got some kind of food poisoning from the vegan cheese dip Talulah was hawking to everyone who stood still long enough. The comment gets me a burst of laughter from Jill, and though I can tell she's not fully convinced, she drops it.