Page 22

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

REMI

My stomach churns as I unlock my dorm room door. What if Sloane is here? My phone died overnight so I have no way to know if she’s tried to reach me. I walked back to the dorm, darting glances over my shoulder the whole way.

Like someone would catch me. Like I did something wrong.

I take a breath and push open the door, excuses on the tip of my tongue. But the light is off, and I slept late. With Cortland.

His arms around me.

His cum on my back.

My skin crawls, and the door closes behind me as I stumble into the room, my head still pounding.

I see the mini fridge tucked under Sloane’s lofted bed and I stagger toward it, sinking to my knees, trying to put last night in the basement of my memories.

But his fingers were inside of me.

He came on my back.

I taste bile in my throat, and I yank open Sloane’s fridge door, grabbing a bottle of water from the case we share.

I twist off the cap and slam the door shut, leaning against it as I gulp down the cold liquid.

I close my eyes and squeeze the plastic of the bottle between my fingers.

I drink until I can’t anymore, and I bring the bottle down, my knees to my chest. I’m in my jeans and hoodie from last night, and I smell him all over me.

Cedar. Pine.

A good night.

That’s what he used to smell like, anyway.

I cap the bottle, taking another steadying breath.

I’m going to take a shower. I’m going to go get coffee. One thing at a time.

Again, I feel that cum on my back.

Shower. Now.

I stand, taking the bottle with me, and walk to my desk, pulling my phone out from my hoodie pocket then plugging it into the charger. I set down the bottle, and I feel weak. Dehydrated.

Disgusting.

That hollowness is threatening to burst forth again, obliterating all the feelings of shame and anger. I sink down into my desk chair while my phone lights up, and I cradle my head in my hands.

“Don’t stop, Cortland.”

Did I say that? Would I say that?

But the truth is, I haven’t done anything with anyone since that night. Save for myself. And I like the idea of sex. I like getting myself off. If I hadn’t been so drunk, would I have even stopped him?

I slam my fist on the desk and the scissors jump in my pen cup. Closing my eyes, I can feel his tongue on my wrist.

Why are you even here, Cortland? Here, of all places?

And he’s with Maya.

He has a girlfriend and he brought me to his house. Why?

Nerves coil tight in my gut, twisting into knots.

I hear my phone vibrate against my desk and I pick my head up, reaching for it. I have a text from Sloane.

Eager for a distraction, I unlock my phone and read her message.

Sloane 3

Be there around lunch! I didn’t fuck him yet! YAY!

Despite myself, the corners of my mouth lift into a smile. If I throw myself into conversation about her, with her, I can forget last night ever happened.

But I know that’s not really going to work.

I can’t stop thinking about it.

Why did I even go?

For my friends. And then I left Sloane. Shitty friend.

Why did I drink so much?

Maybe that’s a question I don’t want to answer.

I bite the inside of my cheek, about to reply to Sloane, but before I can, another message comes through.

My heart nearly stops.

Cortland’s name shows up at the top of my screen.

I never changed my number. Never deleted his. Didn’t block him, either. The cops just showed up at his house and I let it go. Let him go.

I don’t take a breath as I open his message.

Cortland

Be a good girl. Put the blades away, and keep your mouth shut.

I inhale through my nose.

Out through my mouth.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

I drop my phone and stand, swiping my hand across my desk, the pen cup spilling with a clatter onto the floor, my pens and scissors scattering beneath my desk. My water bottle rolls to the edge and falls off, too, the cap bursting off and water splashing up my jeans.

I run my fingers through my hair, turning away from my desk. Pressure builds behind my eyes and I don’t want to cry for him.

I won’t.

Not again.

A full body shudder courses through me.

He touched me again.

I woke up in his arms.

A scream bubbles its way up through my mouth and I pull my hair, hard enough to make my eyes water.

At least I’m not crying because of him.

It’s from the pain.

And at least I’m not crying because last night, I slept good for the first time in a year.