Brenda wanted a normal school year. Instead her mom died.
Salma needed space from her sister and terrible ex. Or else she'd lose her mind.
Delilah didn't think she'd have any more problems after moving far from her hometown. That was until she becam...
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❝Violence is a disease, a disease that corrupts all who use it regardless of the cause.❞
― Chris Hedges
🗝DELILAH🗝
There are many moments of truth in life that we all fear to face, one day or another. There was the typical move we see all the time of going in for the first kiss after a date or the classic, heartwarming decision of going down on one knee and popping "the question."
Then there was the even bigger moment of truth of all: figuring out if you'll be the sober one at a college party.
Unsurprisingly, it was too late for Clive—who was currently a tequila shot away from a stomach pump. One hour into the party, he had already downed three drinks in a row and was racing for his fourth one.
"Clive..." I trailed off, trying desperately to make eye contact with him. A dazed, glossy look coated his eyes. He was a goner. Only fifteen minutes ago he had attempted to snort crushed Flamin' Hot Cheetos because of a senseless dare from one of Ivan's bandmates.
"Whhhat?!" Clive slurred, swaying back and forth to the pulsating music. His shoulders tensed up for a second as a hand settled to the crook of his arm. Narrowing his eyes he tried to focus in on the person touching him. "Oh," he hiccupped, "hey baby!"
Clive invited his boyfriend?
He never told me he was telling someone else about our night out with Wyatt.
The broad shouldered brunette smiled over at me. His mouths moved to say something, but it was muted out by the music. He stuck out his hand and I shook it politely. I wasn't sure what possessed him to continue speaking over the music, but he did. As best as I could, I attempted to read his lips.
"Who's my mayo?" I inquired with a puzzled face. At last, what he had said hit me. "Oh, do you mean what's my major?"
A brilliantly white smile flashed, Yeah, his lips seemed to say. What is it?
"Currently it's undecided."
Clive squinted at me. "Since when?"
"I thought I knew but I visited my counselor the other day and somehow ended up deciding I was better off finding a field I was more passionate about."
"It should be prude-ology," Clive snorted loudly.
"Clive!" I narrowed my eyes at him, waiting for an apology that never came. He went on and completely ignored me.
Lamely, he tried to whisper to his man. I moved in closer, plucking the dripping red cup out of his hands and sniffing the caramel shaded liquid sloshing inside. A pungent scent slammed into my nose, making me flinch in reaction. "What the fuck is in this thing? Grain Alcohol?"
