Montana and Natasha were inseparable. Until the day they weren't.
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Montana Belmonte-Rowe sees her acceptance into Harvard as a fresh start. Still haunted by the tragic death of...
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CHAPTER NINETEEN
HEADS WILL ROLL
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I AM TRULY AMAZING AT FEELING SORRY FOR MYSELF. That's why I'm sulking all the way through the walk back to Weld Hall, shaking under my heavy clothes, knit beanie and gloves, and why I'm trying really hard not to cry, forcing the tears to stay inside my tear-ducts. Even if they dared to escape, they'd freeze into snowflakes as soon as they touched my eyelashes, so there wouldn't be that much of a problem, but it's all thanks to a simple technicality.
I drag my feet over the snow, leaving behind a trail similar to a snail's, but I can't say I'm particularly excited about staying outside and delaying my return to my dorm room. I can't feel my legs or my lips, even if February is coming to a close and the weather definitely should be warmer by now, but, if the most I can get is a warm bed and a nice cup of hot chocolate, then so be it.
That doesn't stop me from feeling utterly miserable when I step through the door of my room. Blake, luckily for him, has dragged himself out of his own sulking, unlike yours truly, and is now entirely focused on all the studying he didn't do earlier today. I scowl, throwing my backpack to my bed, startling him in the process, but I'm not in the mood for chit-chat.
"Monty," he tries, but the glare I throw him is a good enough indicator I don't want to talk or elaborate on why I'm such in a terrible mood. I don't want to tell him my boyfriend might be dying, especially on a day with as much meaning as this one, and I certainly don't want to tell him my cousin was his best friend's psychiatrist and still beats himself up over his death, even after a year. "Hey. What's—"
"Call your best friend," I chime in, taking off my jacket and setting it on the back of the chair by my desk. The fairy lights around my bed are falling from their place, but merely looking at them is as exhausting as trying to fix them, so I let them stay where they are, jaw firmly clenched. "Show her you care and call her instead of having me do it for you."
Blake knits his dark brows together, but reaches out an arm to grab his phone. "I love your good mood." I run my bare fingers through my hair, brushing it back and wishing I had enough courage to cut it short so it wouldn't bother me as much as it currently does, and fall to my bed. "What's going on with Ave, though? Is she alright?"
