The Chances of Mary Jane Chaucer

8.5

Adrian isn't answering any of her texts or calls.

And it's unfair, Mary Jane knows, for her to be contacting him. She shouldn't have mentioned Seth, because she knows she and Adrian were going somewhere. Somewhere that wasn't just about the deal anymore. It hadn't been in a while—maybe it started in between the time after the dog park and before the arcade. Maybe a little bit after that. And Mary Jane shouldn't have mentioned him, and she doesn't know why she did at that exact moment, when both of them were vulnerable to each other, and she hates herself, and she understands why Adrian doesn't want to talk to her right now.

"You look like a kicked dog, stop it."

Mary Jane ignores Sabina and focuses on putting her earrings on.

"MJ. Seriously? It's been two—almost three days. You're going to that shitty family dinner, and I can't believe I'm saying this, you can't go with that shitty attitude."

"I messed up," Mary Jane mutters, sliding the lock of the earring in place before moving to the other ear. "I messed up so bad."

"Then apologize to him," Andy suggests softly, eyebrows drawn together in concern. "He'll understand, MJ. Just apologize and I'm sure he'll forgive you."

There's something heavy on the ginger's chest for the past two days, and it isn't a question of whether Adrian's going to forgive her or not—he will, Mary Jane knows. Adrian is kind-hearted and sweet and he's just hurt, and he has every right to be.

But it was the deal. Wasn't it?

There's something else weighing on Mary Jane's shoulders, and it feels as if it's suffocating her.

"I like him," she says, twisting around to look at her roommates in the eye. "I think I like him."

The elder rolls her eyes and cups Mary Jane's cheeks. "Then fucking tell him, dumbass. I didn't raise a coward."

"You're a year older than me."

"I didn't raise a coward," she repeats more firmly, holding the younger's face tightly in between her fingers."Get through this shitty dinner with that bitchass wrinkle-face and then go to him. Alright?"

Mary Jane snorts. "You just called my grandmother a bitchass wrinkle-face."

"I know what I called her, orange head. Come on, move it."

Estella chose the Tudor Hall Restaurant this time. Greek food.

"How's the training going?" Mary Jane's mother asks her. "Are you enjoying it?"

Instinctively, she nods. "Yeah. It's good. Dad's teaching me a lot of things."

"Then actually learn from them," Estella comments snarkily, looking at Mary Jane from behind her wine glass. "It'll all be a waste of time and effort for everyone if you don't listen to your father well."

"Maybe Faith should do some training too," Alice interjects with a wide smile, wrapping an arm around her daughter's shoulder. Faith stares at her food. "Just in case."

"Mary Jane is doing great," Samuel cuts in tiredly. "Can't we all just have a peaceful dinner for once?"

"Just in case what, Alice?" Madeline questions, arching an eyebrow, and Lord, Mary Jane is about to have another headache. "MJ is perfectly capable of handling the family business."

The brunette shrugs and reaches up to play with the expensive necklace wrapped around her neck. "Just in case she spirals down another depressive hole, Madeline, surely you understand the danger of that for our family. Faith can do a good job as well—a better job, actually."