Vanessa went back to class the following week.
Juggling two jobs at the same time was hard work, but she had to suck it up and handle it, or else she won't be able to pay her bills and keep a roof under her head.
And to top it all off, her car's air conditioner got broken and her tires were wearing out. Thinking about all these expenses amped up her stress levels. Vanessa heaved a sigh before entering her wretched Literature class.
She didn't really mind the hateful stares and disgusted noises they made to annoy the hell out of her—she'd been around these kinds of people for too long; so she usually managed to tune out their uninteresting opinions—but what kept her on edge all the time was the fact that he shared the same Literature class as her.
He was there when she entered the classroom. Of course, he was still sitting on her spot, and almost immediately, she wanted to yell at him, to tell him to get lost and find another vacant seat because it was hers, but she didn't—she just couldn't.
It was a well-known fact that Vanessa Dawson was a hot-tempered, impulsive bitch who never hesitated to flip someone off or slap someone if they messed with her or annoyed her constantly.
But ever since he came along, she suddenly felt helpless and vulnerable whenever he was there—an exasperating feeling that she absolutely hated—as if she were starting to slowly rebuild her fallen kingdom that was unexpectedly reduced to filthy ashes all over again.
She stared at her old seat—the one Tristan was sitting on—for one quick moment, narrowing her eyes at the guy who stole it from her.
She didn't expect to find out that he and Nic were cousins; the only type of connection she thought they had was some sort of weird predilection to annoy the fuck out of her.
Then again, Nic had a mop of messy red curls while he had lusciously disheveled blonde hair. The two of them being related by blood wasn't much of an obvious thing that people easily figured out—Nic didn't even mention him to her before. And she never bothered to ask him about personal shit, anyway.
Acknowledging him by his first name still made her feel like she wanted to punch something. It was weirdly infuriating, to be honest.
When Mr. Henri saw her at class, he didn't hesitate to point out her absences last week.
"Your grades will go downhill if you keep skipping my class, Vanessa," he said, shaking his head in disappointment. She didn't fail to notice that everyone in the class whispered how they badly wanted her to flunk her subjects.
From her peripheral vision, she saw Tristan frown deeply, a displeased expression marring his sculpted face.
"I'll do what I can to pass your subject, sir," Vanessa replied, trying hard not to hiss at her professor.
Ever since the accident happened, almost all of the people who were close friends with her twin sister became terribly antagonistic towards her; they even blamed her for killing Veronica on purpose because, according to them, she was "a jealous bitch who wanted to steal her sister's spotlight".
She wasn't surprised that they had blamed her for Veronica's untimely demise, because they were absolutely right. It was all her fault. She couldn't save her sister. And it was going to haunt her everyday, for the rest of her miserable life.
Most of her professors, who preferred to be ignorant and act as if she were another unimportant gnat roaming the halls and attending their classes, pissed her off just as much.
Contrary to what most people chose to believe, though, was the fact that she never had any intention of harming her sister. She loved Veronica. Even more than she loved herself, really.
If she were able to travel back in time to prevent the accident from happening, or insist on taking the wheel more forcefully from Veronica... she would've done it in a heartbeat. Without hesitation, without any kind of second thoughts. She would do absolutely anything to make sure her sister was safe, to keep her alive.
Heck, she would even peg Hercules if it were a possible option—going to the Underworld and jumping into the Styx to free her sister's soul in exchange for her own life.
Vanessa closed her eyes and rubbed her temples for a moment. Mr. Henri subtly hinting at her failing his class was enough to give her a migraine. But getting unreasonably emotional in public wasn't her thing.
She refused to let these demon spawns see her shed a single tear over her pathetic excuse of a professor. They've had their fun before. Not this time. Not again.
After counting to ten in her head, Vanessa opened her eyes again and forced herself to listen to whatever Mr. Henri was going to discuss to the class. It was probably going to be something basic, something easy to analyze—he practically worshipped classic novels but in her opinion, he sucked at teaching it.
Her AP English teacher was so much better at it than he was, really. Well, to be fair, she was sort of thankful for having such a boring—and sometimes lazy—Literature professor. Mr. Henri's exams and quizzes weren't even that difficult to pass. At least she was sure of getting at least an eighty or eighty-five in his subject.
"Just make sure you'll make good on your promise, Vanessa." Mr. Henri warned, making sure the whole class heard him. A few people in front of her didn't even bother to contain their mocking snickers.
"I will, sir." Vanessa answered and looked at him square in the eyes, her voice calm yet confident at the same time.
"You've missed a few of our lectures," he haughtily pointed out, his mouth almost turning up into a sneer. Mr. Henri was about to continue his scolding when he suddenly raised his hand. Arching his bushy eyebrow, Mr. Henri nodded at Tristan, letting his student speak.
"I've taken down extra notes, Mr. Henri," Tristan said. He held up his binder and wiggled it a bit. "Every lecture she missed is in here, sir. I took the liberty of doing it for her since nobody in this class"—he paused, glancing at his classmates for a quick moment—"would do it voluntarily."
Upon hearing those words, Vanessa gasped in her seat, her brown eyes wide with disbelief, her mind a tornado of unspoken questions. What was he doing? Why the hell was he embarrassing her like this? She never asked for anybody's help, for crissakes! He was making her look weak in front of the whole class, damn it!
She could hear it, their disapproving whispers and scornful stares, incessantly burning painful holes right through her. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists in her lap, berating herself for letting their negativity get to her, for letting her self-control dissipate in a moment of temporary weakness.
"I see," Mr. Henri said tersely, pushing his thick eyeglasses against the bridge of nose and crossing his arms. He ignored the continuous murmurs of students who were clearly affected by Tristan standing up to them. A beat passed, then he went on with his lecture again, as if nothing happened.
Vanessa bolted out of the room once she heard the bell ring. She needed to get out of there fast, or else she was going to end up banging a certain blonde-haired boy's head against the wall.
In order to calm herself down, she mentally counted to ten again as she breezed past through the throng of jabbering students making their way in and out of their respective classrooms. She shoved her hands inside the pockets of her black hoodie, clenching and unclenching them in another attempt to prevent herself from losing her shit while on campus.
She even tried thinking of song titles to distract herself, and eventually, she ended up humming the soft tune of Fur Elise, one of Veronica's favorite classical pieces.
She was almost finished with the first verse when she heard his voice calling out her name in the distance.
"Vanessa!" Tristan shouted, his voice loud enough for other people to hear. She picked up the pace to try and escape him, but not too much so as to not attract attention. Too bad she and Tristan were on different pages. "Hey, Vanessa!" he called out, louder this time.
"Damn it," she cursed under her breath, "his persistence is fucking annoying!" She didn't want to do it, but he was pushing her buttons—and in that moment, her pent-up frustrations of him flooded her distressed thoughts, compelling her to blatantly call him out on his aggravating attitude.
She swiftly turned on her heels to face him, her mahogany eyes burning with undeterred fury. She felt hot all over, her pale fingers trembling. One wrong move from him, and she won't hesitate to knock him out in public. To hell with her permanent records, she just couldn't take his intrusive actions anymore.
"What do you fucking want from me, huh?" Vanessa screeched, unabashed with her rash decision to humiliate him—and herself—in front of the whole student body.
Tristan abruptly stopped on his tracks, taken aback by her sudden outburst. His sapphire eyes stared at her longer than they should have, a perplexed expression painted on his face. "Vanessa," he murmured softly, his voice calm; tolerant. "I don't understand why you're so angry. I—"
"Oh, shut up," Vanessa scoffed, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You've been pestering me ever since you stepped foot in that wretched Literature class. What, are you some kind of weird sicko who gets off to stalking people?"
Tristan gasped, his eyes widening in disbelief, his blonde eyebrows scrunching up in confusion, his whole face turning into a deep shade of red.
"That's ridiculous," he frowned deeply and shook his head. "I swear, Vanessa, I'm not doing anything wrong." He held his hands up in surrender, there was no hint of mockery in his voice. It ticked her off even more; the innocent look in his face was making it harder for her to be pissed at him.
Especially those damn eyes. Those ocean blue eyes that held her in place and looked at her as if she were a prized possession from the National Museum. It unnerved her.
But her stubborn pride refused to back down that easily.
"Of course you're not," she drawled out sarcastically, withdrawing her hand and placing it on her hip instead, her brown eyes oozing with disdain. "I guess you're one of those creepy stalkers, huh?" She wrinkled her nose in disgust and faked a wince. "Too bad you're not going to get anything from me, asshole."
"I'm not that kind of guy, I swear—" Tristan sounded like he was losing his cool already, but he was still trying to remain calm. He didn't get to finish what he was saying because she was already in front of him, looking at him dead in the eye, just like what she did to Mr. Henri in class.
Around them, people gasped in horror. Most of them cursed at her, letting her know how evil they thought of her. Too bad she didn't care about whatever bullshit they said to her anymore.
Let them revel in their fallacious beliefs, she chanted in her mind. It was better this way, knowing that everyone wanted to tear her apart. Let them be consumed with their undeniable fear and hatred towards you. You deserve it; you deserve to be shamed and loathed. You'll be in control of your emotional turmoil again if you keep pushing them to hate you more.
What she was trying to accomplish was fucked up, she knew that from the start. It was the only viable option she had if she wanted to survive in this sadistic hellhole veiled by tall buildings, long hallways, and chattering students.
"You don't know who I am and what I'm capable of," Vanessa threatened, her voice low and menacing. Tristan blinked twice. "Stay the fuck away from me, if you know what's good for you." She glared at him one last time before turning on her heel and walking towards the direction of the parking lot.
The relief that she felt from making herself clear and saying what she wanted to say was short-lived. Because moments after she walked away from him, he suddenly grabbed her by the wrist, forcing her to turn back around.
This was the first time she has seen him up close, the first time she has ever locked into his ocean-deep gaze, as if her soul was penetrated by his effervescent rays of sincerity—not knowing if she felt mocked by the way his fire deluged her ice.
"Vanessa," he implored, his voice calm and soothing, as if he was taming a cornered wild animal. "Hear me out, please."
She was enthralled by depths of his eyes once more—those ocean blue eyes that made her feel unreasonably incandescent, made her want to crash against its waves and drown, never to resurface again.
It felt like a lifetime had passed before she finally managed to snap out of her stupor.
They were still looking into each other's eyes, still standing at the same open space. He was waiting patiently for her response, his face filled with quiet apprehension.
Panic suddenly emerged in her throat, incapacitating her capability to speak. She wanted to say something, to express how frightened, how overwhelmed she was with everything he did to get close to her.
She couldn't find the right words to say. In that moment, all she wanted to do was break free from his grasp and run away. She didn't want to admit it, but she just couldn't handle his tremendous persistence. It was too much.
What she did next was the easy way out.
She yanked her hand away from his grip as hard as she could, and then she slapped him. She needed to get away from here—from him—as soon as possible.
A shock of pure disbelief flashed through Tristan's face, his blue eyes wide, his mouth agape.
Putting on her usual poker face, Vanessa pressed her lips into a tight line, and flipped him the finger before bolting out of the scene.
This time, she walked faster and didn't look back.
~
Memories of her encounter with Tristan a few days ago was still burned into her brain.
What happened out there had been a close call; if she hadn't slapped him in the face, she probably would've ended up crumbling in front of him, in front of the whole school—giving them the satisfaction of seeing her become weak.
Never, she promised herself.
She had just come out of Veronica's room—she confessed her fears and repressed feelings as she talked to her twin sister's picture, clutching it tightly to her chest and crying endless tears again.
That face off was something she should have tried to avoid as much as possible, but Tristan's actions were always unexpected, and she was never an avid fan of surprises.
After staying in that room for an hour and a half, she made her way back to her room and plopped on her bed, sighing deeply as she stared at the ceiling, her arms and legs sprawled out.
Today had been uneventful as usual. Her shift at the coffee shop was tolerable; since it was Kayla's day off, her stress levels were somewhat reduced, and Nic's unusual quietness was also why she wasn't on edge that much.
It was strange, not seeing him all cheerful and smiley, but she didn't think of it too much because might jinx it.
Sure, there were some people who frowned in disappointment when they saw her at the counter, but at least they weren't downright assholes earlier.
And because she still wasn't very keen on seeing Tristan, she skipped classes again. She was going to let herself cool down first; making another scene at school was a bad idea, since there was a huge possibility that she would cave and give in to her initial instinct, which was knocking him out with her fist.
Vanessa heaved a sigh. She was genuinely exhausted. Not from work, but from thinking about what he was planning to do next. Anticipating the worst was better than hoping for the best, after all.
At times like these, she was slightly thankful for being so stressed, honestly. Her eyelids were already drooping, her muscles were loosening up, and her thoughts were slowly dissipating into nothingness.
She was on the verge of falling asleep when her phone rang, instantly jolting her awake.
"Shit," Vanessa cursed under her breath. Whoever interrupted her sleep better be ready for an earful when they cross paths.
Frowning, she lazily reached out to her nightstand to fetch her phone. She didn't bother looking at the caller ID, she immediately pressed it against her ear and muttered, "Yeah?"
"Oh, shit. Did I call at a bad time, Vanessa? Are you busy today?" Her other manager, Dorothy, said from the other line, her voice sounded apologetic.
"No, it's fine, Dorothy," she replied, turning away from her phone for a moment to clear her throat. "I wasn't really doing anything important when you called." As quickly as she could, she let out a yawn before talking to Dorothy again. "What's up?"
"I was actually going to ask you a favor."
"Shoot."
"We're low on waitresses today," Dorothy admitted sullenly. "Can you make it later? Like, twenty minutes after we hang up? Don't worry, I'll make sure this extra day is counted in your paycheck."
Oh. So that's why she was calling. Dorothy wasn't one of those people who shunned her continuously even outside the school premises. Dorothy was middle-aged woman who was actually a lot like Jack—she was kind enough to accept her resume when she applied for a second job, and even though she was aware of Vanessa's shameful past, she let her keep her job for a year now.
She knew how Dorothy was nervous of her presence, how she wasn't always her bubbly self during the weekends, which was Vanessa's usual shift. But nevertheless, she was never mean and snubby with Vanessa. And she was grateful for it.
"Yeah, sure," Vanessa nodded to herself, getting out of bed and scratching her sleepy eyes with the back of her hand. "I'll be there."
"Thanks a lot," Dorothy said, her voice sounded absolutely relieved. Vanessa could even picture her smiling on the other line.
"Sure."
After the call, Vanessa placed her phone back on top of her nightstand and slipped out of bed. She stretched her arms as high as she could, shaking off the sleepiness still lingering in her bones, and then she went straight to the bathroom to clean herself up before going to work.
~
Dottie's Diner was a far cry from Books and Brews. It had more of an aesthetic retro vibe, which Vanessa thought was interesting.
Its walls were painted in a delightful shade of ivory that boasted several polaroids of their regular customers' selfies, football games, and karaoke sessions, baby pink and sky blue booths alternately crowded up checkered floor, and various bottles of alcohol aligned on the shelves around the bar.
Instead of the aromatic smell of vanilla and coffee beans she was familiar with, she welcomed the savory mix of grease and hash browns lingering in the air when she stepped inside the diner.
"Vanessa!" Dorothy beamed and immediately left her post at the counter, her short blonde curls swaying from side to side as she ran towards the front entrance. Disregarding whether to enter at the front or the back of the diner was something Vanessa found comforting.
Dorothy almost enveloped Vanessa into a tight hug but she restrained herself from doing so. She smiled widely. "Thank you so much for coming."
"No problem," Vanessa said, letting out a small smile of her own. She looked around and immediately noticed the sheer volume of people.
Judging from the bustling atmosphere of the diner, she quietly assumed that Dorothy needed at least three waitresses today instead of the usual two.
"Whose shift is it today?" she asked her blonde manager.
"Sophie's here but Liv called in sick two hours ago," Dorothy's face fell. "I thought we could handle it on our own, but... well, apparently, we were wrong."
"Don't worry," Vanessa said reassuringly. She silently hoped she looked convincing enough, though. "We've got this."
"Well, look what we have here," Phil hollered, poking his head out of the window behind the counter. "Aren't you a little early for Saturday, Vanessa?" She fought back the urge to raise her middle finger at him, the nasty smile he flashed her was ticking her off.
Then again, he always smiled like that to everyone—but there was something about him that Vanessa found unsettling.
"Yeah," Vanessa said, shrugging him off. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and slipped on the apron Dorothy handed her before trotting off inside the kitchen, she was probably going to help him clean up the dishes.
Manning the counter was never a difficult task for her, despite her awkward social skills and most people's disapproval of her existence. The irony of her everyday situation made her snort.
"Glad to see you in advance, dollface," Phil muttered under his breath, only loud enough for her to hear.
Vanessa turned her head slightly to face him, to let him know that she heard what he said. She narrowed her eyes at him before turning her attention back to the customer standing in front of her and scanning the menu.
At least the staff knew how she disliked most people in genreal—it was a good excuse for her to express her annoyance towards Phil.
One of these days, she promised herself, I'm going to get a clean one in his face, and I definitely won't regret doing it.
Two hours into her so-called shift, a familiar face entered the diner, catching her off guard.
Kayla came in, looking more carefree than usual. She was wearing a red, skin-tight top that was shaped like a corset, black leggings, and matching red flats. Her long blonde hair cascaded smoothly down her shoulders in thick waves, her blue eyes looked sharper and more defined because of her sleek eyeliner, and of course, her lips were a sultry shade of red.
It took her a while to figure out, but then Vanessa saw why her blonde coworker was so ravishingly vibrant today—a good-looking guy was with her, grinning down at her and laughing along to whatever they were talking about.
Apparently, Kayla was on a date.
Great. Kayla was finally going to find out that she had another job, and she was probably going to ask her about this when they get back to Books and Brews.
And the worst part of realizing this was the fact that there was a huge chance that Kayla was going practically investigate why she had a second job.
There was no doubt that she would go to such lengths; that blonde girl was as intrusive and annoying as him.
The thought of Kayla and Tristan being in cahoots made her shiver. It was going to be the end of her if they teamed up and helped each other out. If it were to happen, she may have to evacuate before graduating college.
How troublesome.
Kayla's china blue eyes widened when their gazes met. She tilted her head and furrowed her eyebrows, scrutinizing the person at the counter.
Vanessa rolled her eyes. She wasn't in the mood for Kayla's dramatic episodes today. "Yeah, it's me," she sighed, pointing to her nametag. "What can I get for you guys today?"
The guy whose arm was wrapped around Kayla's shoulder whispered something to her ear before walking away from the counter to find a table.
"You work two jobs, huh?" Kayla looked impressed, but there was some kind of underlying sympathy in her words. Vanessa restrained herself from lashing out on the blonde vixen in front of her; today, she was a customer, not an obnoxious employee at Books and Brews.
"I do," Vanessa answered patiently, trying her best to sound pleasant enough for her customer but still professional. She looked at Kayla expectantly, who was tediously scanning the menu.
She didn't know what kind of food or drink Kayla ordered outside of the coffee shop, especially on occasions like this. A date.
She fought back a cringe. This was her first time seeing Kayla out with a guy—with an entirely different person other than the staff at Books and Brews. She didn't know why, but... she felt weirdly awkward about it.
"I'll have two orders of large fries, two submarines, a cherry soda, and a classic milkshake, please." Kayla smiled sweetly at her, and it was almost enough to make the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end.
I guess going out on a date softens up people, Vanessa speculated. Even an obnoxious one like Kayla. It's weird, though, seeing her all sickly sweet to me. It's more disturbing than her usual behavior.
"That'll be twenty-one dollars and seventy cents," Vanessa said. Kayla handed her thirty dollars and told her to keep the change. She shook her head and insisted to give Kayla's change back, though—they weren't at the coffee shop, for crissakes.
"Keep it, it's yours," Kayla whispered, winking conspiratorially. "I don't know anyone in here, so it's only natural for me to give all of it to you." She flashed another saccharine smile, and for a moment, Vanessa thought that she was making fun of her, but there was no hint mockery in her eyes. Her smile showed sincere generosity.
She handed the blonde girl a number, then Kayla waved her goodbye before turning on her heel to look for the booth her date was sitting at.
Vanessa rang up Kayla's order and assisted other customers while waiting for Phil to finish preparing the food.
Minutes later, she walked over to Kayla's table.
"Two submarines," Vanessa said, carefully placing the plates of sandwiches in front of them. Then, their drinks came in next, and lastly, their large fries. "Please don't hesitate to call if you need anything," she reminded them.
"Thanks a lot!" Kayla grinned brilliantly, the slight change in her usual behavior towards her brunette coworker kind of ticked Vanessa off, but she decided to let it slide. She silently blamed their date for the cringey vibe she was getting from Kayla. Well, at least she wasn't making any kind of conscious effort to embarrass herself while on a date.
"Your customer service skills are on point, as always," Kayla added, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled. She was about to formally introduce her date to Vanessa, but he beat her to the punch.
"Hey, I know you," he stated, his voice sounded confused and serious at the same time. "You look familiar," he added, then took a small sip of his milkshake.
Vanessa was itching to get out of their sight to finally take her first break, but the guy kept talking to her instead of Kayla. It was incredibly annoying.
"Of course she is," Kayla snorted and rolled her eyes, popping a large french fry inside her mouth. "She attends the same university, Jeff. Duh."
"I know that," Jeff retorted, a frown settling on his lips as he sliced his sandwich carefully, then he suddenly pointed his fork towards her direction.
The corners of his mouth twisted up into a sneer. "Oh, right! You're that girl! Sorry, I didn't mean to forget who you are. A crazy person like you can't be erased in people's memories that easily, you know?" He placed his knife and fork beside his plate and crossed his arms.
"Damn," Jeff scrunched up his eyebrows nastily; suggestively. He even ignored the blonde girl sitting across from him. "How'd you manage to get out of your asylum, huh? Do you know some crazy technique with picking locks and shit?"
His question struck a nerve. Vanessa pressed her lips into a tight line and forced herself to think about classical songs again. Her mind screamed at her to get out of there, get the fuck out of there, damn it, but her feet were too heavy, her vision was starting to become blurry.
"Jeff," Kayla said in a scolding tone, "stop it. It's not funny."
"But I'm not even making fun of her," Jeff retorted, still looking at Vanessa with amused eyes. "I was just asking a question, sweetheart. I'm very eager to know how a murderer's mind works—it'll be easier to anticipate criminal-related shit if we ask questions from someone who's experienced it first hand."
Vanessa hated how mocking his voice was. How he emphasized those vile words in front of her face. It made her blood boil and her fingers shake, waves of unadulterated hatred for the revolting bastard consumed her swiftly. She was itching to pull the hair on his head as tight as she could and slam his face against the table.
"I'm not a crazy murderer," Vanessa mumbled quietly, her voice cold and dangerous.
"Jeff, stop being an idiot," Kayla glared at the boy sitting across from him. "I mean it." He just looked right through her, unaffected by her effort to intimidate him.
"Yes you are," Jeff seethed, emphasizing each word slowly, clearly entertained that Vanessa was denying her involvement in the accident that had happened. Seeing her getting all riled up with just a few words excited him in some weird, twisted way.
It disgusted her.
Oh, how she wanted to land her knee against his groin right now. Watching him writhe in pain would be so satisfying... but was her job worth such a reckless impulse?
In a split second, she finally decided to at least say something to him, to make him shut up.
But then, something unexpected happened.
"You son of a bitch," Kayla growled suddenly, surprising both him and Vanessa. She stood up from her seat and grabbed his milkshake, pouring it all over his head.
"What the fuck, Kayla?!" Jeff shouted angrily, trying to shake off the liquid that oozed down to his neck and shoulders. Some of the customers turned their heads to face their booth, a mix of curiosity and shock flashing through their faces. "You ruined my shirt!"
Vanessa was beyond shocked. She honestly didn't expect Kayla to lash out on him like that. Especially since they were on a date. Why the hell did she even do that?
Sure, the guy was an asshole and the words that slipped out of his stung, but his insults weren't that offensive, really. There had been a handful of people who told her more hurtful things than he did.
For a long time, she was the one to step in between Veronica and her haters. Being one of the popular kids at school didn't always mean rainbows and hearts; there were several instances wherein a particular clique tried to take the higher-ups' crowns. And it was never a pretty sight.
Veronica had a lot of competition back then, and most of them tried to pick fights with her at the hallways or at the cafeteria, but no matter how much she wanted to claw out another girl's eyes out of her face, Vanessa stepped in and dealt with the opposing side all the time.
Well, Veronica didn't like it at first, but eventually, she gave in because she knew how Vanessa cared so much for her safety.
Vanessa always stood up for her, always defended her. She honestly didn't mind becoming her twin sister's knight in shining armor.
It never occurred to her that she would be in need of any kind of help or defense. For years, she stood up for herself on her own and didn't need to be saved.
Vanessa still didn't want or need to be saved from anyone, really. Seeing Kayla voluntarily defend her, in front of all these people, it made her chest feel tight with an emotion she couldn't quite decipher.
"That's for insulting my best friend," Kayla said, glaring down at Jeff with disdainful eyes.
"I didn't even know she was your fucking friend—"
Jeff didn't get to finish his sentence because Kayla slapped him in the face. "And that's for being a shitty date, asshole," Kayla spat, her red lips frowning. "I can't believe I wasted my evening with you!"
"Yeah? Well, you're a bitch—"
Vanessa watched Kayla examine her manicured fingers and toss her long blonde hair to the side, a dramatic sigh escaping her lips. "Thanks for stating the obvious, dumbass," she said sarcastically. "Now get the fuck out of here."
It was her queue to step up.
"Sorry for the inconvenience," Vanessa muttered under her breath as she ushered him out of the diner, trying to repress the sarcasm that wanted to slip out of her lips.
"Whatever, crazy freak," Jeff grumbled, taking off his shirt to wipe his wet and sticky arms. It didn't him take too long to leave the diner completely.
When Vanessa came back inside, she tried to look for Kayla but was nowhere to be seen.
"What happened over here?" Dorothy asked her immediately. She looked pointedly at the booth Kayla and Jeff used, which had barely finished food and a small pond of milkshake.
"Uh," Vanessa tried to think of an excuse that was good enough for Dorothy. It wasn't her first time seeing a couple fight here at the diner, but today was different—the other half of the couple that fought was someone she knew. "Well..." she trailed off for a moment, still unsure of what to tell her manager.
Vanessa was certain that Dorothy wouldn't mind if she told her that she knew why the fight started. It would be a bit self-deprecating, though.
"Oh, are you the manager?" Kayla asked out of the blue as she wiped her hands with tissues. "Sorry, I had to powder my nose for a bit."
"Yes, ma'am," Dorothy answered enthusiastically.
"I'm sorry about the mess—the guy I was with was complete douchebag," Kayla admitted, smiling apologetically at the middle-aged manager.
"It's alright," Dorothy replied, walking over to where Vanessa was standing and patting her shoulder reassuringly. "Would you mind taking care of this?"
"No, of course not," Vanessa shook her head and immediately went to the supply closet to get a mop. When she got back, Kayla was still talking Dorothy, but they sat at a booth now. She mopped the checkered floors first before proceeding to finish cleaning the tables.
Once she was done, Vanessa went to the employee's bathroom to wash her hands. For a moment, she leaned against the sink and closed her eyes, recalling the weird turn of events today.
Kayla reacting that way because someone insulted her was baffling. Vanessa knew for a fact that she wasn't that nice to Kayla at all—in fact, she was more of a heartless bitch than an effective coworker. Not to mention all those times she had blatantly expressed how much of a nuisance Kayla was.
Now I know what the weird feeling was burning in my chest earlier, Vanessa sighed deeply. I feel... indebted to her. Fuck.
Being indebted to someone was one of the things she wasn't particularly fond of. After today, she knew that it wasn't going to be more awkward working with Kayla at the coffee shop.
She didn't like being indebted to someone. It only proved that she couldn't be alone, that she couldn't accomplish even the simplest things on her own. It made her feel weak, made her feel like she was on the verge of hoping again. And being too hopeful was never a good thing.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and counted to ten to calm her thoughts once more before exiting the bathroom.
"Vanessa," Dorothy said, "that blonde girl wants to talk to you outside." She gave her a small smile. "You're on break now, right?"
"Uh... yeah." Vanessa nodded stiffly. She thought Kayla already left, but she didn't yet, apparently. And what the hell did she want to talk about now? Did she seriously want to remind Vanessa of the fact that she was indebted to her? Was she going to make her a slave or something?
Dorothy told her that Kayla was probably waiting for her at the smoking area, so that's where she went. She expected the smoking area to be crowded with people, but she was wrong again—there were only two people holding cigarettes against their lips, a bald guy wearing neon green headphones and then there was Kayla.
Kayla blew out a puff of smoke and sighed as she stared at the ground with scrunched up eyebrows, still unaware of Vanessa standing there in front of her. For a quick moment, Vanessa wondered what could have been mind-boggling enough to make Kayla frown deeply like that.
And then that thought vanished almost immediately, she wasn't here to stare at her all day. She had work to do after talking to Kayla. It wasn't the time for dawdling.
"Kayla," Vanessa called out, and the aforementioned blonde girl quickly snapped out of her thoughts, a lazy smile lingering on her roaring red lips.
"Vanessa, hey," Kayla greeted her happily, taking one last drag out of her cigarette stick before throwing it away in the trash bin. She produced a pack of gum from the purse that was tucked under her arm and held it out to her. "Want some gum? It's strawberry."
"No, thank you," she declined the offer and shook her head. Kayla shrugged her shoulders, then she popped the strawberry gum inside her mouth. Vanessa noticed that she didn't chew her gum sloppily like other people did. She was a bit relieved of this fact, noisy gum chewers were one of her pet peeves, too.
"Jeff was a fucking moron," Kayla declared, breaking the ice first. She flinched dramatically and shook her head in obvious disgust. "I'm sorry you had to hear those awful words he said, V."
"No, it's alright," Vanessa waved her off, she didn't want to hear the pity in Kayla's voice anymore. "I've heard worse, honestly. Don't worry about it."
The guy wearing neon green headphones threw away his stick in the trash bin and left the smoking area.
"It's not alright," Kayla said through gritted teeth, and when she looked up at Vanessa, her blue eyes were a mix of sadness and frustration. "Nobody deserves to be treated like that," she mumbled, her voice as soft as a feather. "It's not fair."
"Life is always fucking unfair," Vanessa couldn't help but snort at the blonde girl's slight rant. Although, she had to admit, seeing Kayla like this was something new to her. She didn't even know that Kayla was capable of expressing intensely grim emotions like this.
Maybe we're alike in some ways, she thought. It's weird... but at least now I know that she's a complete airhead.
"You're right," Kayla snorted, too. She smiled sarcastically. "Life fucks us up and makes us insane. It's a never ending cycle. It's up to us whether or not we choose to dwell in its wretched madness."
"When the fuck have you turned poetic, huh?" Vanessa smirked. It was highly amusing, hearing Kayla rant about these kinda of things. It was almost enough to make her laugh. And that was saying something, because it had been a while since she genuinely laughed at something someone said out loud.
"I've always been fucking poetic," Kayla frowned a little, but the same sparkle of amusement was evident in her cerulean eyes. "You're just too blind and ignorant, V."
Okay, that was it. Vanessa had to laugh at how sarcastic and entertaining Kayla was. She just couldn't help it anymore. She wasn't going to admit it out loud, but smiling and laughing relaxed her. It was a breath of fresh air, really. Even just for a little while.
She didn't know Kayla was staring at her in disbelief, but quickly recovered.
"Anyway," Kayla said, clearing her throat. "Jeff deserved that slap. I think I should've punched him, though."
"If I wasn't working, I definitely would have," Vanessa admitted.
"He's an insensitive asshole who doesn't know shit about empathy," Kayla muttered, then she walked over to where Vanessa was and gently patted her shoulder. "I meant what I said earlier, okay?"
She scrunched up her eyebrows in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"About you being my best friend," Kayla said softly. She smiled brilliantly at her flustered friend. "Don't get all surprised when I say that out loud, alright? Because it's true."
"What—" Vanessa didn't get to finish her sentence because Kayla already waved goodbye and walked out of the smoking area.