“I know I can be a lot. I dumped a lot on you, and, well … not many can handle it. So I thought maybe … you decided I wasn’t worth it.”
I’m so stunned that it takes me a minute to process it. But I get it. Not many can handle unabridged truth, which is why I choose not to share it more than I do. And Ashton’s been surrounded by inauthentic people her entire life. She’s half-expecting every person to turn on her, which may be why she acts like nothing bothers her most of the time. Letting people see her pain is opening her up to being hurt and rejected again.
“I’m your friend. I won’t abandon you; that’s not who I am. Or what you deserve. I’ll always be honest with you. Asking for time wasn’t about you. I’m sorry you thought it was. This was about me needing space to get my shit together.”
“You didn’t have to do it alone.” Her eyes shine with sympathy. “You don’t have to take on the world by yourself, Lana.”
“Thanks. Guess I’m not used to asking for help either. And I also need to figure out how to not be so angry. Still working on that.” I let out an exhausted breath because it’s damn tiring, trying to keep from exploding.
“Will you tell me what happened?” Ashton asks, a note of uncertainty lingering in her voice, like she’s still not sure she has the right to ask.
I proceed to recount the worst hours of my life and how it overlaps with the worst day of my life. This is the first time Ashton is hearing about The Point and what Vic did. I tell her most of it, leaving out the family stuff, and it’s not because I don’t trust her, but because it’s a lot to ask of anyone to keep secret.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Vic before. But if he’s the one who drugged you that night at the barn, you deserve to know. I refuse to keep silent again, not if it could hurt someone else. I won’t do that to you.”
Ashton releases a heavy breath. “He always gave me the creeps whenever I saw him at parties. But I don’t know if it was him at the barn. I barely remember anything after we joined Courtney to play the game.” She pauses as if fighting to remember. “If there’s any way I can help you make his life hell, you know I will … and I’ll enjoy it.”
She cocks her brow with a malevolent smirk. I chuckle.
“I know you will. I have a feeling he’s not done messing with me.” I sigh. “But I have no idea how to stop him.”
“He’s a psychotic piece of shit. Which means, he’ll screw up, and we’ll be there when he does.” She presses her lips together, reluctant to ask. “Do you know if Nina’s alright?”
“Niall left a message on Tuesday.” After I refused to pick up his call. “He said she’s recovering. The police didn’t have enough to open a case. I knew she wouldn’t say anything. But I guess a witness said they attacked me. It doesn’t matter … she’s never going to forgive me.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong!” Ashton declares, defending me fervently. “I mean, other than stab her. But that still wasn’t your fault.”
“She won’t ever see it that way. They were both so furious; it’s like they couldn’t hear anything I said. They wanted to blame me. All over a stupid guy.”
“Sweetie, I don’t think it had anything to do with Parker,” Ashton consoles.
“Then what?” I can’t imagine what else I could have done to set them off like that.
“Jealousy.”
“Of me?” I scoff.
“Trust me, I know what jealousy can do to a person. It’s surrounded me my entire life.” She shifts to face me. “You have people who care about you … Nina saw it when you and Parker were talking. And the fact that Niall did everything he could to get you away from that life says something. It doesn’t sound like the girls have anyone willing to rescue them … other than you, and you were taken from them.” She sets her hand on my forearm. “Don’t blame yourself. Some people aren’t who we think they are, especially when we need them the most.”
I blink up at her. “That was pretty deep. Have you been drinking Arden’s tea?”
She bats her eyes in mock innocence.
“Sooo … what’s this?” Ashton leans over and snags the paper from between my fingers. She reads it before I can get it back. “Aww, Lana. He truly is incredible. You better tell this boy you love him in, like, the biggest, most romantic way ever, or I’m going to do it for you.”
My mouth drops open. “You will not!”
“Oh yes I will,” she counters like I just dared her. “And you don’t want it coming from me.”
I purse my lips in defiance. But Ashton releases a menacing cackle.
I have no doubt she’s serious, so … I cave. “Fine. I’ll tell him. When I’m ready.”
“That’s not good enough. This weekend.”
“Ashton!”
“You still have to ask him to the Ball. So you’d better get your declaration game on.”
I narrow my eyes in warning. She narrows hers in return. A silent showdown.
“Let’s go have a tea party!” she announces suddenly, leaping from the swing, leaving me rocking unevenly.
“Tea? Or mar-tea-nees?” Arden offers when we enter her room.
Ashton linked her arm through mine on our walk back to the dorm and has refused to let me go, no matter how many times I’ve attempted to squirm out of her hold.
“Hmm …” Ashton defers to me.
“It is the last day of summer classes,” I note suggestively.
“True,” she says with a nod of her head. “Martinis it is.”
She finally releases me and slides up on the elevated bench. I have to use the crossbar to boost myself up.
Arden presses a panel on the console covering the sink, and a shelf emerges with a minibar display.
“So sneaky,” Ashton admires. “I love it.”
The floor is glowing a rose pink, and the chandelier is pulsing gently to the trance beats coming from the speakers. Arden has a bright cerulean scarf wrapped around her head with a section of her hair dramatically twisted over the top. She’s wearing sparkling cat-eye glasses, and her lips are painted metallic gold. Her svelte body is wrapped in a short, strapless white dress with a metallic-gold-and-silver boa draped backward around her neck.
I watch her shake the martini mixture while shimmying her hips before pouring it into glasses. It’s purple, and I don’t bother asking what’s in it. I’ve learned to drink what I’m given when it comes to Arden, and maybe fifty percent of the time, I like it.
“Is your mom okay?” Arden sits on an aerospace-looking stool pulled up to the table.
I give her a questioning look, wondering what prompted her sudden concern; she hasn’t asked about her all week.
“Lance. I saw him at the gym. He mentioned he was worried about you,” she explains. “And we started talking about your mom.”
I roll my eyes.
“His intentions are noble,” Ashton soothes, patting my leg. Then she bursts out in a giggle. “See what I did? Noble. His curse?”
“Yeah, I got it,” I mutter. “He needs to keep his mouth shut. I don’t care how noble his intentions are.”