Chapter 39

Dedicated to everyone reading this right now. Whether you love, hate, or anything in between this story, thank you.

Lizbeth's decided to host another of her last-minute parties today, though, as the February chill that decided to take a short vacation has returned, this one will not be taking place in the gardens. I don't know if I should feel relieved to not be forced to pretend that shrubs are a good enough cover from the words of snobby rich kids telling me I'm not enough, or apprehensive...

If they're in the house, who's to say that Jase's friends won't accidentally stumble into my room on the way to the bathrooms after one too many drinks?

I've become enough of a social pariah as it is. I don't need to throw in the homeless bit into the mix, and Jase...

God, he'd hate me for ruining his reputation.

Sometimes I wish he didn't care so much about staying on the top, caring so much about what other people think...

But the truth is, we're one and the same. Like he said, we both hide pieces of ourselves to fit into a comfortable little box in society. He's unfeeling, confident, self-centered and I'm... nothing but a small, personalityless girl when I have to be. I don't try to stand out.

He's one of the few people to see through that. And I like to think that I'm one of the few people to see through his act too.

But maybe that's just all in my head. Maybe I, like everyone else, am seeing a filtered version of Jase. Maybe he's just showing me the parts of himself that he wants me to know.

For now... all I can do is trust him.

But with betrayal seemingly around every corner right now... that's easier said than done.

Jase agreed that this was a mistake.

But before that... unless it was just my imagination, just a dream I thought up...

He said that he wanted to do it again.

I just don't know which words I should believe.

I don't know what is true at all anymore.

It's a difficult thing, getting dressed for this party. What do you wear to impress people who are hell-bent on hating you? What makeup look screams 'stop calling me a slut'? Am I supposed to be above all the comments that have been filling my brain... or do I lean into them?

No. I refuse to act like some trained monkey at the zoo. I will not put on a show for them, will not give any of the people I'm sure are waiting for me downstairs even a shadow of a reason to justify the way they've treated me- not that promiscuity would justify it. But still.

I refuse to let everyone just see me as a 'slut' who has been very, very good at pretending to not be one. Whatever that even means.

In the end, my options are somewhat limited, but I manage to find something that works- a pale pink blouse and a black pencil skirt that goes down almost to my knees.

I hate this. I hate that in my efforts to prove these people wrong, to not care what they think... I'm subjecting myself to thor judgments. Already. And I haven't even seen them yet.

It's another thirty minutes of pacing, thirty minutes of deciding if this lipstick looks too childish or this one too seductive or if I should even be wearing lipstick at all and what about natural beauty because makeup is just hiding your face and am I putting on a front if I want my lips to be pink? Am I telling a falsehood by covering up this blemish with concealer, with running a mascara wand through my eyelashes?

It's dizzying how much I care. Dizzying, and exhausting, and I get hit with a flash of guilt for feeling so, so stupid. Jo March wouldn't be concerning herself with worrying over makeup. Hermione Granger would be too busy with her nose in a book to pay attention to what anyone thought, and didn't Jane Eyre say something about being friends with yourself?

It only takes me a minute to search up said quote into Google, and the words relax me somehow. They feel like a lesson I need to have tattooed in my brain again and again, because... really? They apply to my more than I ever could've known sitting in freshman English.

"If all the world hated you, and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved you, and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends."

-- Charlotte Brontë.

Well, I wonder if Miss Brontë was ever ostracized by her entire high school, including the only two people she considered true friends, all because she allegedly slept with some guy?

Nah. I think that might be more of a Hester Prynne thing. Maybe I should just go ahead and paint a big A on my shirt for emphasis.

It's fine. I'm fine. Everything is fine, I remind myself as I close the door to my room, close the door on all the silly little choices I could be making that will only prolong the inevitable-

-At some point, I will have to go down there. I will have to face them. And apparently, I think to myself as my foot bends forward to meet the first step, that moment is now.

It's a strange feeling, a kind of power, really, to walk into a room and knowing every eye is on you, that out of what must be two dozen teenagers at least...

Not a single one knows who you truly are.

I thought I'd enjoy this more. I daydreamed as one does to break the mundanity of droning math lectures, about a day where everyone would be staring at me. Where I'd walk down a spiral staircase just like this one to have people absolutely shell-shocked.

The only difference is that in my fantasy, I'm being stared at because I just won valedictorian and I'm being presented with the award at graduation or because I was crowned prom queen or because I walked into a party looking so awe-inspiringly, breathtakingly beautiful that no one could tear themselves away from me.

I didn't think it would be because of this.

Well at least Jase isn't here yet. He's still all the way up in his room, evidently taking even longer to get ready than I did.

Oh no.

I realize a second too late that I'm coming down. As in, from upstairs. Not the entrance. And since no one knows the truth about my living situation...

It seems like I just reappeared after some sort of romantic tryst with Jase.

Great. Just abso-flippin-lutely wonderful. I could do a cartwheel.

There's nothing but deafening, ear-shattering absolute silence as I make my way down the stairs, my face almost the same color as my hair at this point as I desperately wish, for once in my life, that adults were actually here. At least then, I wouldn't have to walk into the lion's den alone, even if my only protection was a bunch of rich, privileged assholes.

But maybe the stares wouldn't be too bad if I had Jase beside me.

The thought startles me so much that my foot steps into midair, plummeting my entire body forwards and downwards until I have to learn on the banister to save myself from falling down the rest of the stairs.

Great. Oh, this party is just so, so fun already.

Needless to say, no one bothers to ask if I'm alright as I straighten myself back up, face burning against the fanned flames of a million gazes. Mercifully, I reach the bottom step without falling yet again, and though everyone's still glaring at me, at least no one's laughed yet.

And then I hear it, the word spoken so low that it could almost just be my imagination.

But it's Janine Stark who speaks, not the voice in my head.

"Whore."

And it's at that moment that the silence crescendos into one final, deafening beat before all hell breaks loose and I'm walking through a sea of voices... most of them talking about me.

I see Chrissa standing alone in a corner, watching the scene in front of her unfold, a frown on her face. She's not joining the mockery... but she's not exactly stopping it either.

Why didn't she just leave me alone if she truly hated me so much? If she thought I was sleeping with her (ex) boyfriend, then why did she go to the mall with me that day? Why help me with that whole makeover thing -- why act like she was my friend to begin with?

I don't know... and right now, I don't even want to speculate, or think about it, or even care. I'm so, so sick of caring -- so done with this whole stupid high school thing that I've somehow gotten myself wrapped up in, this incessant chess game of popularity and subtle insults, of pettiness and backstabbing and superiority complexes.

I don't know how Jase stands it.

As if my thoughts are some sort of cue, I feel the eyes that still linger on me shift slightly to my right, and I know by the way glares turn into grins that Jase must be who they're all looking at. And, as I turn around to face him...

I can see why.

He's not exactly super dressed up or anything, a blue sports coat the only thing separating this from a normal outfit of his, and yet it still feels somehow... different. His hair, which usually falls in dark, messy waves, is combed and styled impeccably, and the blue of his eyes seems brighter today, more intense. Like a flame so hot, it turns sapphire. Something in the way he carries himself is such a stark contrast from his usual laid-back aura. Today he seems almost... determined. Focused. Impassioned. His gaze doesn't search the room but rather lingers, burning its subject until nothing but smoldering ashes remain.

And that subject is me.

A/N: I'M BAAACK! did you miss me?

Like I explained in my previous update, things in my personal life have just been wild recently and finding the time or the motivation to write more has been practically nonexistent. However, I've been (very very slowly) writing this chapter over the last 3 months, and I managed to actually finish it today. Will this be the thing that sparks my return to updating regularly? I honestly don't know, but gosh does it feel good to be back. I was going to wait to post this until I'd added on a bit more, but getting TEN THOUSAND READS on this made me want to give y'all something :)

speaking of 10K, um... WHAT??? I honestly don't know how I went from 0 reads to 10K in the span of a year, but I'm just so, so grateful to all of you for getting me there. This project was really just meant to be dumb and fun and self-indulgent and definitely not lead to 40 chapters and 10K reads... so it's honestly just wild to me that this happened. Thank you all for loving LWTBB just as much as I do and being here for the ride <3

See you soon (maybe) and don't forget to follow me for more updates and announcements in the future,

-Lemon Zest