Oh Jesus tap-dancing Christ, she knew. How in the name of fuck did she know? Who else knew? Tatum felt her stomach plummet, and she knew she was going to freak out. The panic was creeping up on her already, as she stoned mind began to piece everything together. What all of this meant, if Bekka wanted to say something to someone, anyone. But Frankie especially.

How the fuck did she know?

Tatum tried desperately not to betray any of her worries on her face, just staring blankly at Bekka, and hoping her chest wasn't heaving as quickly as it felt like it was. She was going to hyper-ventilate if she didn't calm down. This was bad, really bad, and she didn't think she was getting out unscathed.

Finally breaking the paralysis of her panic, Tatum spun around in her chair, back turned to Bekka now. She fiddled with something on her laptop, staring blankly at that instead. "W-Why do you care? I just.. it's none of your business. You were gone away. Y-you.. you could fuck a guy in here if y-you wanted," she managed to blurt out, lips feeling numb even as she said it.

Act tough was her best chance. That's what someone like Hunter or Mackenzie would do, just puff out their chests and fuck the haters. She just didn't know if she had enough puff in her. She was already winded, and Bekka hadn't even gotten started. "What b-bird?" she suddenly asked, realizing another reality of this situation.

How else could she know? Mackenzie was the only person who could have told. Wasn't she?

Moodily, she clicked through her iTunes, selecting a song. She didn't want to talk about this anymore.