#big bad

You don’t envy her. You could never live that lifestyle. Never throw yourself so carelessly into the unknown.

Opposites attract. That’s what they say. Since your first day in college, you’ve been almost inseparable. If it wasn’t for her, you never would’ve done anything with your youth. And without you, she likely would’ve gotten in way too deep by now.

You sit on her sofa, poring over the philosophy textbook that makes you crosseyed. You thought it would be an easy elective. Turns out, you don’t get any of it. It’s all a bunch of ‘what if’ and ‘why?’ but there’s really no answers.

You sigh as Everly giggles at her phone. She never studies. It’s a miracle because her GPA is the same as hers and she barely even makes it to her lectures.

Is that pretty privilege? You’ve heard of it but you always shrugged it off as misogyny or even just jealousy. You’re sure life would be easier if you were like her; blond, five-ten, and blue eyed. Still, you can’t blame her for a roll of the genetic dice.

“Fortelli is going to gut me,” you groan and slap your notebook. “Why do I have to care what some medieval priest said about animals?”

She looks over at you and makes a face. “Oof, weekly quizzes? Fun. You know they answer keys are all online.”

“What?” You scoff.

“Oh yeah. Guy hasn’t updated his lectures since before we were born,” she chirps. “I didn’t have to do all that. I just put on some nice lip gloss–” She pauses and her eyes widen. She stares at her phone. “Um, one sec.”

She stands up and answers the phone. “Hi, daddy.” Her voice raises several octaves in a singsong. “Uh huh. No, that’s strange…” She heads for the door. “I don’t know.” She laughs nervously. “No, daddy, it wasn’t–”

She opens the door and gasps. You glance over as she backs up. A man steps into the dorm and drops the phone from his ear. He taps the screen without looking and tucks it into his pocket.

“Daddy, what are you doing here?” She juggles her phone nervously then hides it behind her back. Her lock screen is here and Charles; that guy she’s been sneaking around with.

Her dad crosses his arms. You don’t move or say a word. He has that stringency to him that makes you feel like even you did something wrong.

You don’t know what you expected but they’re a lot alike; both tall, vibrant blue eyes, attractive. He’s older and there’s bolts of grey around his temples and through his beard. He must be the same age as some of your professors but doesn’t show it as much.

“Ten thousand.” He growls. “Evie,” he snips. “What did you do?”

“Daddy, nothing,” she rocks as she twists her ankles around each other. “Really. I’m being good.”

“I didn’t raise a liar.” He retorts. “Now tell me–”

Your textbook slips and you catch it with a scuffle of paper. You gulp as he glances over at you. His brows arch.

“Hm,” he hums. “I.. let’s talk privately.”

“Daddy, it’s probably just a mistake–”

“Now,” he points her into the next room.

She lives in one of the bougie buildings. You have a single room to her full bath, kitchen, bedroom, and living room. You can't even covet it as she's all too willing to share her spoils.

She pouts and drags her feet to the bedroom. His eyes longer on you and narrow before he follows. You suddenly feel very out of place. It isn't a new feeling, just much more intense.

You slide forward and shut the textbook. Maybe you should go. You planned on staying the night but the campus buses run for a bit longer.

Then again, you can't just run out. You teeter on the edge, of the couch, of uncertainty. You can hear their voices but not their words.

One sentence booms through clearly. “ARE YOU SERIOUS?”

You're having flashbacks of your own father. He never spared you any shame though. He would've scolded you right then and there and if he needed to give you a smack, he wouldn't shy away from that either.

The door swings open and you flinch. Her father stomps out and slows as he sees you. His lashes flick and his cheek dimples. His throat is all locked up, tendons bulging. He nods and storms out of the dorm.

You sit in silence as you wait. Everly emerges with a sigh. She shakes her head.

“God, my dad is such an ass sometimes. I told him, he'll get the deposit back,” she rolls her eyes.

You stare at her. She's entirely unfazed by the anger. You chew your lip and look down at your hands, clamped tightly around your books. Your joints ache at the tension.

“Oh,” you eke out. The slam of the door still echoes in your head.

“Ugh, please. Don't let him ruin the night,” she flops down with her phone. “He'll come around. I mean, Charles is one of his.”

You don't know what she means exactly. One of his… what? You don't ask.

“Um, okay,” you murmur. “I can go if–”

“Why?” She asks dismissively. “Whatever. He reminded me anyway. You have to come to my appointment!” She squeals and kicks her feet.

“Appointment?” You wonder. 

“Well, secrets out so I may as well enjoy it!” She claps her hands around her phone. “Me and Charles are getting married! I booked the bridal boutique and I have a full Pinterest board of ideas!”

“Married?” You gulp. “But we’re only in second year.”

“Uh huh? And it’s boring. I don’t need school. My dad just wants me to get a degree so he can look like such a responsible father.”

“Hm, right,” you mumble. 

Sometimes, she doesn’t realise how easy she has it. Not the way she looks, or that she is so outgoing. No, she doesn’t worry about tuition or her rent in a place like this. Not with her dad simply storming off because she spent ten thousand dollars; seems like it will stay spent and she’ll get exactly what she wants.

“I know lots of guys like Charles. If you’re interested. They’d love a sweet thing like you,” she smirks. “Oh, they just love taking care of us. All you’d have to do is let me put something cute on you.”