I'm shaking—both on the inside and on the outside. When I take off and just start running, I don't know if the shaking will ever stop. My body is alight with energy, full of it. It's all consuming. It makes me feel powerful. It's adrenaline. And as much as I like it, I know it's a lie.
There's nothing powerful about me, but maybe if I act like there is—maybe after tonight—word will spread and the desperate motherfuckers of this stupid town will get the message. Mess with Avalon Manning and you'll regret it.
I don't know how long I run, but the sky is starting to turn a lighter blue with red and orange hues staining its edges when I finally stop. Only then do I think about what Patricia said to me just before I left.
"You're just like me, Ava," she had whispered. "Nothing but a dirty, cheap whore.”
40
Avalon
Nothing but a dirty, cheap whore…
A lock clicks and I sit upright as the bedroom door swings open and the lights are flipped on, momentarily blinding me. Breathing hard, I cover my eyes once I see who's standing there—like a barely repressed violent statue in the doorframe of my dorm room. Sweat slides from beneath my eyes ... no, not sweat. Fuck. Am I crying? I wipe the evidence away and inhale hard before looking back at the man who's been the bane of my existence for the last two months.
“What the fuck?” Rylie’s groggy voice drifts over to me as she pokes her purple head out from beneath the sheets. As soon as she sees who our late night visitor is, her eyes widen and then narrow when they swing my way. “What did you do?” she snaps.
I ignore her.
“Get out.” Dean’s command leaves no room for argument and it's perfectly clear that he's not talking to me.
With an irritated huff, Rylie throws back her sheets and reaches for her shower caddy.
“No, fine. I’ll just take a shower,” she mutters, glaring between us as she shoves her way around him—as tired as she likely is, she’s far more brazen right now than she normally acts. “A long one,” she calls back.
Dean steps further into the room and the door closes behind him.
“How the hell did you get in here?” I ask.
He arches a brow before striding further into the room until he hovers over where I still sit in my bed. One hand lands on the mattress and the other on the headboard. He leans in close. “I go where I want, when I want, little girl. Did you really think you could keep me out?” It’s a rhetorical question, I know. So I don’t answer. Dean shakes his head and levels his heated gaze on me. “You and I have a chat coming.”
“No.” I shove him back and swing my legs out from beneath the cheap comforter.
“No?” The surprise in his tone might be funny if I felt like stopping to think about it. But I don’t stop and I don’t want to think about it.
“Looks like your hearing isn’t impaired,” I say in a dry tone as I dig through my drawers for workout clothes. “Congratulations.”
“You don’t tell me no,” he growls. “No one tells me no.”
I find what I’m looking for and without looking back, I whip my shirt over my head and snatch my sports bra and wrangle it on. “I just did,” I reply. Leaving the shirt off, I find my running shorts and socks. The effects of the old memory still linger over my mind and I hate it. I feel weak, a mass of trembling fire. Anger and confusion and old hatred all combining into one body—mine.
“Why the fuck did you leave?” he demands, his voice tight as he watches me change. His eyes trail down the ratty sports bra—not all of the stains from my last fight came out even after I ran them through the wash on the first floor a few times, but at least now they look more like dirt stains than someone’s blood.
“I left because I wanted to,” I state.
“I told you to stay. You said you would.”
He takes a step closer, and I move one back. Push and pull. That’s what this feels like between us. Like we’re both choking on leashes with each end in the other’s hand. He pulls me and I yank him. He pushes me and I do the same. My fingers curl into my palm and I stab the blades of my nails into the fleshy padding beneath my thumb. Too much. He’s too fucking much. I feel trapped by him, by this room, by this whole fucking university.
My body whirls towards his, and without considering my words, I blurt the first thing that comes to my mind. “Why the fuck did you bring me there?” I snap. “What was the point?”
Dean leans back, his hooded gaze turning his eyes into slits. I feel like I’m being watched by a snake. The only difference between Dean Carter and a serpent ready to strike is their pupils. In every other way that matters, he’s a dangerous creature. One that I’ve let get far too close, far too often.
“I already told you,” he starts. “I can’t trust you—”
“Bullshit!” I yell, cutting him off. “Don’t fucking play that. You don’t trust me. I don’t trust you. We’ve been over it. What’s the real reason you took me to Luc Kincaid’s house?” His eyes shoot open in surprise and I smile a cold mean smile. “Oh, what? You thought I didn’t know? Were you trying to hide it? What else are you trying to hide? The fact that you’re using me for some stupid, corrupt game you’ve got going on?” That’s the only thing that makes sense to me right now. There’s no way Dean Carter could be genuinely interested in a girl like me—I’m poor, I’m foul mouthed, and the things I’ve seen and done in the last eighteen years of my life are probably darker than he could possibly imagine.
There’s blood on my hands. Rage in my veins. And so much hatred, I don’t know if I’m sucking it in or exhaling it with every fucking breath I take.
“You’re King of the fucking castle,” I continue, unable to stop myself as I take two steps towards him and shove him back against the door. “You rule the roost, right? You have everything you’ve ever wanted. Just a snap of your fingers”—I stop and make the snapping motion with my hand right in front of his stupid, handsome face just to make a point—“and it’s yours, right?” I shake my head and lower my arm. “But then I come along and what? Suddenly, you don’t get everything you want.” And what does that make me to a man like Dean? A challenge. A real one. That’s all I’ve ever been and all I’ll ever be.
Bile that’s been sitting in my stomach since I first saw Kate and Dean plastered against one another comes rushing up my throat like liquid fire. By the sheer force of my will, I tamp it down. "When will you fucking get it?" I glare up at him, spitting the words through gritted teeth as he stares down at me. His jaw is hard, the muscles beneath his shirt like stone. My chest pumps up and down with exertion. "I'm not going to be controlled by you. Ever."
Cold, brown eyes meet my gaze. "Are you done?" he asks after a beat.
"Yeah," I say. "I'm fucking done." I shove away from him and the door, turning my back to him.
One step is all it takes. One step and then I feel his hard hands on my waist, his chest against my spine, and his breath in my ear as he whispers against the side of my face. "Good," he says. "Then it's my turn."