Broken Elite: An Angsty College Romance

Chapter Three

                                                                                     

Everly

"Did you hear that Patrick busted up Andre's face because of you?" The words are spilling from Beth's mouth before she can get her larger than life bag off her shoulder and flop down next to me at my table in the library.

"No." I don't look up from my book because while Beth is nice, she can also turn one sentence into an entire juicy rumor that will be spread throughout the entire campus before my book closes.

She blows out a frustrated huff, causing her straight black bangs to flutter away from her eyes. We were roommates freshman year, and we quickly realized that if we were going to stay friends, that meant we couldn't share a cramped living space.

"Come on, Ever. Did he say anything to you?" She leans forward on her elbows, and I finally look up from my Russian language textbook. I wanted something besides Spanish or French, but it's proving to be more difficult than I anticipated. But I like a challenge.

I groan and close my book because I know that she's not going to let this go until she gets some sort of answer.

"No. We don't exactly talk anymore. You know that. He blames me for what happened to Darcey. He needs someone to hate right now, and I'm that person," I say, tapping my pencil absently on the hard cover of the book. "I really need to study, Beth. This class is ..."

She waves her hand at me dismissively. "I told you to take Chinese. I'm like a built-in tutor. But no, you had to take Russian." She laughs sweetly, trying to be playful. And she's right, both of her parents only speak Mandarin, and she and her four siblings are bilingual. "And everyone knows you and Patrick talk sometimes." She arches her eyebrow at me. "Everyone's talking about how you went to see him at the frat house the other night."

"No they're not." I roll my eyes and start packing up my backpack. Apparently study time is over for me today. I wish things were back to the way they were a month ago when my best friend wasn't some college statistic. Patrick and I were figuring out what we were doing, and I was enjoying every moment, anticipating what would happen next.

"Okay, maybe not everyone. But some people are." She stands with me, and I realize that changing my venue isn't going to make this conversation end. "The hockey boys are a really big deal, Ever." She looks at me expectantly, like I'm supposed to gush over how godlike they are. Sure, Patrick looks good with his shirt off, and my heart swells with absolute pride when he scores a goal and I catch him looking for me in the crowd to see if I'm watching. But that's not why I care so much for him. "They don't even know I exist, but you were in with them. Like really in. I think you still are."

"That's all I've ever wanted in life." I give her a fake smile as we begin walking through the library. I don't really care if I'm being too loud. My best friend is dead, my—whatever Patrick was to me—thinks that it's my fault that she's dead, and all anyone else on campus seems to care about is when the next party is or who the hockey boys are going to get into bed next. The boys, specifically the ones Patrick calls friends instead of just teammates, are an odd breed, always keeping everyone except each other at arm's length. Patrick and I weren't officially dating, but we spent a lot of time together, and in that time, the other guys warmed up to me, and I would even say we were friends. I'd never tell Beth, but being on the inside of their little group looks so different than what she's expecting.

Beth grabs my arm, trying to slow me down. "He can't blame you forever, you didn't even do anything. You just didn't show up on time, that's not a crime." I pull my arm away and frown at her words. She doesn't know the whole story, and I want to keep it that way. She moves with me, not letting go. "You still love him, right?"