Downright Misfits (Downright Delinquents 2.0)

Chapter Eighteen

I avoid Cora the rest of the week.

Whenever we meet eyes, I offer her a closed-mouth smile and look away as fast as I can. She hasn't tried to sit with us at lunch again, since the incident with Constance, but I'm still waiting for her to corner me in the bathroom or after class one day.

She knows I'm avoiding her and the worst thing is she seems to enjoy it.

Guilt grips my stomach like an iron-fist. I'm not dating Wren, we have had no conversation revolving around that, but I still feel like I've done the wrong thing by him. So, I've avoided him too, neglecting our gym sessions, feigning my head still hurts. He has mandatory detention after the school day ends for three weeks anyway, so it doesn't seem too obvious that I'm not around as much.

"Are you mad at me?"

I turn to Constance and say nothing.

"You are."

The coffee is placed into my hand and I look at the messy writing scribbled on top of it.

"Addy," Constance sighs. "I'm sorry."

"Not any of my business."

Her lips purse. "You don't like it."

"I don't like him," I say, facing her once more. "And I don't like that you let him get away with it." Her face falls, but my gaze doesn't soften. "It's not any of my business." I start to walk away before I pause. "But don't come to me for comfort, when he does it again."

As I stride down the hall, my resolve crumbles.

I'm a bitch. I'm a bitch. I'm a bitch.

"Hey."

A shiver spikes down my spine and I feel a little unnerved as I turn, seeing Cora beside me. Damn. I let my guard down.

"Hey."

"You're freaked out."

"No."

"Yes," she presses, her round doe-like eyes boring into mine. Pretty, pretty eyes. Just like Wren. "Why?"

"I'm not." I keep walking.

"Don't be afraid to feel how you're feeling."

"You don't know how I'm feeling," I argue.

"You don't know how you're feeling."

I exhale, a dark strand of hair falling over my eyes. "What do you want, Cora?"

"Come to my house this weekend."

"Busy."

She makes a sound of disbelief. "Busy? Doing what?"

"Stuff."

"What stuff?"

"Wren stuff."

She folds her arms across her chest and that's when I realise we've stopped walking. And we're going to be late.

Her eyes narrow, slightly. So slightly, I would have missed it if I wasn't paying such close attention.

"Wren stuff," she drawls.

"Yes."

"So, I'll make plans with Harlow then?" she quirks an eyebrow.

"I don't care what you do."

Her tongue drags across her teeth, showing her irritation. I don't budge. I casually sip my coffee, aiming for utmost nonchalance. If I were to be upset about her with Harlow, it wouldn't be for my sake, but for Constance's.