“I need to leave,” I whispered to my boyfriend as my legs drunkenly uncurled from underneath me.
My body felt shaky as I tried to head as inconspicuously as I could towards the exit. With each step I regretted my love for dramatics and vodka sodas more and more. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her head towards the stage, a broad smile playing on her annoyingly plump lips. She flung her golden hair over her shoulder as I put my head down and hid behind a vail of my own, freshly curled (and fake) strands.
Almost there almost there, I told myself, as I tried to avoid the eyes I felt following me. Some friends reached out, but I brushed them off with a small smile and pointed at my phone. Pretend you have a call, I urged myself, as I saw their faces twist from concern to understanding. I was fine. Everything was fine. I just had to call someone. This didn’t even matter. I WAS FINE.
The she-devil stepped up to the microphone just as I pushed through the exit, “Oh my gosh you guys!” I heard her coo, as the heavy door swung shut behind me. The air in my lungs escaped in one great wave. Right now the girl I hated more than anyone in the world was the center of attention. Boys, my boys were staring at her in her slutty (okay, kind of cute) red dress that showed off her impressive cleavage as she juggled with excitement. Is there anything worse than that?
Yeah. If that girl was also the ex of your boyfriend. Who was in the crowd of guys gazing up at her with adoration. Fuck me, right?
I felt my body sag against the rich wall of the hotel’s hallway as realization hit me. From inside the banquet hall I heard cheers as the person I was so dreading to win gave her acceptance speech. She’s not even funny, I told myself jealously as male laughter taunted my ears. I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself as I groped inside my bag for a napkin to wipe my eyes.
How could this happen? Why her? Why me?
As I slipped off my heels and stumbled to a couch down the deserted hall, I willed myself to stop crying. I knew this was going to happen. I had been prepared for this. Ever since she and my boyfriend broke up last year she had attached herself to his fraternity like a leech. Showing up at the house almost as much as me and using her big boobs and big love for crafting to her advantage. Maybe she’s a nice girl, a small, rational voice in my head spoke up out of the despair. Who cares? I fired back, not ready to view her as anything more than a horrible, horrible bitch.
The truth is, I hated her. Not just disliked. Hated. Dramatically, wildly, annoyingly hated. Since the start of my relationship with my boyfriend, she made it her mission to be everywhere. Dancing next to us at the bar. Hanging out at the house when we were. And reminding me with her presence that once upon a time, it used to be her who held my boyfriend’s
It didn’t help that she was hotter than me.
And now? Now she was the chapter’s sweetheart. Now she was going to be at everything. Now she won. Dramatic, right? But utterly devastating for a 19-year-old nevertheless.
I stared down at my freshly manicured toes and felt warm tears land on my feet. It wasn’t that I didn’t win. Hell, I didn’t even run for sweetheart. After only knowing the chapter for a few months, despite how close we had come, it didn’t even cross my mind. But as news started spreading that she was running, panic filled my veins. It will be fine. I had tried to calm myself. Someone else will win. There were girls who had been dating boys in the chapter for years. Girls who were graduating. Girls who deserved it.
But instead, a hot, blonde, sophomore who dated a brother for a year before having a messy breakup was the “face” of the chapter because her sorority was a little bit higher teared than the other girls running. It was gross and lame and sexist (maybe? Can I use that as an excuse?). But it was also how boys function. She was hot. She had big tits. Therefore, she should be sweetheart.
And none of that would have mattered if it wasn’t her. If I hadn’t just heard her name called out at formal, becoming the face of my boyfriend’s chapter.
A chorus of noise broke my fantasies of ripping the roses out of her hands. My friends, two of the older girls who also didn’t win sweetheart, were approaching me with a large glass of something pink. I heard the new sweetheart of the chapter scream, “I love you boys,” before a crescendo of yells drowned out her voice. I grabbed the glass in the shorter girl’s hand and chugged something sweet.
“How are you?” She asked, nudging me so they could sit down next to me.
“Uh, not to great.” I murmured back between mouthfuls of alcohol.
“Yeah, I figured,” the other girl said as she sat on the other side of me. “If it helps, I’m pretty sure she only won because she has huge tits.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t help,” I choked back, looking down at my own average sized chest and wondering what my boyfriend thought of my non-sweetheart boobs. “Aren’t you guys upset?” I asked them, tearing my eyes away from my own b-cups and sending a guilty glance towards the one who gave me alcohol. They had to be pretty devastated right now too, right?
“Eh,” the shorter girl said, her face full of kindness. “It’s honestly not that big of a deal.”
Not. That big. Of a deal? I stared at her in drunken disbelief, wondering how she could say such an idiotic thing. She convinced me that in a few years it wouldn’t matter, that the girl was just a slut and that it would all be okay. That sweetheart, while an honor, won’t be something the hurts years later. That I’ll have other, better, more important things to worry about in the years to come.
And you know what? That bitch was right.
After dramatically sobbing for a few more minutes, I pulled myself together, went back into the hall, got blackout drunk, and fucked my boyfriend in the hot tub while the new sweetheart looked down on us from a balcony. And despite the resulting UTI, I ended up having a great time that evening. Sure, I hated that girl. And yes, I still stalk her out of rage on social media despite the fact that she’s no longer a part of my life. But as the weeks and months went on, she dated and dumped another brother, made the chapter look bad, and moved across the country. Not much better revenge than that.
So sure, I had to sit next to my boyfriend while his ex got sweetheart. That was awkward. And despite how much I liked him, we broke up a year later, and he started dating a different hot, blonde girl. But it all worked out. Thanks to my connections to the chapter, I was put up for sweetheart the next year. And this time, I was the ex, standing on stage getting my revenge. This time, I was the girl getting sweetheart while his date looked at me with envy.
Jk. I stopped hanging out with the chapter because I’m not a complete psycho. Still, can you imagine?.
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