Propping his elbows on his knees Thorne shrugged, “She didn’t need anyone else. She had me.”
My heart picked up some speed. “Ohhh-kay, but…”
“She could’ve been honest and told me the truth, she didn’t, and she paid with her life for it.”
“Thorne hates liars.” Varla said.
“Yeah but…you didn’t just aid in her suicide, you aided in the death of a baby.” I said, stunned. I couldn’t believe the words falling out of my lips; the fact that I was having this conversation, period, seemed surreal.
“She should’ve thought about that before she fucked him in my bed.” Thorne muttered. There was no getting through to him, I knew. No matter how horrible, he was set in his ways and reasons. And as bad as I hated to admit it, I pitied him—like truly pitied him.
“I’m sorry.” I finally whispered, glancing down at my lap. My knotted up hands were as white as snow. I was anxious, on edge, and feeling somewhat sick about everything.
I got up from my seat.
“I don’t want to see anymore videos. All it does is paint you in a bad light.” I shook my head. “If you want me to know what you did then just say it—don’t be afraid to be honest.”
Reyes held up his finger. “The clips refer to us as sexy and mysterious.”
Laces nodded, clearly agreeing with his friend. “It evens out all of the bad shit we did.”
“Absolutely.” There was a fierceness to Reyes’ tone, like he was willing to fight to the death to keep entertainment night alive. “In here we’re nobodies.” He pointed at the window hidden behind a bookshelf in the corner. “Out there, they respect us. They know better to mess with us.”
Thorne nodded hard. This was something everyone, even Varla, agreed on. They didn’t care if people thought they were crazy for what they did—all they cared about was the recognition and respect that followed.
“My video isn’t going to be as elaborate as any of yours.” I said, folding my arms. “And I don’t care how pissed off any of you get for this but—the only reason I’m in here is because I told the truth.” No one spoke. I explained what had happened—the abuse I had endured, my sister’s rape, and my gathering the courage to speak to someone. “I did the right thing and I still ended up here. Where’s the justice in that, Thorne? Laces? Reyes? Varla? Do you think it’s fair that a rapist sleeps comfortably every night, while I’m bound by the state of North Carolina to be here?”
When no one spoke, I scoffed and stormed out, cursing every name in the book as I stomped down the hallway. In an attempt to feel better I made a pit stop at the library and snatched a hard copy of Wuthering Heights off the shelf before going to my room. Breathing heavy, I crawled into my bed and opened the book, ready to escape to a kinder world—well, kinder to me; one that made sense in all-of-this ruckus.
A pair of knuckles knocked against my door a few minutes later. I knew who it was, but chose not to acknowledge his presence. I don’t know why, but I had expected more from him—not an angel by any means, but a friend.
“I fucked up.” he said right as I was turning the page. “I shouldn’t have forced you to watch any of it.”
Be strong. I took a deep breath. He needed to atone for his sins, and me smiling while he made a big elaborate—and possibly heartfelt speech—would only deter the progress he had made. “I’m listening.” I mumbled.
He moved closer. “You were right: I am a fan of Emily Bronte. She was my mother’s favorite writer.”
Oh? At that I couldn’t help but glance up from my book. He had never spoken a word about his mom, so this was a pretty big step. “Was she an artist?”
Sitting down at the edge of my bed, he shook his head. “No, she was a nurse. My father was the artist.” Putting my book aside, I crawled to where he was and for a while there was nothing but the strident sound of our breaths to keep us company. He interlaced his hand with mine and gave a soft squeeze; I felt the same as before, like an electric current was coursing through my body, lighting every nerve ending on fire. The ache formed low in my belly and moved down my thighs, causing me to cross my legs to ease the sensation.
I knew I was turned on.
I’d been sheltered from most things in life, but not this. My P.E. instructor had given us the talk the first week of freshman year, and my mother, not wanting to have any grandchildren just yet, had followed suit and voiced what she knew in the weeks that followed.
My breasts felt heavy, my panties were wet…
He needs to leave.
But he wasn’t.
So in order to avoid looking like a bigger fool I took the road far less traveled by girls like me.
“If I tell you something will you promise not to hold it against me?” I asked, clenching my thighs together.
With our hands still laced together, he turned to face me and my breathing grew heavy as the grin I’d come to know so well spread across his lips. “I won’t hold it against you—but I can’t promise not to laugh.” He warned.
“I’ll take what I can get.” My eyes fell to my feet. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. “I don’t know how to explain it without feeling stupid. Ugh.”
“Do you want to write it down and give it to me?”
I frowned. “I wouldn’t know how to phrase it, exactly.”
He blinked.
“Please just,” I paused, “don’t make fun of me for it, okay? I’ve never talked about this before so I don’t know the protocol for this type of thing.”
“Alright, I promise I won’t make fun of you.” I’d piqued his interest.
“Okay.” I squeezed my eyes shut. He was still holding my hand, which was a good thing, right? Absolutely. He hadn’t bailed on me for anything else, so surely he would understand this. I squeezed his hand, hard. “I have this ache in my um…”
Damn. I rarely ever cursed but this situation demanded it. Damn.
“In your…”
I cracked my eyes to see Laces zoned out staring at my lap.
“Do I have to spell it out?” I whispered.
His hungry eyes flashed to me. “Yes.” He rasped.
Glancing away, I swallowed the dryness in my throat. “My um—AREA—is in a bit of discomfort.” I said carefully. “And I’m not going to look at you right now because it’ll only make it worse. Can you leave, please? I’m not mad, I’m just agitated.”
I expected to hear his footsteps making tracks for the door at any second, but karma didn’t give me that reprieve.
“Look at me.” Laces said quietly, giving my hand a light squeeze.
I couldn’t.
Something was wrong with me. It had to be. Physically, Laces was the ideal male specimen; he was tall and lean, with gorgeous blue eyes and stunningly high cheekbones that rivaled most models. Only a fool would’ve turned him down.
I guess I was that fool.
“Please don’t do this to me. Can’t you seem I am embarrassed beyond belief?” I said. I released his hand and jumped to my feet, pacing back and forth like a manic as he lay back in my bed and threw his sculpted arms behind his head, watching my every move. I pressed the palm of my hand into my upper thigh, “God, when does it stop?!”