“Just imagine how much more he’d regret it if it was Riv he was meeting.”
He has a point.
I turn to Josiah. “Anyway, thanks so much for helping me out today. I know you’re meeting friends, and I don’t want to hold you up.” I’m 100 percent giving him an out and hoping he takes it before Mav says something else embarrassing.
“Honestly, it’s no problem. I’ll see you on Wednesday?”
“For sure.” I nod.
“Nice to meet you, Maverick.”
“You too, man.” He waits until Josiah walks away. “Look at you! Making new friends on day one. Just don’t introduce him to your feral twin, and you’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know what was worse, living at home last year or living with you two now.”
While River went to Chicago and lived on campus, where literally everyone we know is, I got to live at home in Lake Geneva with my parents and take a general year at the local college. In hindsight, I think it was the right move for me. Did it suck to miss out on all the stuff that comes with living away from home? And was it hard knowing that pretty much my entire network of friends and cousins were out here? Yup. But it was nice being away from my overprotective brothers. I even had a boyfriend that no one threatened to murder. It was an experience I needed and wanted. That relationship only lasted a few months, but I managed to get in some great experimental learning since he had his own room on campus.
“At least now you have some freedom.” Mav tosses my keys at me. They fall to the ground because I can’t see them, and my ability to catch is questionable on a good day with glasses.
“I can’t see to drive, Mav.” I point to my face and nearly poke myself in the eye.
“Oh, shit, right.” He bends to retrieve them. “Huh, well, I have class in ten. I could take you after that?”
“You know what? It’s fine. I’ll walk.”
“I’ll take her.” Kodiak’s deep voice makes the hairs on my arms stand on end.
“See, perfect? Thanks, K.” Mav is all smiles and cluelessness as he pats Kodiak on the back, slings his backpack over his shoulder, and takes off.
“You don’t have to drive me home. I probably have a spare pair in the glove box,” I mutter. I’m sure my face is on fire. The humiliation from the last time I was alone with him comes flooding back, like blood rushing to a fresh wound.
“You’re gonna need to know where the car is parked, regardless.” He’s so close, it’s hard to breathe.
I’m glad I can’t see him clearly. I want to tell him to go fuck himself, but the words get trapped in my throat. It didn’t used to be like this. For a long time, Kodiak was my safe space. We used to tell each other everything. I thought he was my soul mate—until I screwed everything up and made him hate me, and then he went and made sure I hated him back.
“Let’s go. I don’t have all day.”
I practically run to keep up with his long strides.
I want to make some kind of cheeky remark, but the last time I spoke to Kodiak, the results were less than desirable, so it’s better for me to keep my mouth shut. Besides, there’s a good chance I’ll trip over my words like I trip over my feet.
Tears of frustration and embarrassment prick at my eyes. I feel stupid. Clumsy. Unwanted. A nuisance. Girls whisper his name as we pass, and one falls into step beside him, asking about some party on Friday.
He barely acknowledges her, aloof as always.
“Who’s your friend?” she asks.
I don’t bother to look at her or give any indication that I’m aware I’m being talked about as though I don’t exist.
“No one you need to concern yourself with. See you at the party on Friday.” He snaps his fingers at me, like I’m a dog. “Come on, pick up the pace.”
I follow him across the parking lot, teeth clenched, fighting the urge to scream or cry. This is so humiliating.
My car beeps, and I rush around to the passenger side, but Kodiak has only unlocked the driver’s side door, so I yank on it twice and then have to wait until he feels like hitting the button a second time.
“Please let there be glasses in here somewhere.” I slide into the passenger seat and flick open the glove compartment, pulling out the manual and insurance papers in hopes that I’ll find something, anything. Even an old pair with the wrong prescription would be welcome. Or forgotten contact lenses.
Kodiak opens the driver’s side door and bends over to slide the key in the ignition and roll down the windows before he closes the door again and leans against it, talking to yet another girl.
Suddenly my car is filled with sound. But it’s not music. It’s one of my audiobooks. Specifically, a smutty audiobook. And it’s right in the middle of a particularly smutty chapter. Because that’s what I was listening to last night when I went to bed, and my phone automatically syncs to the sound system.
Some people read books or listen to music before bed. I listen to sexy books. It’s way better than porn. The guys are always super attentive, and the women always have seven billion orgasms. And the hero always gives great oral. It’s the ultimate fantasy. Except last night I decided to try out a new genre: reverse harem. It seemed like it might be female-empowering, which is alluring when you’re me—not the actual reverse harem-ing, but feeling empowered.
“You wanna ride our cocks, baby?” the very sexy, gritty male voice blasts through my amazing sound system. “Both of our cocks?”
“Oh my God.” I frantically search for my phone, but it falls to the floor and slides under the seat. Of fucking course. I slap blindly at the dash, trying to find the volume button, but instead of turning it down, I turn it up, right as graphic penetration happens.
I finally find the volume control and mute the damn thing, but it’s too late. Anyone within a mile radius has heard the literary porn. My mortification is extreme. I sink down in the seat, hiding behind my hair, the sound of laughter outside the car like needles under my skin.
I feel like I’m a kid again—standing in the middle of the playground, someone making fun of me, calling me weird. Why doesn’t she talk above a whisper? Everyone looking at me. Laughing. Until River stepped in. Or Kodiak, before he hated me.
But River’s not here. And Kodiak can’t even stand to look at me. Why he offered to drive me home is another huge question mark. Unless he’s just looking for an opportunity to torment me.
My face is on fire. My entire body breaks out in a cold sweat. I can’t get out of the car, not with all these people around. It makes me feel trapped, and I hate it.
Kodiak finally opens the driver’s side door. “You find your spares?”
I shake my head, refusing to look at him.
“Is that a no?”
I purse my lips and remain silent.
Kodiak sighs. “I gotta take this one home. See ya Friday.”
He gets in, closing the door with a slam. He takes his time adjusting the mirrors, and it hits me how close he is. Some things haven’t changed in the past two years: same deodorant, same body wash, same cologne, same hair product, same asshole.
My eyes burn with the threat of tears, but I refuse to let them fall. I will not give Kodiak the satisfaction of seeing me cry ever again. I hate him so much for so many things, but this unnecessary humiliation is currently at the forefront, the things he said to me two years ago a very, very close second.