Page 27
Story: Did They Break You
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
REMI
I have to climb up on the counter to snag the whiskey.
Someone calls my name down below with amusement laced through their tone, and other people are clapping, whistling loudly.
I know they can see part of my ass, a slice through the denim just below my cheek.
Something Silas would rip to shreds if he ever saw them.
But I keep them hidden until he’s away. When I can breathe a little easier. Whenever I’m with Cortland.
He’s the only reason I’m at this party.
And as I circle my fingers around the bottle, close the cabinet and hop down from the counter, my Chucks thudding on the floor, I’m glad I’m here.
I give a shallow bow as some guys from the football team and a few of their girlfriends clap and holler for me, sitting at the table in the dining room.
“I could’ve gotten that,” Cort says, his voice deep and low.
I roll my eyes as I meet his. He’s sitting at the head of the table, his arm hooked around the back of his chair, beer bottle in one hand, his other resting on the dark wooden table.
It’s the informal dining room. The Adlers have an official one that’s long and narrow with dim lights and a rectangular table covered with a burgundy runner that could seat like, sixteen people. I’ve got much the same at my own house.
But it’s never held that many people. No one but me and Silas, when he decides to grace me with his presence.
I hold up the bottle, shaking it a little, whiskey sloshing up the sides. “I think I did fine,” I tell Cort with a small smile.
He rolls his own eyes, mocking me as he takes a pull from his beer, his lip ring clinking against the rim of the bottle. For a second, as everyone gets back to drinking and smoking pot and making out, Cortland holds my gaze and I don’t move.
His eyes are lined with red, hooded and a little unfocused. I glance at the table, reluctantly breaking our eye contact, and see a few empty bottles lined up together. One has a joint in it. Cortland is a little high, and it makes me feel nervous.
In a good way.
Since our time together has been so limited, I’ve never really seen him let go. Always so easygoing and calm, I’ve often wondered what he’d be like if he just… lost it. Just like I’ve often wondered why my brain is so fucked up. Maybe all that horror has gone to my head.
Breaking me from my thoughts, someone starts yelling at the table, “Shots, shots, shots!” pounding their fists in time with the words.
I see Chase is leading the cry. He snags a bottle of rum from the center of the drinks on the table, and Brinklin, across from him, pushes the plastic shot cups his way.
Chase is a little shit. He treats girls poorly, slaps their ass and grabs their tits in the hallway, crowds them up against lockers. I don’t know why Cortland is friends with him.
“Come sit with me, baby.” Cort’s words stir something in me. He doesn’t raise his voice, just jerks his chin to his lap from across the room.
No one even looks up.
“Let’s do this shit,” Brinklin, across from Chase, is saying, raking a hand through his brown hair.
Then, sensing his friend isn’t paying attention, he turns to me, where I’m still holding the whiskey Cortland told me about and I wanted to try.
“Wanna play, pretty baby?” Brinklin taunts me, arching a brow.
I see Cort’s gaze shoot to his teammate at that nickname.
Then someone knocks into me, sending me flying a few steps. I whirl my head around just as Cort says, “Watch where you’re fucking going.”
Storm Leary, his light blue eyes flashing with amusement as he brings his joint to his lips, inhaling, the cherry glowing bright. “Sorry,” he says, exhaling through his pierced nose, not sounding sorry at all. “I’m kinda fucked up.”
My heart skips a beat as I take him in. He looks fucked up. His nose looks swollen, there are deep circles under his eyes. I know he’s got a weird home life. The rumors about his family are insane. But then again, him running into me… he’s always kind of a dick, so I’m not entirely surprised.
“Come take shots with us, Remi,” Chase croons as Storm walks around the table, taking a seat as Cort shoots him a glare.
My face flames as I see Chase staring at me. I hold up the whiskey. “No, I’m good. I’m sticking to this.” I toss them all a smile, feel Cortland’s gaze shift to me.
“I don’t wanna tell you again,” he says softly, and his friends whistle, Storm smirking as he gets high.
I’m both annoyed and turned on with Cort’s voice. His command. But maybe this is what I’ve been wanting to see. Him letting go.
Still holding the bottle, I sashay over to the table, trying to remain calm, but my stomach is flipping. Then I plant my ass in Cortland’s lap, and he rests a possessive hand on my hip, squeezing me hard enough to hurt.
Just a little.
“Why don’t you slow down, pretty baby?” he whispers against my neck, planting an open mouth kiss just above my collarbone.
A chill runs down my spine.
But I don’t listen.
I don’t slow down.
By the end of the night, I’m wishing I had.
“Did you know?” I ask Dr. Ravi, deciding to stop beating around the bush.
Ten minutes I’ve been sitting on this plush, cream-colored leather chair and ten minutes Dr. Ravi has asked me everything but the important questions behind her desk.
And now that I’ve woken up in his bed, let him walk me to my dorm, texted him in the night, and can’t get him out of my head, this is important.
She’s scribbled a few things down on her notepad, but now she drops her pen, her eyes coming to mine as she clasps her hands together over the notepad.
She doesn’t have a ring and although we’ve never discussed it, I don’t think she’s married.
I’d guess she’s in her late thirties, maybe early forties, and I wonder if she ever wants to be married or doesn’t give a fuck.
I wonder if I’d ever get to that point.
Trusting someone enough to bind myself to them in an official ceremony with a ring heavy on my finger. When I was stupider, I’d entertained that idea, with Cortland. Thinking he’d whisk me away from my stepdad and all of his bullshit.
It was just a pipe dream. One I knew, even then, would never come true.
“Know what?” she asks me.
I sit up straighter, glance at my backpack between my feet. I think of last night, his arm around my shoulder. How I told him we couldn’t do this. He texted me this morning but I’ve tried to avoid him the best I can.
I can still feel him. Still smell him. I felt safe walking with him.
And that night in his bed, I slept so good.
I haven’t discussed him at all with Dr. Ravi.
Haven’t talked about the party before school started. How I faced all of them. How I made Cortland bleed. How he got me back. His cum stuck to my skin.
I swallow it all down as I bring my gaze to hers. “That Cortland was back.” Saying his name makes me squirm.
Dr. Ravi doesn’t visibly show any sign of discomfort, but she takes a few moments to answer, and I know that’s her way of ensuring she says the most appropriate thing. I keep staring at her, itching to get out of this room and wanting to hear what she has to say all the same.
“Yes,” Dr. Ravi finally concedes. I knew she did, the way she reminded me of having her number the session before last, and how I ran into Cortland right after.
But still, hearing her confirm it feels a little like a betrayal.
Before I can say anything, though, she keeps talking.
“I did know, but I couldn’t disclose it to you at the time, as he isn’t a.
..” She takes a breath, dropping her gaze for a moment, her brows furrowed together, a line forming in her forehead. “An offender.”
I force myself to laugh and she looks up again, apprehension in her eyes. “Right,” I say, clenching my thighs with my hands. Again, I feel him on my back.
So similar to how Chase felt.
But different, too. And that’s what I don’t like most. To me, they’re different.
“Maybe I could transfer?” I throw out, even though I have no intention to do so.
The academic scholarship I have is too good to throw away, even for him.
Besides, my stepdad would never agree to fork over more money for me to abandon the year I’ve been here.
He’d see it as another failure. “Don’t be like your mother, Remi.
” The problem, I think, is he wanted me to be just like her.
“Or maybe I could drop out altogether.” I shrug, still holding Dr. Ravi’s gaze, the anger growing under my skin as I think about last night.
What I said about Maya.
Fucking Maya. I relapsed this morning. Looked up her social media, and saw she posted photos of them together the Friday night before school started. The Friday night he cornered me in the woods.
I’m so stupid. And so is he.
Dr. Ravi is staring at me, and it’s like she can read my mind, the way her gaze is so intense.
But she can’t know: I haven’t told anyone what I’m doing. How he keeps following me around. And I keep letting him. Why am I keeping his secrets? Since when did they become mine, too?
“I mean, he always wins in the end, doesn’t he?” I bite out.
Dr. Ravi shakes her head. “He doesn’t have to, Remi,” she says quietly. “Don’t give him that satisfaction. Letting him uproot your life all over again.”
I don’t think she’s supposed to say things like this, but I’m not going to stop her.
“You were here first,” she presses. “You’re majoring in English.” She folds her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair. “He isn’t. It’s both of your second years, you probably won’t see much of him as it is. You two can orbit far from one another.”
I chew my lip, looking down at my hands, wondering why I don’t just tell her about what happened.
“What are your thoughts on it?” she asks softly.
What would she think if I told her my thoughts? If I told her where I was last Friday night? The Monday before that at the gym, letting him touch me? And last night, texting him in bed?
Table of Contents
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