When Heather got to the car, Lauren was already seated inside. Heather pulled the door open and spotted Lauren tapping her fingers aggressively against her thighs, her eyes fixed straight ahead like she was ready to explode.
She could already feel the heat of Lauren's glare without even turning her way.
Heather wasn't entirely innocent. She knew what she did when she ordered that creamed latte earlier.
Lauren had always used her lactose intolerance as a weapon — stuffing her own food with dairy just to blame Heather when she'd get sick.
Every time, it was Heather left standing there painted as the villain, no matter how much she tried to explain herself. Their parents, the press, the fans — none of them cared for the truth.
Eventually, Heather stopped trying to be the angel they wanted. Sometimes, embracing the role of the villain was easier. Especially with someone like Lauren.
