Ecstasy

Zara

“How was class?” Kylie asks me on Monday, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear and bringing the straw from her mango smoothie to her lips. “You look worried,” she adds before she takes a drink.

I throw my green backpack into the booth at Oasis, one of the little on-campus cafes. The walls are all painted Caven orange, and the place smells faintly of mildew, so it’s not my favorite, but Kylie wanted to meet for lunch today.

I had philosophy and ethics this morning, and I’m pretty sure I bombed my ancient Greek philosophy exam.

I ended up taking an Adderall to study after Eli went to sleep last night.

Instead, I stayed up until the sun rose reading Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations, which one would think would help me with the exam. Except he was Roman. Not Greek.

I slouch down in the booth as Kylie sips her smoothie, staring and waiting for me to answer her question. For a second, I think about asking her about Alex. About what Eli said. But I know Eli is just trying to start shit.

Still, thinking about him makes me feel all…warm.

Ugh.

“I think I just failed an exam,” I admit to Kylie, trying to push thoughts of Eli from my mind.

She quirks a brow and pulls her smoothie away from her mouth as she swallows it down. “Oh, no. That’s not good. What was it on?”

Considering I know Kylie is taking shit like organic chem, I don’t really want to tell her. But I do anyway: “Ancient Greek philosophy. I studied the wrong thing.” Kind of true. I knew Aurelius wouldn’t be on the exam, but I’m not about to tell her I stayed up all night texting my ex’s best friend, then ended up high in my bedroom reading Meditations.

I shrug, blow out a breath. “Anyway, it’s okay. I’ll live.”

“How’s your GPA?” she asks me, which seems like a personal question, but I realize, if my GPA was decent, it wouldn’t be.

Still. I clear my throat and sit up a little straighter, looking over her head at the checkout counter of Oasis, watching the lady at the register add whipped cream to an iced coffee. Fuck, I want that. But I’ve got to ration out the money Mom sends me. I can’t be spending it all willy-nilly on things like iced coffee when I’ve got things like illegal drugs to buy.

“It’s okay,” I answer Kylie, meeting her gaze. “Yours? You applying to pharm schools yet?”

She wraps her small hands around her plastic cup, gri

“Yeah, I’ve sent out a few applications already, but I hope I get into Caven’s program. Ian has already been accepted to the med school,” she gushes, her cheeks turning the slightest bit pink.

God, I wish I felt that way about someone too.

As if on cue, my phone vibrates in the back pocket of my jeans and I know that pattern. Kylie keeps going on about how great Caven’s pharmacy program is while I lean over and grab my phone, glancing at the screen.

Yep. Alex.

Him: I want to see you.

Him: Tonight.

Him: Now.

Him: You can’t just kiss a guy at a funeral and then ghost him. That’s pretty macabre.

I laugh a little out loud at that and then realize, belatedly, that Kylie is still going on about pharmacy schools because she trips over her words and I look up, embarrassed that I wasn’t listening.

But she’s staring at my phone with a smirk. “You and Alex made up?” she asks me, seemingly uncaring that I missed half of what she was saying. Her brow is furrowed, and she looks a little uneasy asking about him.

Again, I think about Eli’s text.

Glancing down at my screen, I wonder what to say to Alex. Maybe I should confront him and Kylie both. Or I could just tell her about what’s going on with Eli.

Yeah, no. Never mind. I can’t tell her that if she’s already talking to Alex behind my back. Besides, she probably still hasn’t gotten over the fact that I told her I blew another guy.

I clear my throat, flip my phone over, leaving Alex on read. Well, not literally. My read receipts are turned off because I’m not a psychopath.

“No, no,” I tell her, drumming my chipped black nails on the table. I’ll have to fix that shit tonight, when I’ll probably be alone and drunk watching You, or some other disturbing shit. As if my life isn’t bizarre enough. “It’s uh, just a dude from my philosophy class.” Wow. I’m turning into a full-blown liar.

Kylie waggles her brows at me. “Care to share?” she asks me, then takes another sip of her smoothie.

I feel myself blushing, but obviously not because of the non-existent guy I just made up. And I kind of do want to share. I sort of want to talk about Alex Cardi, just like I want to talk about Eli Addison. I want to tell her that something is seriously wrong with me. I wish I could tell her I’m having a hard time staying on top of my drug use again, and that I’m so scared I’ll end up alone for the rest of my life, mostly because of my own poor decision-making skills.

I wave my hand, shaking my head. “No, it’s nothing, really.”

She doesn’t look like she believes me, but she lets it go, and she even does me a favor and changes the subject. Glancing down at my nails tapping again against the table she asks, “You go

Eat? The thought kind of startles me, but I guess it is lunchtime. I haven’t had an appetite in days, between all the Adderall and the Xanax or cough syrup to knock me out when it gets too late.

The idea of eating right now is an unpleasant one. My mouth is dry, and I’m pretty sure food would taste like ash.

I shake my head raking my hand through my hair. Which needs washing.

“Oh, no. I’m not hungry.”

Kylie takes a slurp of her smoothie, but she’s eyeing me suspiciously. I don’t like it. I squirm a little in my seat and then realize that makes me look guilty as hell. My next anxious instinct is to pick up my phone and beg Alex to come save me, but that would make me look weak. Instead, I reach for a subject change.

“How long have you and Ian been dating?”

This is, apparently, the right thing to ask. They were together before I moved into the apartment, and I never bothered to ask because I’m a selfish bitch.

Kylie grins so hard my face hurts, just watching it. Her fingers flex against the plastic of her smoothie cup, and she ducks her chin, laughing a little.

It’s amusing and kind of a

Basically, I’m the tit girl.

It’s college, of course, so no one really cares all that much about who you are if you aren’t at the top of the totem pole, but still. Kylie Jones is definitely not the tit girl, even though hers are much bigger than mine, even on her small frame. She’s the future pharmacist girl. The smart girl.

Ian’s girl. More like, he’s Kylie’s boy.

“Since the end of last year,” she tells me, still cheesin’ like a fool. She props her chin on her hand and bats her lashes. “He asked me to be his girlfriend under a Christmas tree.”

That makes me think of my mother which is kind of heart-warming and obnoxious all at once. Jealous. “Oh, wow. Like, an outdoor one or a fake or…?”

She laughs, clamps a hand over her mouth then speaks through her fingers. “My parents’ tree. He asked them first. If he could date me.”