Page 9

His hand comes to the back of my neck, and he’s still kneading my breast. I know my nipple is hard beneath his fingers.

“You’re absolutely sure you want to go to this party?”

I’m panting, my face flushed, but I push myself closer into him. “I’m sure,” I tell him, breathless.

He laughs, his nose lined up with mine. “But you’re staying tonight, yeah?”

I nod, trying to force the fear of Silas finding out from my mind. But the idea of sleeping with Cortland, of being wrapped up in his arms, in his bed, it’s too good to resist. Besides, our lives change next week.

Who knows what’ll happen when he has more girls fawning over him in college?

But maybe I can convince him to stay with me.

It’s a girlish thought. Maybe a na?ve one. But I can’t help but cling to the magic of this moment.

“Good,” he says, his tongue tracing the outline of my mouth as his palm glides over my chest, gripping my other breast while I whimper again. “I don’t want you out of my fucking sight tonight.”

“One shot, Rems.” Van holds out a red plastic cup, flashing a white smile. “Just one.”

Sloane tips back her own cup, swallowing everything in it down. Then she raises it in the air, doing a little dance, her black skirt twirling as she spins. She tosses the cup into a big black trashcan in the clearing of Hyde Park, then turns back to me.

“Take it, Remi,” she says, planting her hands on her hips. Her hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, accentuating her cheekbones. She darts her eyes from the cup Van is offering up, to me. “Right now. Take it!”

“Take it, take it, take it,” Van chants, pounding a fist against his thigh with the cheer.

I swallow down my nerves and run a hand over my braids, shooting my gaze around the clearing.

There are a lot of people here. Probably a hundred or so, and the music is loud, so they’re louder. I see a lot of orange and black—EU colors—but I don’t see him.

Haven’t seen him since after therapy yesterday.

And I still haven’t told Sloane I saw him.

She hasn’t mentioned him. Van probably wouldn’t notice.

He hates sports, and although I confessed everything to him when we got high in the cemetery one night last year, he’s from Pennsylvania.

If Cortland Adler walked right by him, he wouldn’t recognize him.

I reach for the cup and swipe it from Van’s hand.

I’ve had a couple of drinks since that night, in the dorm with Sloane when she sneaks alcohol in. But the smell of vodka splashed with pineapple juice makes my stomach flip.

Even still, I know I won’t enjoy tonight if I don’t get a little buzzed. And I don’t want to ruin this for Van. Or Sloane.

Van’s talking to some chick named Ryann he met in his biology class last year who “accidentally” DM’d him some nudes over the summer while he was in Greece. Sloane keeps glancing over her shoulder, looking for the boy she’s seeing, Asa.

I tip my head up and glance at the canopy of trees over the park.

I think of Cortland.

Me in his lap.

Letting him kiss me.

I take a breath and down the drink.

Fuck him.

Van turns his dark blue gaze to me, his mouth wide open. “Damn, Remi,” he says with a smile, running a hand over his shaved head. “Do it again.” He takes the cup from my fingers, placing it on the picnic table at our side and reaching for the bottle of vodka.

Sloane claps her hands, then throws her arms around me and I stagger backward, inhaling her strawberry scent. “I’m so proud of you,” she says with a laugh, and I can smell the alcohol on her own breath.

I feel my drink burn down my throat, to my empty stomach. My appetite was bad before, but after seeing them, it’s worse. Me and Sloane are nearly the same height, with similar builds. We used to be able to share clothes.

Now, though, I only wear these hoodies, and I’m a few sizes smaller than her.

She releases me, then slides up the strap of her white cami that slipped down her arm. It’s a little chilly out, but she doesn’t seem to mind. I see her glance over her shoulder again and I smile as Van pours me another drink.

“Slo,” I say, and she turns back to me.

I grab her shoulders, already feeling the alcohol in my veins. “Go find him.”

Sloane smiles, pulling a strand of hair from her glossed lips. “No way, I’m not leaving you.”

Van pushes the second drink into my hand, and I take it, releasing Sloane. The woods are at my back and I have this strange urge to look over my shoulder, but I resist.

They’re not here.

I tip the cup back, swallowing down half of it before I lower it, flexing my fingers around the plastic and giving a silly bow.

“Seriously,” I dart my eyes between both of my friends, “go find who you need to?—”

“Nuh uh, Rems,” Van says, folding his arms over his chest. I see the tattoos on his arms flex as his muscles do. “We’re not leaving you.”

I roll my eyes, tip the rest of the drink back, and when I toss it into the trash behind me without looking, I point at Van, then Sloane.

“It’s not leaving me,” I tell them, dropping my hand.

I feel my buzz coming on already, and my lips pull into a smile.

“I’m telling you to go. Bring them over here to me,” I suggest, glancing at the crowd of people at their backs.

I don’t want to walk through that but I’d love to spend time with the people they’re dating.

Both Van and Sloane eye me skeptically, but I flop down on the bench seat and shove my hands into the pocket of my hoodie, circling my fingers around my phone. I nod my head. “Go on. I don’t need a babysitter. I’m an adult.” That word comes out a little slowly and I start laughing despite myself.

Sloane giggles, running her fingers through her hair. “Oh my god, Rems, are you already drunk?” she asks, excitement splashed over her words.

“Yep,” Van says, shaking his head, “not leaving you.”

I stick out my tongue and see Van’s eyes narrow in on my piercing.

“Put that thing back in your mouth before I teach you how to use it.”

My mouth drops open and my face flames as Sloane hits Van on the arm and he smirks at both of us. “Van, you’re a nightmare.”

My heart thrums a little faster in my chest and I feel light.

“Come on,” Sloane says, offering me her hand, “let’s go find Asa.”

Van pulls his phone out of his back pocket and glances down at the screen, lit up with a message. I see the spark in his eyes as he reads it.

“Van. Go get her,” I admonish him, hiccupping and clapping a hand over my mouth as I do.

He starts typing, glancing up at me with his fingers still flying over the screen, a smile on his face. “Are you sure you’re good Rems?”

“I’ve got her,” Sloane says easily, her hand still extended out to me. “Go get laid.”

Van laughs, but he starts walking backward, still texting. Probably to Ryann. “All right, all right, if you ladies insist.” He pockets his phone and holds my gaze. “Text me before you even think about leaving.”

I narrow my eyes at him and finally swat away Sloane’s hand. “Yes, Daddy,” I tell Van, then look to Sloane as he laughs, walking off. “Go find Asa. I know you want to.”

Sloane circles her fingers over my wrist and tugs, but I plant my Chucks on the ground, not letting her haul me to my feet.

“Just come with me.” She looks over her shoulder at the thick crowd of people, the music growing louder, a vape cloud hanging over the clearing.

Sloane’s green eyes find mine. “I don’t want to leave you. ”

If they say that one more time I might scream. “Seriously, Slo,” I yank my hand from her grip, not wanting to step foot in that crowd. “Go find him. Squeeze your tits together,” I glance down at her low-cut cami, “and bring him back over here when you’re done jamming your tongue down his throat.”

Sloane rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t even know if he’s used his dick before,” she mutters.

“Exactly the kinda man you want,” I tease her, only I’m not sure I’m really teasing.

I think of Cortland and Maya. How I was so ignorant to think he’d actually been interested in me.

We talked a lot in high school, occasionally had a class together.

He’d ask me about what I was reading, nod to me in the halls, helped me pick my Thrifty’s haul up once in this very park.

But where he seemed to relish in being surrounded by admirers, I found comfort in blending in.

And that night, in those woods, I’d wanted to do just that.

He made that impossible.

I blink those memories away, looking into my best friend’s eyes. “Go,” I tell her, meaning it. I want to catch my breath anyway. Being around so many people, whether I’m talking to them or not, it feels like a chore.

Sloane plucks her phone from her bra and waves it in front of my face. “Where’s yours?” she asks, arching a brow.

I slide my hand out of my hoodie pocket and show her I’m already clutching my phone tightly in my fingers.

Reluctantly, she nods. “All right,” she finally says, stepping away from me. “Look, Rems, I’ll be right?—”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” I cut her off, waving my hand. “The dorm is like five minutes from here. Worst case scenario, I just go home.”

She narrows her eyes, phone still in hand. “This is all a ploy isn’t it?” she accuses me, the corners of her beige lips turning up in a smile. “Get us out of your hair so you can walk home?”

Maybe. I shake my head, holding up three fingers. “Is not, scout’s honor,” I lie, considering doing just that when she leaves.

She sighs, as if she’s exasperated, then glances at the vodka bottle at my back, the sodas and mixers. “Just take it easy if you really are walking home, and text me before you do, okay?”

I nod once. “You got it, Mama.”

She steps closer, throwing her arms around me. “Smart ass,” she whispers in my ear before she pulls back. “I’ll be back soon.” She gives me one last lingering look before she turns and walks away, her calf-high boots clomping in the grass of the clearing as she sets off to hunt down Asa.

I exhale as I watch her go, relishing in the moment of solitude, even among all these people.

Then I stand, feeling a little lightheaded as I do from the alcohol.

A smile curves my lips with the feeling. It feels pretty good. And it helps me not think about them.

I reach for another cup from the sleeve of them, flip it over and grab the bottle of vodka by the neck. I only splash in a little, but then reconsider and add a tiny bit more.

Capping the bottle, I set it down, take a breath, and chug it all back, all on its own.

Gross, that’s nasty.

When I toss the cup in the trash, my face starts to feel pleasantly tingly, and I stare into the woods. Darkness, and silence beyond the next song. MGK playing in the clearing. “The Break Up.” And for one second, I’m back there again.

Alive. Whole. I’m running with Cortland. We’re both breathing hard, and it’s hot out. Humid. Warmer than it is now, even though it was a year ago. Just a little more.

I feel Storm watching us, behind me. He’s like a hunter.

But he’s safe, because I’m with Cort.

Then Cortland is pushing me against the tree, his mouth on my neck, and Storm is watching us, and I hear Chase and Brinklin coming closer and ? —

I blink, stepping further into the woods, away from the crowd.

It’s not safe. A voice in my head. You shouldn’t have had so much to drink.

Silas made sure to tell me that was my fault. I was to blame.

The drinking, my outfit the cops categorized as evidence, hanging out with boys like Cortland Adler and his friends. “What did you expect, Remi? That your smile and your brain were what they saw when they looked at you?”

My fault.

I take another step into the dark.

Before I know it, I can barely hear the music. I can’t see anything.

It’s pitch black, and I’m facing my fears.

There’s no one here. I’ve already seen the scariest monsters in the forest. Nothing could be worse than that. Wild animals? I met them, too.

I shiver in the dark, but I’m almost proud of myself. Of those drinks I took.

And as I think about that night, staring off into the darkness, I wonder, like I have so many times before, what would happen if he apologized.

Then, what part of the night I regret the most. The detectives asked me about it. My regret. About when I started to cry. When it became a crime.

My stepdad’s hands were in my mind.

I told them I didn’t want any of it. I didn’t want that.

Is he sorry? Does he regret it? Would he do it differently? That’s what I wanted to ask the detectives. I didn’t care about the position of his hands, or what I was wearing, or how many drinks I had and how far apart.

Does he feel bad? That’s what I want to know.

I think of his hands on me yesterday, and I think I know the answer to that question. Anger thrums through me, but it doesn’t last long. I’m tired of being angry.

I just want life back.

As I lean against the tree beside me, the alcohol making my exhausted body feel heavy, I start to think Storm and Cortland were a bad dream. Maybe they weren’t really here.

The flashbacks came that way sometimes.

Like I was hallucinating. My drunk brain tries to tell me just that. It was a dream.

But then I hear something at my back. The snap of a branch.

Footsteps.

A low laugh.

And I feel something undeniably real.

A hand around my throat, someone’s body pressing against mine. Words in my ear.

“Why do you make it so easy to fuck with you, Rems?”

Before I can react, Cortland’s other hand comes over my mouth, pulling me back into him.

“Save that mouth for later. You’re gonna need it.”