Living With The Bad Boy [COMPLETE][VERSION ONE]

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?