His Broken Obsession

Chapter 4

ALORA

“If it isn’t Alora, the fat pig."

My body goes rigid.

I know that voice.

I look up to find Brielle Davis standing above me, wearing the same cruel smirk I remember from high school.

For a moment, I can’t hear anything else. Just her voice and everything unpleasant it makes me remember.

Her eyes move over my face, studying the changes.

I can’t help it.

I shiver involuntarily under her gaze. Her eyes track the movement, and her smirk widens.

Fuck.

The conversations around us die down as people turn to watch. A few students shuffle closer, not wanting to miss whatever is about to happen.

Why did I have to run into her today?

I should have suspected when I ran into Dilora. Did she tell Brielle?

I’ve spent months imagining what would happen when I saw Brielle Davis again. Would I cry? Walk away? Finally give her the slap I’ve owed her for years?

None of those imaginary encounters happened in front of a college classroom on my first day.

What a f*****g coincidence.

My fingers keep trembling so I curl them around the strap of my bag instead to keep them busy.

She won’t say anything. I tell myself.

She has as much to lose as I do. Maybe more.

I repeat it until I can look her in the eye without flinching again.

“What do you want, Brielle?”

Can her smile get any wider? Apparently, it can.

“Is that how you greet an old friend?”

Old friend.

The audacity almost makes me laugh.

Brielle and Dilora made high school a living hell, with their minions ready to join in. I still remember going home unable to look at anything edible because their words followed me all the way to the dinner table.

And that was before everything else.

“Why are you here? Desperate for attention?”

Her brows lift. “I see you didn’t just change your appearance. The little mouse found a voice. Squeaky, but it works.” She mocks, and her minions burst into laughter.

I want to crumble. Instead, I force myself to lean forward with a bored smile. “Oh, Brielle. You should try to find a new hobby. Trying to bully someone is old.”

It isn’t.

“You think you’re all pretty because you shed some weight?” Her eyes travel over me slowly, lingering on the bare skin above my skirt.

I fight the urge to pull my top down.

“I don’t need you to tell me I’m pretty. I own a mirror.”

“But can a mirror show you what’s inside that pretty heart of yours? Those things you fight to forget?”

My smile falters.

It’s only for a second, but she catches it.

Her eyes brighten, and I hate her a little more. I let my gaze move over her face slowly. “Speaking of mirrors, have you taken a look at that nose? I would sue the doctor if I were you.”

I want to change the topic, and it works. Her mouth falls open.

I continue. “My mama’s a top surgeon. You know that. I could put in a good word and get her to fix it. Maybe that foul mouth as well. All at a discounted price you won’t get anywhere else. After all, we’re old friends.”

Laughter breaks out around us, and Brielle’s cheeks turn red. One of the girls behind her presses her lips together to fight the smile, but not quickly enough because Brielle catches it, and she quickly looks down.

“Now that you’ve pointed it out, I can see it,” Harvey whispers not so subtly, leaning forward to study her face. “Girl, it’s legit crooked.” He tells her seriously.

Hani holds out a nose mask. “Want one? At least until you fix it?” Hani asks with a strangled sound, trying not to laugh.

I want to enjoy it. For once, Brielle is standing in front of a room full of people laughing at her instead of me.

But my hands won’t stop shaking.

I press them together beneath the table and hope she can’t tell.

“Don’t think that because you’ve found yourself a gang of losers, you’re suddenly on my level,” she snaps. “Once a nobody, always a nobody. Not even weight loss can change that.”

The words land exactly where she wants them to, but I laugh anyway.

“Funny.” I tsk. “Are you seriously going to call me a loser? Do we have to compare bank accounts? Count assets? For you to remember that just because I was quiet back then doesn’t mean you are on my level? I’m the one you can’t touch, Brielle.” I remind her.

Her jaw tightens.

St. James might be filled with rich kids, but even money has hierarchy.

My dad’s tech company is worth billions. Mama has her fashion empire inherited from her mom's side of the family and the hospital. I already have shares in their businesses and four estates in my name.

Brielle knows all of this. She knew it when we were in high school too, but it never stopped her from making me feel like I had nothing because I never fought back or spoke up.

“Come on,” Harvey says with a wicked smile. “Open your bank account, baby. Let’s count the zeros."

“Stay out of it, fag.”

I’m halfway out of my seat when Harvey speaks.

“She’s not only poor, but she’s also not very creative.” He turns to Hani with a disappointed pout.

Hani pats his hair sympathetically. “I noticed.” She says with a dramatic sigh. “What can we expect from someone who lacks a lot of things?”

More laughter erupts.

I sit back down, but the anger stays lodged in my chest.

“Just stop it, Brielle.” Dilora finally speaks. “It’s getting embarrassing. Just go back to your seat.”

Brielle’s expression quickly changes. “You’d better shut your mouth, Dilora. You are so f*****g pathetic. It’s embarrassing to admit I was ever your friend. Jumping from one queen to … whatever you think this one is.” She eyes me and gives Dilora a disgusted look. “I guess you’ll always need someone to serve.”

I wait for Dilora to defend herself.

There’s no way in hell the girl I knew in high school would let anyone speak to her like that. Not even Brielle.

But she lowers her eyes.

Hani and I exchange a glance.

What the actual f**k?

Did becoming a better person somehow mean losing the ability to defend herself?

“What?” Brielle asks her. “Nothing to say?”

“Funny how you keep picking on everyone,” Hani cuts in. “Are you feeling threatened? Is that why you’re here, talking s**t in last season’s shoes?”

Brielle looks down before she can stop herself. “They’re not last season. I just got them.”

“Darling, I would know. They’re my mom’s designs. If you can’t afford this season’s collection, just say it. We might be able to spare you one.”

Harvey covers his mouth, but his shoulders shake. For a second, I think that will be enough.

Brielle will walk away, the class will find something else to look at, and I can pretend my first day hasn’t already gone to s**t.

Instead, she looks at me.

The embarrassment is still there, but something colder settles over her face.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

I shrug. “You were the one who came here looking for trouble.” I remind her.

“You act like I’m the devil. Did you forget you aren’t so innocent?”

My smile slips.

There it is.

I feel it before she says anything else. The familiar drop in my stomach when I’m reminded of that past that makes me want to throw up for hours. I feel the sudden need to get out of this chair and back to the protection of my parents’ home.

But I keep still. “Go back to your seat, Brielle. Haven’t you gotten enough humiliation for one day?”

“Maybe. But have you?”

Harvey glances at me. I can see the question on his face, but I don’t have an answer to give him.

Brielle looks at my new friends. “Do your new friends know you, Alora?”

“It’s not your business.” She tilts her head, and I have to stop myself from looking away.

“You’ve changed your clothes. Changed your body.” Her eyes sweep over me again. “You’ve even found people willing to defend you. That must feel nice.”

“Leave her alone," Hani says. “If you weren’t such a terrible person, you’d have people defend you too. It’s what friends are for.” She throws a sarcastic look towards the girls behind Brielle, and they look away.

Brielle ignores her, keeping her eyes on me. “I wonder how long they’ll keep defending you once they know the truth.”

My mouth goes dry.

She won’t.

She can’t stand there and threaten me with something that would drag her down too.

But the people around us are still listening. Someone behind Brielle whispers to the girl beside her, and when they look at me, I hate that I already want to explain myself.

That’s the worst part.

She hasn’t said anything, and I’m sitting here feeling as though I need to beg them to hear me out.

Look at you.

The whisper slips through before I can shut it out.

All that confidence. Where did it go?

I dig my fingers into the material of my bag.

There’s no way I’m letting her do this. Not here with everyone watching me like I’m something they’re trying to figure out.

I lift my chin. “Don’t beat around the bush. If you have something to say, spill.” I challenge her, and her smile disappears.

For one beautiful second, I think I’ve called her bluff until she leans forward.

“Be careful what you ask for.”

My heart pounds. “You wouldn’t want that conversation happening here any more than I do,” I say, and her eyes narrow.

I hold her gaze, even when every part of me wants to look away.

She has too much to lose.

Brielle leans closer, lowering her voice so only I can hear. “You think I won’t talk because I have more to lose?”

My fingers go numb around the strap. “Let’s see if Daddy’s money can save you when they hear my story before yours.”