Bitch

I glared at him, then sighed. "Fine."

Hannah, however, didn't care to listen to Liam's suggestion. "You forgot to invite Carson, too, so I texted him. He'll meet us after his class is done."

"Great," I said unenthusiastically. "Just who I wanted to see."

"Maybe he'll ask Markus to come."

"And maybe I won't puke all over the table," I replied.

Hannah frowned. "Uh, didn't you guys go out the other night and—"

"It didn't end well," I said, grinding my teeth. "Drop it, okay?"

A modicum of sympathy appeared on Hannah's face, but she didn't say anything else.

"This was a terrible idea," I said to Liam. "I should've stayed home."

"Home? You were skipping class and moping around my place," he replied. "Look, I know you're bummed about things, but you need to—"

"Stop telling me what I need to do," I grumbled.

He sighed. "You know what I mean."

I did, but I still crossed my arms and pouted for a few minutes. Liam patiently waited until I was done sulking before continuing.

"I just want you to be happy," he said quietly. "Okay? I know you're upset, but holding a grudge is just punishing yourself."

I made a face at him, despite him being right, but tried to brighten up. My mood increased considerably when the server brought our drinks over along with a basket of bread. I helped myself to a piece immediately, slathering it with butter before taking a huge bite and immediately retching.

"Ugh," I said.

"What?" Liam asked.

"This tastes like Sambuca."

Hannah frowned, grabbing a piece of bread and smelling it before taking a small bite.

"Um, normal people call that licorice," she said. "And I'm pretty sure it's just from the fennel seeds on top."

Wrinkling my nose, I started picking the small seeds off the top of the bread. I was so engrossed in making sure every last disgusting little pod was off the rest of my bread that I didn't notice when Carson walked in.

"Afternoon, everyone," he said, settling into the only free chair left at the table: the one directly across from me.

"Hey," I said, hoping my sullenness could pass for being distracted.

He grabbed a piece of bread and started eating it. "So Thalia, I hear things ended badly with Markus the other day."

"Wow, you should be in HR or something," I replied. "Your tactfulness is the stuff of legend."

Carson rolled his eyes. "Coming from you, I'm gonna have to take that with a grain of salt. You're as blunt as a used crayon."

Before I could respond, the server returned with our food. He placed a cheeseburger and fries in front of Liam, a chicken sandwich in front of Hannah, and a loaded platter of every imaginable appetizer the pub offered in front of me. The server hadn't even turned away when I dug in, immediately burning the roof of my mouth on a particularly hot deep-fried pickle.

"Hungry?" Carson asked.

I flipped him off, blew on the pickle, and popped the rest of it in my mouth.

"So what happened?" he asked.

"Drop it," I said, my mouth still full.

"Nah, I wanna hear the story," Carson said. "Markus is one of the most laid-back people I know, so for him to be upset is pretty fucking weird, you know?"

I swallowed and picked up another appetizer. "It's none of your business."

"Well, I mean, he's my friend, so it kind of is."

"Did you come here just to confront me about this? This is why we don't invite you to things."

Carson rolled his eyes. "No, it's just I haven't seen you since whatever happened and I figured I'd try to get the story now."

"If you want the story, ask him."

Carson opened his mouth to respond at the same time that he reached for one of the hot wings on my plate. Without even thinking, I slapped his hand away and glared.

"One, fucking ask," I said. "And two, get your own fucking food."

"Jesus Christ, selfish much?" he asked, pulling his hand back.

"Selfish? Don't touch people's food without asking!" I said.

"Markus said you went a little crazy. I thought he was exaggerating but—"

I laughed, a single high-pitched note that garnered far more attention than I'd have liked. "Sure. I went crazy. You obviously know what happened better than I do. I mean, I was there and everything, but God forbid you take my word on what happened."

"What happened, then?" Carson asked. "'Cause Markus said you guys were making out and you started accusing him of doing some pretty horrible stuff that he swears he didn't actually do."

"Dude, you need to back off," Liam said. "You sound like a massive asshole right now."

"I know I do, but—"

"But nothing!" I snapped. "Fine, give him the benefit of the doubt. Sure, maybe he didn't mean to touch my tits. He fully admitted to staring at them, and he didn't slow down when I asked him to, and then he yelled at me because—"

"—because you accused him of calling you a frigid bitch when he never said anything even close to that!"

"It doesn't matter!" My heart was pounding so fast I thought I might pass out. "I told him... I said I didn't want to... I mean I could've... It just doesn't matter, okay? You brought this up, not me."

"People aren't mind readers, Thalia," Carson continued as if I hadn't spoken. "The second he realized you were upset, he stopped. I'm not saying he did everything right, but you're overreacting."

"What the fuck, Carson?" Hannah said. "You're being a massive dick right now."

"She's overreacting," he repeated.

She looked from Carson to me and then back again. "Whatever did or didn't happen, you're being an asshole."

"So she's allowed to insinuate that Markus is the kind of guy who would do something like that but I can't defend him?"

"I never insinuated anything." My voice cracked and I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry. "I didn't want to talk about it. I never even said anything to anyone except Liam because I—"

"—realized you were wrong and he was right?" Carson finished, almost triumphant. "You realized you went overboard?"

I wasn't often left speechless, but that was one of those times. So many thoughts were rushing through my head that I couldn't pick a single one of them to say out loud. Carson smirked, picked up one of the fries on my plate, and ate it.

"You should apologize. I mean, just because it's the right thing to do, not because Markus would consider going out with you again. He thinks you're a crazy bitch and there's no way in hell he'd give you another chance."

"I don't want another chance," I finally said.

"Good. Because you were a huge bitch to him."

I opened my mouth to respond, but Liam spoke before I could.

"Stop calling her a bitch." His voice was low and angry, colder than I'd ever heard. "Not putting up with people's shit doesn't make her a bitch."

"Of course you'd defend her," Carson said sarcastically. "Think she'll finally put out for you if you take her side enough times?"

"Fuck you," Liam said. "You're making it seem like Thalia was the only one who was wrong in the whole situation and—"

"Exactly!" Hannah said, surprising all of us. "I mean, for fuck's sake Carson, no matter what happened, he still made her uncomfortable. You have no idea what's that like, being in a situation where you're scared and feel pressured and someone's not listening to you. She might've overreacted but something had to happen for her to react in the first place!"

"Yeah, but—"

"But nothing!" Hannah folded her arms and glared at him. "Thalia and I don't even like each other and I still think you're being a fucking asshole."

"Excuse me, folks."

We all looked up at the sound of a deep voice. Our server stood some feet away, behind a man who was clearly the manager or the owner or something.

"I hate to cut in, but your table is being a little loud. Perhaps you could take your... discussion... elsewhere?"

"No need," I said. "I'm leaving."

"Thalia, wait..." Liam said.

I threw some cash on the table and told them to split the rest of my platter. Before anyone could even react, I was out of my chair and striding towards the exit.

"Thalia, slow down!"

I ignored Liam, walking as fast as I could down the sidewalk towards the transit station. His footsteps slapped against the concrete, but even when they slowed as he caught up to me, I ignored him. Silently, he walked alongside me, panting slightly as he tried to catch his breath.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked.

"Yep."

"No you're not."

"Then why'd you ask?"

He sighed. "Come back to the bar. Carson feels like a dick and wants to apologize and—"

"Oh, well, if Carson wants something, then of course I will. I couldn't possibly let him not get what he wants."

"That's not... look, I know this is a complicated situation but—"

"But what?" I stopped so suddenly that Liam ended up three steps in front of me before he reacted. "But what, exactly? Why don't you go back to the bar and just speak for me again, since you're so fucking good at that?"

He glanced away for a moment and took a breath. "We've talked about this. I wasn't trying to speak for you, I was standing up for you."

"I don't need you to stand up for me!" I yelled. "I am fully capable of taking care of myself and standing up for myself and telling people exactly what I think. I don't need you to step in and try to control the situation like I lack the ability to deal with things on my own!"

"I know you don't!" he protested. "I'm not trying to control things, I just—"

"Just what? Just think I can't handle myself? If you think that, you're as bad as the rest of them."

Liam didn't respond, though it was probably for the best. Between the thundering of my pulse rushing through my ears and the way my entire body seemed to be shaking, I likely wouldn't have even heard him.

"You know exactly what happened with Markus because I told you exactly what happened with him. Yeah, I probably could have handled the situation better and yeah, he didn't know I'm sensitive about... stuff, and yeah, I was scared and angry and upset but you know what? I was perfectly happy to just let it go, and then fucking Carson has to come in and start pushing buttons. And instead of letting me defend myself, you have to jump in and take over like you're some kind of white knight."

"You know it bothers me, right?" he asked.

I laughed, throwing my hands out contemptuously. "What? That I'm a huge bitch? That people don't like me? How does that affect you at all?"

"No," he said. "It bothers me when people are mean to you."

"Oh, I'm so sorry that people being mean to me is just so hard for you to deal with and—"

"Jesus Christ, would you stop for a second?!"

The words I was trying to say almost ceased to exist and my eyes widened as Liam raised his voice. He looked at me, his forehead wrinkled and a pained expression crossing his face.

"You get it in your head that, I don't know, everyone's against you. You know I fucking care about you, right?" he said. "Yeah, even with the fact that you're talking to me like... this. Like whatever. You're the strongest woman I know. Like, you're a complete badass. I know you can handle yourself, I know you can defend yourself, but I don't like to sit there while people talk about you like that. I'm on your side, Thalia."

"So I'm supposed to just get over it because it's what you want?"

"That's not what I said and you fucking know it," he shot back. "When people stand up for you, it's not a goddamn insult! It's supposed to be supportive, not degrading. You can be a strong person and still appreciate it when people are on your side."

"Oh, so now I'm not appreciative enough?"

Pink patches appeared on his cheeks, his eyes fierce with frustration. I had never seen Liam with an expression quite like that. I couldn't quite pinpoint how it made me feel. It scared me and it bothered me, but there was something else, too.

"Are you doing this on purpose or do you actually believe that every word I say has some underlying meaning?" he asked bluntly. "You know damn well that I wouldn't ever say something like that. I don't want to hurt you, Thalia. I love you, okay? I fucking care about you. I always have, I always will. It just pisses me off when people talk about you like that. They don't know you the way I do. I'm not trying to upset you or talk over you or disrespect you."

"You don't get to choose—wait." I stared at him. "What?"

It was impossible to tell whether Liam had meant to say what he did or if it slipped out accidentally. Either way, it didn't really matter. The words were out there. He didn't backpedal and he didn't try to deny what he had said. He simply froze, the fierceness in his eyes changing as redness crept up his neck and cheeks. After a moment, he sighed.

"Yeah," he said. "I... yeah."

"No," I said. "You don't. You do not love me."

"Thalia, I—"

"You don't!" I shouted. "Don't say that, don't fucking do this to me, okay?"

"I do," he said. "It's not... I'm sorry. I can't help it and I know you're not interested and that's—"

"Stop it." My voice shook, and whether it was with anger or fear or something else, I didn't know. "Stop it, right now. You're lying."

"Okay," he said. "Fine. I'm lying."

"No, you're not." My voice broke and I wanted to scream and push him and run away all at the same time. "You... how long?"

He looked down, probably so he didn't have to look at me.

"How long, Liam?" I asked, my voice shaking.

"Since before we moved," he said quietly. "Since we made that pact as kids."

Years, he meant. Literally years. Almost half of our friendship, he'd been in love with me, and I hadn't known it. I couldn't speak, couldn't even move. I couldn't place the emotion I was feeling. It might have been anger. It felt more like devastation.

"No," I said. "You... there's no way. No. You can't say that."

"Okay. I won't say it."

"How could you say this?" I spat back. "How... we've kissed, Liam. I've... your place, I have stayed at your place, at your apartment because I thought you were just my friend, not someone who just wanted to—"

"I am your friend!" Some of the fierceness returned to his voice as he looked up. "I can't help it, okay? I love you and I know you don't want to hear that but I would never have... never, Thalia, you get that? I would never have done something to hurt you."

"Sure," I snorted. "That's what they all say."

He recoiled slightly, hurt eyes staring at me from behind his glasses.

"You could've told me," I continued. "You could've said... something. Anything. You lied to me, you made me think we were just friends and now you're telling me you wanted more. Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Because you're my friend!" he exclaimed. "I didn't want to lose that and I knew... you always said we were just friends. I'd rather have you in my life as a friend than lose you over this."

"I can't believe you."

I folded my arms across my chest. My voice wavered, the anger beating hard and heavy in my chest, the threat of tears all too real. I had cried in front of Liam a million times, I had sobbed and sniffled and wailed because I thought he was safe. He had seen me in those vulnerable moments because I'd trusted him.

I couldn't do that anymore.

"I didn't do this on purpose," he said. "It's not like I woke up one day and thought 'hey, I'm gonna fall in love with my best friend because that's a good idea'."

"You knew." As hard as I tried, my voice still cracked. "You fucking knew how I felt about... stuff like that. You knew... no, you know. You know... everything, you know fucking everything about me, you know how much something like this would hurt me. You lied to me. You... you let me trust you."

His shoulders slumped as he looked up at me, pleading. "Thalia, I'm sorry."

"How could you do this to me?"

"I'm sorry," he said again.

I turned on my heel and walked towards the transit station, long steps that brought me further and further away from him. That time, Liam didn't follow.

Kids say horrible things.

When I first started getting bullied, I thought they'd eventually run out of names to call me. I was a naive kid, apparently.

The first names were simple ones. Mean, but simple. Ugly. Fat. Stupid. They made fun of my birthmark, my hair, the way I walked, the way I slouched to appear smaller. There was only so much I could do to make myself invisible when I was a head taller than every other kid in my class, but I still tried.

When I had to start wearing a bra, they called me Thalia Titsling. When I started getting hair under my arms, some asshole kid said I looked like an orangutan, so my nickname became Orangu-Thalia. That one didn't last very long, probably because it was too long to say. As the other girls started catching up to me, it morphed into the far-less-creative Tall-ia.

Around the time Liam moved away, the nicknames fell out of favour and insults became the weapon of choice. I wasn't just ugly; now I was an ugly bitch. A fat bitch. A stupid bitch. When they made me cry, a pathetic bitch. When I stood up for myself, a loud-mouthed bitch. When I wore anything that hinted at the fact I had breasts, a slutty bitch, and when I wouldn't date boys, a frigid bitch. When I fought back, a crazy bitch, and when I tried to smile and ignore them, a fake bitch.

They called me a bitch, so that's what I became.

It stopped being an insult when I wore it as a badge of honour. It became armour, something I could wrap around myself to deflect the insults and the mocking and the laughter. They called me a bitch, and instead of crying, I could say "Yeah, so? Is that the best you've got? Is that the worst you can think of?"

I took that word and I embraced it. I became it. I let it define me and control me and become a part of me. I told myself again and again that it was just who I was. If I was going to be a bitch, I'd be the biggest fucking bitch there was.

Underneath all those layers of armour, though, somewhere deep in my heart, it still hurt every single time. There was only one person in the world who knew that; one person who knew how all those words and insults and actions tore at me. One person who knew all the things people had done to me, all the ways I'd been hurt, and all the trouble I had trying to trust anyone after years of learning why I shouldn't.

There was one person in the whole world who I trusted, and he'd done the one thing I couldn't handle: he'd fallen in love with me.

Some people might have found it romantic. They might have thought it was sweet that he was willing to stay around someone he thought he couldn't have because friendship was better than loneliness. If we were characters in a movie, I might have run to him on that sidewalk, fallen into his arms as cars and people passed us by, and kissed him—really kissed him, that time, not just one of our fake kisses—before telling him I loved him too.

This wasn't a movie, though. This was my life. This was my friend, my best friend, someone who knew my every secret, my every embarrassing flaw, who had seen me cry and seen me at my absolute worst. He was someone who put up with me when I was being unreasonable. Somehow, even though I was angry and saying horrible, mean, terrible things to him, he loved me.

Worse, we had kissed. I had slept in the same room as him, never knowing that he wanted to see me as anything more than a friend. He had never said anything, never done anything, but whether I liked it or not, it changed everything.

After leaving Liam standing on the sidewalk, I went home. I kept my face stoic and calm, I kept my breath steady and measured, and I walked in the house and greeted my parents. Before they could say anything else, I excused myself to my room under the guise of studying for a midterm. I didn't study, of course; I sat on my bed as emotion after feeling after memory washed over me, each of them fighting each other for my attention. Anger bounced into shame and shame rolled into betrayal. Regret morphed into fear, which twisted and knotted and curled around itself until it became some kind of generalized misery.