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CHAPTER TWO The Hunger Calls
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"I CAN'T BELIEVE him!"
"I know."
"He's the worst!" Priscilla declared. She was leaning over the locker room bench, tying her white sneakers. Her sentiments were directed at none other than Andrew Sheridan. He was the worst.
It had been a full day since the breakup. Rhiannon, despite experiencing something that would leave any normal person feeling down on their luck, felt nothing. She waited to see if the tears would come last night. They never did. She was fine with that. And if this indifference made her an ice queen, she was fine with that too. She knew that she should feel something, but the flush of heartbreak never came — only numbness, almost a cool relief.
"I know. I think I have a thing for cute boys that'll screw me over." Rhiannon sighed, putting her face in her hands as if to make the world around her disappear.
"Don't we all?" Priscilla said. "The thing is though, the men I like are twice my age."
"Boys are so not worth it."
Priscilla hummed in agreement. "By the way, how's your dad doing?" she asked, biting her bottom lip to stifle her laughter.
"Don't be gross," Rhiannon admonished, screwing up her face in disgust, which earned another laugh from her friend.
Priscilla shrugged, following her out of the locker room. "I see an opportunity and I take it, okay? He's hot."
"You're sick. I'm tuning you out," Rhiannon said, pressing her hands against her ears.
"So dramatic," Priscilla muttered, rolling her eyes.
But a far more dramatic reaction was justified when Rhiannon walked into the gym — only to find the basketball team on the court. "Can you tell the girls I'll be there in a second? I have to take care of something."
