Brief Encounters_The Encounters Series by Scarlett Hopper

Author:Scarlett Hopper [Hopper, Scarlett]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-03-06T16:00:00+00:00

It’s been raining all night. The sky is an ominous shade of gray as it looms over the city, threatening to burst any minute. I guess you could say the weather is like my mood.

I’ve been staring at my untouched bowl of cereal for the past thirty minutes. The artificial colors of the round holes have begun to bleed into the milk, turning it a murky shade of pink.

The horrors of last night replay constantly in my mind, and with them, the endless stream of questions. Questions that I fail to have any answers to.

“Ellie?” The sound of Viv’s voice snaps me out of my trance. I reluctantly pull my gaze away from my soggy cereal and onto Viv.

She sucks in a breath at the sight of me, but I already know I look like shit. I feel like it too.

“Jesus, Eleanor, you’re not looking so hot. Did you get any sleep last night?” Vivian quickly sits on the stool next to me and takes my face in her hands, searching for any sign of life in me.

I try to look away, unable to take another person analyzing me. Lord knows I’ve been doing it to myself for the past six hours.

“I’m fine,” I mumble, then proceed to get off the stool and flee into the kitchen. I dump my cereal into the sink without a second thought and tell Viv I’m taking a shower.

The look on Viv’s face tells me she wants me to open up more, be honest like yesterday. But I think she knows as well as I do that it would be asking a lot. Especially considering the end result of that pep talk.

Looking in the mirror of my cold bathroom, I can see why Viv is so freaked out. I don’t look like myself. I am not myself.

I am angry.

I’m angry at Dylan for being an asshole. Angry at Jess for hurting me. But mostly I’m angry at myself for allowing that hurt to get to me.

And now I have to get ready for my English Lit class. With Jess. Even the thought of being in a classroom with him, let alone next to him, makes me feel sick.

He saw me get into the car with Dylan last night, the final blow to any remnants of a relationship we had. I can never tell him what really went down with Dylan, but I figure he doesn’t even have a right to know. He was with Tiff, so what do I have to feel guilty about?

My head is telling me that I have nothing to feel guilty about, but my heart. My fucking heart is telling me I fucked up. Big time.

Attempting to ignore my stupid heart, I spend the next hour getting ready for class, attempting to look more like a person than the corpse staring back at me. Fifty-five minutes in and I only look okay.

My auburn curls are full of the life that my face is currently lacking. Instead of my usually flushed face, I look hollowed out, almost sickly, but I don’t have the energy to focus on that right now.

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