5 Ways to Ruin Casey Brandt

n i n e

♡ BRIAR ♡

If I was a worse person I would've left him there.

No one could blame me, right? He took my life—my entire freshman year—and mashed it into a terrible mess only Casey Brandt can manage to create. I can't get rid of him, either. He keeps showing up everywhere like a hanging threat. A wave threatening to crash into my life again, to leave me to swim to shore and piece it all back together. Then, he had the audacity to ruin my night.

But I let myself feel guilty for attacking him the way people have attacked me. Convinced myself it was the only way to push him away and make myself feel better in the process. I spewed some harsh insults at him after class and as much as I do hate him, in every single way I can, I'm not sure I can justify it.

So, I let Casey Brandt sleep on my roommate's second hand couch and ignored the urge to throw him onto the street.

I wake up this morning with more than a few regrets. One, I wish I had been the one to punch him. Two, I should've left him for the police to take care of.

The living room is empty when I finally muster up to courage to leave the sanctity of my room. The couch pillow I'd thrown at him is propped on top of the folded mustard throw Demi usually has draped across the chair. Casey is nowhere to be seen. The relief blooms in my chest. Hopefully that'll be the last time I see him. I'll move my seat in class and work enough shifts for my own textbook, and, forget he exists. Or convince myself that I have.

I decide to treat today as a new day. I'm going to go back to the original plan, the one that didn't include anything to do with him. I have more important things to worry about today. It's already nine by the time I begin making breakfast. Demi, who's chronically not online and has yet to comment on my resemblance to the girl in the video, is long gone. She's usually up at an ungodly hour drinking warm lemon water and strapping on her running sneakers.

I'm sitting down to eat when the lock turns. Demi smiles brightly.

"Good Morning, Briar!" She greets me cheerily, thrusting a book in my direction.

Due to Demi being an avid runner, I have to witness her runner high every morning, which tends to make me feel terrible about my non-exercising self for the rest of the day. I swallow my mouthful of sugary cereal.

I furrow my brows at the glossy cover. The same textbook Casey ruined, minus the coffee. Demi smiles again, then makes her way to the kitchen. Though I try to keep Demi and her insistent friendship at bay, I caved and told her everything when I got home that first day. I blame the advisement lady, Ms.Reeves, whose pointed glare had me shaken. I spilled about my run-in; purposefully leaving out the identity of who rammed into me at Bluefields.

I throw it to the other side of the couch. When it bounces on the throw pillows a brown bookmark falls out. I spot a clump of messy scrawl on it.

"You ran to campus?" I ask, reaching for the fallen paper.

"What?" She reemerges and takes her headphones off her head. There's a prominent dent at the top of her blonde ponytail. "Oh, I didn't buy it. I found it outside our door."

My eyes widen. I hiss, "He didn't."

Regret number three: I never should have shown him where I live.

I can practically feel my blood boiling as I lunge to rip the bookmark out from between the pages. In slanted handwriting—his handwriting—is another apology. For what, out of all the instances he has cause to apologize for, I'm not sure.

I've made so many mistakes since coming back, most of them involving Casey. I should've never let him know who I was. I could've just walked away that morning. I wish I had, because now? He knows more about me than I'd like. Who knows how dangerous that information is in the hands of Casey Brandt? It's ammo that only hurts me.