My Toxin

Chapter 19

Summer was supposed to be fun and relaxing. But with every passing day, the tension with Kemi cast a heavier shadow over the Santorini trip. It wasn't just the whispers anymore—she was spreading outright lies about me. She'd taken to bad-mouthing me around campus, calling me a "white snob," to anyone who would listen, like I did something to personally offended her; it felt personal. The murmurs reached me through mutual friends in my economics class, and though I tried to shrug it off, it gnawed at me more than I wanted to admit.

One afternoon, Marjorie and I were sitting in the library, the soft shuffle of pages and low murmurs of students filling the air. She was scribbling notes, her head bent over her textbook, a few loose curls brushing against her cheek. Normally, watching her work brought me a kind of calm, but today, it only fueled my frustration. I slammed my laptop shut, earning a surprised glance from her.

"Marjorie, we need to talk," I said, my voice low but sharp.

She frowned, setting her pen down slowly. "What's going on?"

"Kemi," I said, leaning forward, trying to keep my voice measured. "She's been bad-mouthing me to people all over campus. It's not just annoying—it's disrespectful. And honestly? It bothers me that you haven't stepped in."

Marjorie sighed, leaning back in her chair, her arms crossing defensively. "Alex, I know Kemi can be... intense. But what am I supposed to do? She's my friend, and I can't control what she says."

I stared at her, incredulous. "What are you supposed to do? You're supposed to have my back. The fact that she feels comfortable trashing me makes me question if you've even defended me at all."

Her expression tightened, irritation flashing in her eyes. "Alex, come on. You're making this bigger than it is. I'm already juggling exams, my friendship with her, and... whatever this is between us. I don't have the energy to deal with more drama."

"Whatever this is?" I repeated, my voice dropping, cold and clipped. "Got it. So I'm just... something else on your list, huh?"

"That's not what I said," she snapped, her voice rising slightly. A few heads turned in our direction. She lowered her tone, her words coming out in a harsh whisper. "I care about you, but I'm not about to ruin a friendship because you're upset. I can't take sides right now."

I leaned back in my chair, the tension in my chest unbearable. "Fine," I said, my voice hard. "Don't take sides. But don't expect me to keep pretending this doesn't bother me."

She grabbed her bag, shoving her books inside with quick, angry movements. "You know what, Alex? I can't do this right now. I have enough on my plate without you adding to it."

"Right, because I'm the problem," I shot back, my words heavy with sarcasm.

She stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "You know what? Believe whatever you want." Without another word, she turned and walked out, leaving me sitting there, the weight of our argument pressing down like a stone.

For the next week, Marjorie didn't answer my texts or calls. From what I heard, she wasn't talking to Kemi either. The silence between us was suffocating, the kind that seeped into every corner of my day. I didn't try reaching out again—I couldn't bring myself to. Every time I thought about it, her words replayed in my head, sharp and cutting.

Frustrated and needing to vent, I called Chanel late one night. She answered on the second ring, her voice groggy but attentive.

"What's going on, Alex?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

"It's Kemi," I said, pacing my room. "She's still shit-talking me, and Marjorie's just... letting it happen. I don't get why she isn't more upset about it."

Chanel was quiet for a moment before speaking. "Listen, from what I keep hearing from you, this bitch is crazy. But if it's bothering you this much, you need to address it directly. Don't drag Marjorie into it—handle it yourself."

Her advice was blunt but fair. "You're right," I admitted, sighing. "I'll talk to Kemi. But if she gets out of line..."

"I'll handle her," Chanel interrupted, her tone light but firm. "You know I don't play."

I couldn't help but laugh, even in my frustration. "Thanks, Chanel."

The next day, I texted Kemi and asked to meet. She responded with a curt "fine," and we arranged to talk near the humanities building, away from the usual crowds. She showed up with her arms crossed, her expression set in defiance before I even opened my mouth.

"What do you want, Alex?" she said, her tone flat.

"I want to know why you have such a problem with me," I said, keeping my voice steady. "You've been running your mouth all over campus, and for what? I've done nothing to you."

She let out a bitter laugh. "You really think this is about you? You're just another rich guy who thinks he can buy everyone's loyalty. You don't get it, Alex—you'll never get it."

I stepped closer, my frustration bubbling over. "You don't even know me, Kemi. You've decided who I am based on some assumption, and it's bullshit. I grew up with Marjorie. She knows who I am, and if my money doesn't bother her, why does it bother you?"

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought she might actually listen. But then her expression hardened again. "Because you don't deserve her," she said quietly, her voice trembling with barely contained anger. "You'll never understand what it's like to struggle the way we do. And I'm not going to let you use her as some... accessory in your perfect life."

I shook my head, my voice low and firm. "This isn't about me or Marjorie, is it? This is about you. And I get it—you've been through shit. But dragging me down won't fix anything."

Her eyes flared with anger, and before I could react, she grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked me into a kiss. It was cold, desperate, and unwelcome. I froze, my mind racing, before quickly pushing her away.

"Kemi," I said, my voice sharp with disbelief, "what the fuck was that?"

She didn't answer. Her face was a storm of emotions—anger, regret, confusion. Without a word, she turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, my heart pounding with a mix of shock and fury.

As I stood there, the reality of what just happened hit me like a freight train. This wasn't just tension anymore—it was chaos. And now, I had to figure out how to untangle myself from it before it destroyed everything I cared about.