The Girls in the Room

She had idolized her once.

Back in tenth grade, Madison used to watch Juniper Granger float through the halls of South Point like she was carved from golden light—varsity track star, AP queen, that perfect figure barely constrained by her uniform skirt. Madison had mimicked her eyeliner. Had studied the flick of her ponytail. She even remembered the way Juniper once said "People like us don't need to try—we just are." It had been scripture.

And now?

Now Juniper was standing in Joey's dining room like a storm cloud with a duffel bag, stabbing her finger into his chest and spitting words like acid.

"I'm not going to sit around and let my loser brother pay a bunch of sluts to fuck him while our parents' backs are turned."

Hookers.

She'd called them hookers.

Madison's spine went rigid. Her hand found Joey's arm instinctively, claiming it, anchoring herself.

"I would never pay for sex," Joey had said, practically in a whisper, a quiet intensity that she rarely saw from him. Madison felt it like a balm, soothing the sting of insult.

Then came the truth—the only truth.

"The girls here are head-over-heels for me."

And Madison, already standing by his side, felt her chin rise with pride. Damn right they were.

She wasn't some skank off the street. She was Joey's girlfriend. She belonged there, next to her man. The man she loved. The man she was going to spend the rest of her life with.

And Juniper Granger, her former hero, could go fuck herself.

God, what a bitch.

Aynsley remembered Juniper from school—older, perfect, aloof. Everyone fawned over her like she farted diamonds. Aynsley had hated her then, and she hated her more now.

What kind of psycho walks into a house full of girls and calls them prostitutes?

Juniper was practically foaming at the mouth, barking about their parents, jabbing Joey like he was some guilty little perv. It made Aynsley's blood boil. You don't talk to him like that. Not Joey. Didn't she know how much better they all were because they were with Joey? Wasn't it obvious?

If this were a week ago, Aynsley would have already clawed her eyes out.

But things were different now. Now Aynsley took her cues from Madison, who, as far as Aynsley could tell, was pretty much right about everything. No, she would wait until Madison made a move.

It was still there, though, that killer instinct. She could feel it bubbling beneath the surface. Threatening to attack.

So instead of slapping Juniper across her smug face, Aynsley just stepped closer to Joey. She looped her arm through his, letting their bodies brush, her glare fixed on Juniper like a sniper sight.

Then Joey spoke—cool and clear.

"I would never pay for sex."

There it was. Her boyfriend stuck up for her. It was like a weight lifted from her shoulders. Aynsley didn't need to fight every fight, especially when she had a man like Joey in her life, a man who she could trust to never even consider what his sister had accused him of. Joey was honourable, and Juniper should be ashamed of thinking otherwise.

And then—

“The girls here are head-over-heels for me.”

She closed her eyes and held tightly to his arm. Sure, Aynsley had known that he was good for her, that she was lucky to be with him, but head-over-heels in love? She'd never really thought of it that way...

But now that he'd said it, she couldn't deny it. Yes. Head-over-heels. Absolutely. For the first time in years, Aynsley felt butterflies in her stomach when she thought of a man. And she was lucky enough to already be with him. Joey Granger. The man she loved.

Yes. Yes, they were. As if any of them needed to be paid to love him.

And if Juniper had any brain cells left, she'd realize it and fall in line.

She didn’t know what to do with her hands.

They were folded politely in her lap, fingers pressed together too tightly, knuckles pale. She was sitting cross-legged at Joey's feet, like she had drifted there without thinking, and now her whole body was humming with tension.

Joey's sister was yelling. A lot. At first the crowd in the room stared at the drama, taking it in, but when Juniper kept at it, kept yelling, almost everyone slipped out. Everyone but Joey's girls.

Indira hadn't even known he had a sister. She could see it, of course. Not a resemblance to Joey, but to Donna. The young angry woman was exactly how Indira would have pictured Joey's mother when she was younger. Those cheekbones, those eyes, that body. Joey's sister had it all.

But what stuck with Indira was not the sister's beauty. It was that word.

Prostitute.

She didn't look up. She couldn't. Her face burned with shame that wasn't hers. Indira had never been accused of something like that before! She was a good girl, hard working, building a future for herself.

For her future family.

She would never have dreamed of being a prostitute. Even thinking the word made her feel dirty.

But Joey—Joey—didn't flinch. He just leaned in, and said in a clear, quiet voice, the truth.

"I would never pay for sex. The girls here are head-over-heels for me."

Indira's breath caught in her throat.

She believed it instantly. Not because she had to, but because it rang through her like a bell.

And yet...

Her mind twisted back to her parents. Her mother in the kitchen, standing over a steaming pot. Her father hunched at the dining table, scanning through overdue bills in silence. They had given everything—everything—for her. They believed in her future.

And she was in love with a white boy with so many girlfriends he could form a volleyball team.

How could she explain that?

How could she say, “Yes, I know he comes from a different culture. Yes, I know he's with lots of other girls. But yes, I would do anything he asked. No, I'm not ashamed."

Would they ever accept him?

Would they think she was throwing away her culture, her history, her dignity?

But the longer she sat there, the more she realized… it didn't matter.

Because it was true. She loved him. She would give him everything.

Even if they disowned her. Even if they never understood.

And in the growing silence, she tilted her head, just enough to brush her cheek against the side of his leg.

She was right where she belonged.

Her throat was dry.

All she had wanted to do was come home and spend the weekend with her parents. And what does she find there? A party. A goddamn sorority house, apparently, built around her brother.

Juniper knew her brother. He was a loser. There was absolutely no way that many people would show up at their house for a party on a Saturday night. No. Way. At. All.

And yet there they were! And it was worse! Joey himself, leaning against the wall like he was James Dean, absolutely gorgeous girls draped all over him like it was a toga party and they were his bed sheets.

Juniper snapped.

"I'm not going to sit around and let my loser brother pay a bunch of sluts to fuck him while our parents' backs are turned."

She was screaming before she knew it, jabbing him in the chest again and again. Because that was the only thing in the room that made sense to touch. Everything else felt wrong.

But then he looked at her. Not in his usual, beaten down, holding back tears manner, but with an intensity she had never seen in his eyes. Juniper wanted to step back, give him space. Was he about to lash out? But then he spoke, just loud enough to make sure that what he was saying was meant for her.

"I would never pay for sex."

And the world shifted.

It was like someone had pried open her ribcage and poured warm liquid truth directly into her lungs.

Of course he wouldn't. Why would she have even said that? Yes, she was angry, but could she have ever believed that her brother, Joey, the one she had known his whole life, would stoop to something like that?

Of course he wouldn't.

Of course he didn't need to.

She blinked. She looked around. At the girls.

They weren't whores.

They were… in love.

And then he said it. Softly, but with that same impossible finality.

"The girls here are head-over-heels for me."

It wasn't a brag. Joey wasn't like that. He was just letting her know, telling her to back off, that she was far off base. And she was. Love was in the air, and the girls in that room had caught it.

Juniper's mouth opened, then closed. Her arms dropped to her sides.

She remembered Madison now. Aynsley too. Little underclassmen who used to blush when Juniper walked past in her track shorts. Now they stood beside Joey like handmaidens, proud and content.

And Juniper?

Something had begun to burn in her chest. Something she wasn't sure how to name.

She had walked in judging them—judging him. But she had been wrong. So wrong. The only thing uglier than being jealous was pretending you weren't.

And she was jealous.

Of every girl in the room.

Her body trembled. Not from fear. From recognition.

Juniper Granger exhaled slowly, adjusted her grip on her duffel bag, turned, and left the room without a word.

She needed to get changed.

There was a party going on at her house, a party her brother was throwing. She'd blown her entrance, but maybe she could salvage the night. The only problem was that Juniper wasn't dressed like she wanted to be one of his girls yet.

But she would be.