Chapter 6
Emilia's lips trembled, like she'd been deeply hurt.
"I just wanted to—" Emilia started.
"I don't care what you want," I cut her off.
I set my glass down and leaned back in my chair, sounding lazy and indifferent.
"Your fiancé just said out in the hallway he'd give me his life if I asked, but I didn't want any of it. So you really think I give a damn about being your bridesmaid?" I said.
Emilia's face went pale.
She turned to look at Rashad. His hand, holding the wine glass, froze in mid-air. He didn't say a word.
The tension in the room spiked.
After a brief silence, Emilia lowered her head, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."
"Don't cry," Kayla was the first to speak up. "You asked her so sincerely, and if she doesn't appreciate it, that's on her. Why did she have to use Rashad's words to hurt you?"
"Exactly, Emilia. You've done more than enough. Some people just don't know what's good for them. Why bother with her?"
Emilia shook her head, sobbing. "No. Galilea didn't mean it that way. She just hasn't moved on yet."
As soon as she said that, a few people's expressions changed.
"Haven't moved on? It's been six years since they broke up, and she still hasn't gotten over it?"
"Exactly. Otherwise, why would she even show up at this reunion?"
"No wonder she was so defensive earlier. She can't handle seeing Emilia doing well."
Kayla handed Emilia a tissue and then turned to me with obvious disdain. "Come on, you're not a kid anymore, Galilea.
"Emilia was being nice asking you to be her bridesmaid. Even if you didn't want to, you could've just been polite. Did you have to make her look bad in front of everyone?"
Watching everyone take turns with their drama, I couldn't help but find it a bit funny.
Back in college, it was always the same drama.
Emilia always played the "good girl," Kayla was the enforcer, and the rest chimed in to back them up.
They were always in perfect sync.
I stood up.
Sofia got nervous again and grabbed my hand.
"Galilea," Sofia said.
"Don't worry," I said, giving her hand a reassuring pat. "I'm going to stand for a bit."
I looked at Emilia.
"I appreciate the gesture, but I don't make friends with trash," I said.
The whole room went wild.
Kayla slammed the table. "Galilea, what did you just say? Say it again."
"Trash belongs with trash," I said.
My voice wasn't loud, but every word was crystal clear.
"If she's shameless enough to cling to me, that's her problem. Just stay away from me," I added.
Emilia's tears flowed even harder, Kayla was shaking with rage, and the rest of the group's faces all changed.
"You still think you're some Hensley princess? Your dad's business crashed ages ago."
"Who do you think you are now, acting all important?"
"Emilia's already been way too good to you. If it were me, I'd never forgive what you did back then."
Everyone started shouting from every direction.
I just stood there, not saying a word.
Then I felt a cold shock from behind.
Red wine was dumped right over my head, soaking my collar and running down my neck.
Kayla was standing behind me, holding an empty wine glass, smiling broadly.
"Oops, my hand slipped. Sorry about that," Kayla said with a mocking tone.
She watched the wine drip down my hair, her tone so smug it made me want to slap her.
"Why don't you go home and change? This outfit... Oh, it's probably not worth much anyway, right? We'll reimburse you from the class fund," Kayla said.
A few people burst out laughing.
Emilia covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking. It was hard to tell if she was crying or laughing.
Sofia stood up, her voice trembling. "Kayla, you've gone too far."
"Me? I'm the one who went too far?" Kayla shot back, not even glancing at her. "Who threw the first insult?"
I wiped the red wine from my face.
Then, in one swift motion, I grabbed another full glass of red wine from the table and dumped it right back at her.
Kayla shrieked.
Her scream echoed around the private room.
Red wine drenched her face, and that logo-covered shirt she was so proud of was a total loss.
"Are you insane? Do you have any idea how much this shirt costs? There's no way you could afford it," Kayla shrieked.
I calmly wiped my hands with a napkin from the table.
"Why don't you pay for mine first?" I said.
Kayla gave me a once-over, then burst out laughing.
She said, "That outfit? You really think people can't tell it's an obvious fake?
"Let me clue you in. Philip Thompson's original jacket is a one-of-a-kind custom piece this year. It's not even available for sale, only given to specially invited clients.
"I don't care where you picked up your knockoff, but don't make a fool of yourself by wearing it around."
I glanced down at the jacket I was wearing.