The Third Wheel

Twenty-One ~ Her Dark Side

The nightmares had never been this bad.

I’d always called Sasha whenever they got worse. She would soothe me, talk me through it. Hug me. Offer a comfort no one else could.

But something had changed between us. Something unidentifiable. Whatever bond between us that had kept us friends for so many years, despite so many issues, was quickly fraying. 

And I dreaded the inevitable moment it was going to snap.

I hadn’t heard from her since she ran off to the bathroom crying over the Facebook scandal. You know what they say: a picture says a thousand words. And that one certainly wasn't saying anything good.

I expected to feel some sort of panic that I had forgotten to call her in the desperation to get Tristan’s attention. I waited. Nothing. Then I realised; I didn't care. I didn't care if she cracked it at me, if she screamed and yelled and bullied. I couldn't give a rats furry brown ass.

The amount of problems she had caused me was ridiculous. One scandal wasn't going to ruin her entire reputation. She’d survived so many scandals it was ridiculous. She was Sasha Jennings after all. That kind of picture was something I would've expected her to boast about, not to cry over. 

The old Sasha the Slut would've tossed her hair over one shoulder with a haughty glint in her eye and made a smooth, sexual comment. Then she would've strutted off, head high like the world was at her feet.

What was so different about this incident?

Either way, I didn't want any part in it. I didn’t want to be in her shadow anymore. The Sasha Jennings I had been friends with hadn’t existed for years. I’d just held onto the remnants of the old her, in pure desperation. I didn't want the change. i didn't want to accept that I’d truly lost the Sasha I’d grown up with.

Cinderella and the Little Mermaid were long gone.

And it’d taken me years to open my eyes to it.

***

“This is ridiculous.”

My nose crinkled, as if I smelt something rotten. That’s what AP Calculus will do to you. Unconsciously I tapped my pen wildly on the open textbook beside me, eyes darting between work and the equation. This was impossible. No one should attempt calculus on a Sunday morning.

I sighed and pushed the books away, taking another sip from my black coffee. I’d sat in my car until the sun came up, scribbling away and catching up on the last few nights I hadn’t done homework. Eventually I drove around until I came across a cafe that was opened at 7:30am, luckily for me.

I was pissed off. I was angry that my feelings were still just as strong for Tristan as ever even though I knew he was begging me for help to date Sasha fricken Jennings. The girl who got every guy.

I clutched my coffee cup, eyes narrowed. She could not have Tristan. He was the one boy I would not allow her to sink her claws into. Sweet, innocent, intelligent Tristan (unless it came to women, in which case he was as dumb as a toad).

But I was pissed off at myself. I wasn’t just thinking about Tristan, the Golden Boy. My mind kept wandering into Danger Zone, replaying the events from that fateful night. 

Casanova.

How dare he steal my first kiss? How dare he invade my life like this and ruin my plans with his stormy conflicted eyes and painstakingly gorgeous rough demeanour? He was not the one I was in love with, yet I’d been stupid enough - and drunk enough - to kiss him and fool around with him in his bed.