TOXIC LOVE

I hated him on sight.I'm not a hateful person. In fact, I'm actually really friendly, but something about Jack Edwards rubbed me the wrong way, and has ever since I first saw him weeks ago.Maybe it was the arrogant, smug smile on his face when girls eye him admiringly, or maybe it the was undressing with his eyes thing he did to said girls. Maybe it was the bragging, the I-don't-give-a-crap attitude or the knowledge he could get any girl on campus. Or, rather, any girl in the state.Maybe it was because I was attracted to him when I most definitely did not want to be, combined with the fact he reminded me of everything I left at home in New York.I shook those thoughts off and carried on looking around the room of the Sophmore house as if he didn't exist. It was hard to do - especially when he had three girls on his arm and other unmentionable body parts. Did I mention the guy is sinfully hot?He had this messy, sun-kissed blonde hair with natural highlights that most girls would -

SANDRAI rolled over, wincing at the light coming in through the curtains. How much did I drink last night? Too much, clearly.“Good morning, sunshine!” Kayle shouted and kicked the dorm room door shut.“Nope, not over here.” I buried back under my covers.“I have coffee and muffins!” She pulled the covers down and I groaned, opening my eyes.“Why? Why?”“Why what?”“Why do I feel like I just got run over by a herd of wildebeest?”“One, I have no idea what a wilder beast is, and two, it's called a hangover.” Kayle held out a Starbucks take-out cup and my favorite blueberry muffin.I sat up and took them from her. “Thank you. Why are you not feeling this way?”“I'm one of the lucky ones.” She snickered and chucked herself on her bed. “I don't get hangovers. You, however, do, it seems. Maggie is the same. She'd usually be in bed all day.”“Sounds good to me.” I took a sip of the coffee.“But not today,” she sang. “Today we're getting down to business.”“Down to business?”She raised her

SANDRAI detoured to the dorm room after my morning class. I shut the door behind me loudly and leaned against it, shaking my head.I was about to go on a date with Jack Clove, resident playboy, all because of a stupid dare. But is it the dare that's stupid, or me for agreeing to it?I think I'm voting for both.I ran my brush through my hair and touched up my make-up, glancing at the sheet on the wall. Stage One, Attachment. Today's goal was to leave him wanting a little more, to make him come back tomorrow. I sighed and left the room, running down the stairs and out into the sunshine. My floaty skirt swished as I walked towards the campus Starbucks, butterflies going crazy in my stomach. Why do I have butterflies? I hate this guy. It's not even a real date.That thought didn't stop the extra loud beat of my heart when I saw him. He was leaning against the wall outside, headphones in, and his head was bobbing to whatever he was listening to. His hands were in the pockets of his slim

I knocked on Leila and Maggie's door before pushing it open. Both of them were stretched out on their beds doing schoolwork, and I dropped myself on the floor between them, letting the door shut itself.“Where's Kayle?” Leila asked, glancing at me.“She's, um, entertaining.”“Oh.” Her mouth dropped open slightly.“Yes. Oh.”“Who this time?” Maggie rolled over.“Darla somebody.” I shrugged. “I have no idea, and I'd rather not know to be honest. It's not like I'll see her again.”She nodded. “Mhmm. Heard from Jack?”“Why would I have? He doesn't have my cell number.”“Why not?” Leila smiled.“Because I'm holding out on him.”“Because he fucked up the first date, asked her for a second, and she hasn't answered him yet,” Maggie clarified.“You didn't?” Leila exclaimed. “Oh, nice one, Sandy. That's definitely gonna keep him coming back.”“It's not about that.” I picked at some lint on my jeans. “I see the way he walks all over girls, and it makes me sick. I won't be like that, running and

I stared at my phone in disbelief. I lefted New York six weeks ago and now, only now, has my brother, Patrick, remembered me. This text message was the first time we've spoken since I came to Berkeley. Well, the first time he's spoken. I sent a text message when I got here to let him know I was safe, and then that was it. Until today.I looked again at my phone. I didn't know why I expected any different from him. He would only get in contact if and when he wanted something. And like usual, it was money. I didn't want to know what he wanted it for, but judging by the fact he was asked for eight hundred dollars, I'd say it was rent. All because his arrogant, selfish ass couldn't hold down a job long enough to support our suicidal father.I rubbed my forehead and tried to block out the memories, telling Patrick I'll call up the bank and wire the money to Dad's account. Not that it made a difference. he will use it on what he wants anyway, thinking of Dad second.A wave of guilt crashed