Ecstasy

Zara

The funeral sucks.

The only good thing about it is Alex’s dad couldn’t come. Got caught up in some personal shit, Alex said.

Whatever.

The entire cheerleading squad is here and every single one of them threw shade my way when I showed up on Alex’s arm. I’ve never really fit in with them, so it’s not unexpected. Regardless, I throw it back by smirking at them, but that’s probably more because I’m high on Vyvanse and has little to do with any mean-spirited intent on my part.

I’m dressed in a long black skirt, a modest—for me anyway—black tank, and huge sunglasses over my eyes so no one sees my pinprick pupils.

But apparently, I wore the wrong color because everything here is in shades of blue and orange. Caven colors. Alex is wearing a blue tux and so is fucking Eli.

He watched over his shoulder, from the front row, as Alex and I walked through the small church, his face a careful mask of disinterest. My knees trembled as Alex and I made our way into a pew.

All I could think about is that I don’t like sharing a secret with Eli. It makes me feel physically ill.

And watching him dab at his eyes, making a show of mourning for Riha

Right now, gathered around the gravesite, behind a sea of people that turned out for Riha

Everyone is either crying, trying not to cry, or dabbing at their fake tears with tissues.

I’m hot and sweaty under the September sun and I want to push Alex into that open grave for making me come here. If he expected me to learn something out of this, he’s going to be sorely disappointed. The only thing I’ve learned is that his roommate is insane, and I didn’t need this funeral to tell me that. Him showing up at my apartment yesterday was proof enough.

Eli rubs Mrs. Martinson’s back, and then glances over his shoulder, his gaze on me. I swear to God I see a small smirk pull on his lips and now I want to kill him too.

But I wait.

I’m not that great at it, admittedly, but for this, I can do it.

And after the first spray of dirt is thrown on the casket and everyone is bawling their eyes out and Mrs. Martinson buries her head in fucking Eli Addison’s shoulder because he’s such a model student, such a quiet, smart guy that cared for her daughter, a guy that’s so distraught like everyone else over her death, he glances at me one more time to make sure I’m seeing it. And I am. Which is why I turn to Alex, stand on my tip toes, and press my mouth to his, clutching at his chest.

He’s surprised, and for a second he just stands there, not kissing me back, probably shocked by my PDA at a funeral, as if he doesn’t know I don’t have morals. But no one is behind us, and he finally opens his mouth, lets me twirl my tongue around his, and we have our first cemetery kiss while Eli watches.

Fuck you, Eli.