“Tiffani,” Rachael murmurs, biting her lip awkwardly as she offers me an apologetic glance. Tiffani just shrugs again as though she doesn’t see what the problem is.
My stomach twists again as I try to let her remark go over the top of my head, but it’s difficult to ignore. It’s hard to pretend that it doesn’t hurt, that it doesn’t make me feel even sicker than I already do. I don’t want to sit around here and wait for our waitress to arrive, because that way I’ll receive a frown from Rachael and most likely a smile from Tiffani when I don’t end up ordering anything, and I’d much rather avoid it completely.
“Excuse me,” I murmur, and Emily immediately gets to her feet to allow me to slip out of the booth. Rachael furrows her eyebrows at me suspiciously, questioning my departure, so I quickly say, “Restroom,” and head off in search of them.
They’re over by the opposite side of the diner, and as I quickly slip through the door I realize they’re rather small. Only a couple stalls, couple sinks. Thankfully, there’s no one else here, so I lean back against the wall by the hand dryers, heaving a long sigh.
I don’t want to go back out there. I don’t want to face Tiffani again. I just want to get out of here, get back to the apartment, and find solace in Tyler. For a minute, I try to picture the layout of the diner, trying to work out if it’s possible for me to get from the restrooms to the main exit without Rachael or Tiffani or Emily even noticing. But then I think more carefully about Emily, about the fact that she’s sitting out there with two complete strangers, one of whom she already dislikes. Tiffani’s picked up on that, and I’m now convinced that she’s adamant on ridiculing Emily the same way she’s trying to ridicule me. I’m wishing I asked Emily to come to the restroom with me. I’m wishing I hadn’t left her. For Emily’s sake alone, I know I’ll eventually have to force myself to rejoin the group. Just not yet. In the meantime, I can only hope that Rachael will have her back if Tiffani makes anymore inappropriate remarks.
My peace in the restrooms doesn’t last for long, though, because after five minutes the door swings open. The person who walks through it is the one person I’m trying to get away from.
“What’s taking you so long?” Tiffani asks, folding her arms across her chest as she steps nearer to me. I don’t even look her in the eye. I just barge past her, my body brushing against hers as I make for the door. “Wait,” she says.
“What, Tiffani?” I snap, spinning around on the balls of my feet. I will never be able to tolerate her. “What?”
“I was up late last night,” she says calmly. “Thinking.” She begins to pace the restroom, walking back and forth between me and the hand dryers on the farthest wall, her hands on her hips. She’s purposely trying to be dramatic, as always. I don’t buy it, though. I just fold my arms across my chest and sigh as I wait for her to continue. “So last night while you were out with Dean, I spoke to Tyler. Apologized for what’s happened in the past. He was totally cool with it,” she says. I’m not entirely sure if she’s lying or not, because Tyler certainly didn’t mention any of that last night when I got back from my dinner with Dean. He never mentioned an apology, or that he was cool with it. “I think I could have another shot with him,” she says as she comes to a halt in front of me, her eyes meeting mine. “Of course, that’s if you weren’t in the way.”
I get what she’s hinting at almost immediately, and I can only laugh. “You really think he’ll break things off with me so that he can be with you?” I roll my eyes at how pathetic it all sounds. That’s the only thing that isn’t terrifying about Tiffani—her ridiculous schemes. I think they’re getting worse the older she gets. “God, you really are deluded.”
“Of course I don’t,” she says. Almost so slowly that it’s agonizing, her lips curl up into a tight smile. “I know he won’t do that: that’s why I need you to do it.”
“Wait,” I say. Her words no longer seem humorous. “What?”
“End whatever is between you and him,” she orders sharply. Her eyes narrow as she taps her foot impatiently against the tiled flooring.
I shake my head quickly. She must seriously be crazy if she thinks I’d ever do such a thing. “That’s not happening,” I state, my voice firm despite how weak I feel in comparison with her.
“I guess I’ll give Dean a call then.” Reaching into her purse, she fishes out her phone. She takes a few seconds to tap around on the screen, and when she glances back up, she smiles at my horrified stare. She holds her phone up for me to see, and Dean’s name is on the screen, his number already dialing.