Page 168 of Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

Xav holds a large glass of ice water in one hand, and the biggest painkiller bottle I’ve ever seen in the other. We make eye contact, and his lips twitch into a barely there smile.

“Morning,” he says, his voice raspy.

I can tell he just woke up by his small, tired blue eyes and his untidy brown hair. I’m guessing he rolled out of bed mere minutes before I came to.

I stare at him blankly.

Morning?

Is that all he has to say to me?

Morning?

“Got you some water.” Xavier sets the glass down on the nightstand and takes a seat at the foot of the bed.

I immediately rain down my concerns on him.

“What happened? How long have I been out? Why did you bring me here? What did you—”

“Easy.” Xavier stops me. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

Irritated, I inhale a long, shaky breath.

“What happened?” I start at the beginning.

Xav goes cold with fury, his jaw twitching.

Oh, this can’t be good.

“Logan roofied you last night. Axel was in on it. They wanted to…” He can’t bring himself to say it.

“Rape me,” I complete.

I understand how uncomfortable he is with the term, but it’s time we say things as they are. It wasn’t just “teenagers having fun.” Or a “drunken mistake.”

It was rape.

Sexual assault.

Xavier nods, his gaze skirting mine as though he’s sickened, infuriated, by our conversation. That’s how I know he’s about to tell me the one thing I’m terrified to hear. The boy made it clear he couldn’t care less about me in his last confession, but fuck, the look in his eyes… The only reason you’d ever look at someone like that was if you cared about them.

Or the unthinkable happened.

My stomach flips, tears covering my cheeks as I sweep Xavier’s blanket off my legs and examine my marked thigh. Logan’s fingernails are imprinted on my skin.

I jerk my palm to my mouth, my voice breaking as I choke. “He… He did it, didn’t

he?”

My body begins to tremble with the aftereffects of being drugged and used like a blow-up doll. I can’t discern a thing through my glassy eyes, and when the first sob rips from my throat, I wonder if he used protection.

If he gave me an STD.

God, what if I’m pregn—

“Vee!” Xavier’s hand swaddles mine, and I fling my arm out of his reach, staring into empty space.

“He did it,” I repeat, my voice so weak I barely hear it. Images of Logan violating a drugged, unconscious Aveena disconnect me from reality. It’s like I’m floating out of my own body.