[2022 Wattys Winner] When love cynic Madison Watson starts university, she vows to follow three simple rules.
One: Work out at least twice a week.
Two: Get an internship.
Three: Stay away from men.
But after a chance encounter with th...
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"What's the play tonight, Mads?" Dex asked, jolting me from my people-watching.
My James-and-Holly watching, specifically.
With one eye on them, and one eye on Ivy and Noah as they whispered and laughed about whatever the hell they were whispering and laughing about, I was two seconds short of giving myself a serious case of whiplash.
We were standing by the bar as we waited for the band to start their set, just another handful of friends amongst the tipsy crowd. But while everyone else was settling into the good vibes of the night, the dynamics of my effed-up friend group was giving me a migraine.
I choked on a laugh. "Don't ever call me that."
Dex poked me in the ribs, raising his cheap beer to his lips. Never in my wildest dreams would I have expected to see Derek van der Yates drinking anything cheaper than Grey Goose.
"What's with you and nicknames?"
Gosh. That was a loaded question. What was with me trying to keep other people at arm's length? Trust issues, probably.
"C'mon, Madison," he whined. "You were so optimistic yesterday on the phone."
I smiled bitterly. Everything seemed so simple the day before, when I thought that I was the puppet master, the one calling the shots. I was still whirling from my conversation with Holly, still dissecting everything she'd revealed. To think: all along, one of my puppets had been working against me. Outsmarting each one of my plays.
I watched her and James from the corner of my eye, chatting animatedly amongst themselves. She grabbed hold of his bicep, throwing her head back in an adorable giggle at something he'd said. Something smart and witty, no doubt.
My chest tightened, and I heard myself say, "Maybe this is it."
Dex's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "What's it?"
I peeled my eyes from the tipsy duo. "Sometimes things don't work out, Dex. Sometime's you like someone, but it's a case of right person, wrong time. Or wrong person, right time." Or wrong person, wrong time.
Dex continued to study me, his sweet, excited grin falling more and more. "Where's this coming from?"
"I think," another voice snarled, "that someone's feeling sorry for themselves."
The floor slipped out from under me as Ivy crept up behind us. I'd taken my eyes off of her for too long, it seemed; Noah was catching up with some of his teammates at the bar, and she'd been listening in on mine and Dex's conversation.
Dex's head was dashing back and forth between Ivy and me, question marks beaming from his wide, confused eyes. He was likely wondering how Ivy, a stranger, seemed to know what the hell we were alluding to.
Betrayal. I'd betrayed him, betrayed his trust. The anger inside me compounded—not just anger toward Holly and Ivy anymore, but toward myself, too.
Ivy laughed, the sound so obviously fake that I wondered how Dex couldn't have picked up on it. "Oh, sweetheart. Don't worry." She threw me a wink—which did nothing to redirect the rage boiling my blood. "I'm as good a wingwoman as Madi is. You're in good hands."
