Page 24 of Palm South University: Season 3

My heart’s still racing when the cab drops me off, and I walk as best I can with my ankles still shaking as I make my way to the entrance. Before I can tug the door open, Clinton flies out it, ushering me to the side of the building while casting a look over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t seen.

“Uh, hi to you, too, Bear. Care to tell me why you’re blocking my entrance to Ralph’s and sneaking around like a 007 agent?”

“Skyler doesn’t need you,” he says. “There’s a surprise party inside. For your birthday.”

My racing heart stops altogether at his words, deflating like a balloon as I cover my face with one hand and groan. “No. No, no, no, I don’twanta party.”

“I know. I know, that’s why I stopped you before you went in. I didn’t want you to get overwhelmed.”

He’s dressed in a bright orange polo and dark jeans, his sneakers matching his shirt, and a flat-billed hat finishing off the look. His cologne is strong and sweet, making me want to curl into him, my body reacting to the way his large arms nearly burst out of his sleeves before I can remind myself why that’s a stupid reaction to have.

“Look,” he says, bending down a little to catch my eyes with his. His hands find my arms and he steadies me, squeezing them gently. “Just pop in, act surprised, stay for a drink and then you can fake sick and I’ll take you home, okay?”

“No,” I say automatically. Ten minutes ago, I could have done what he was asking, but after running into Landon, just standing on my own is taking everything I have. “I can’t.”

“Come on,” he urges. “Your sisters planned this for you. It’s your twenty-first birthday, Erin. Just have a drink and—”

“I DON’T WANT A DRINK!” I scream, breaking loose from his hold on me. “That last time I drank I was fuckingraped, Bear,” I remind him, my voice cracking on the word as tears threaten to break. I hold them back, not wanting to let the pain out. “And the time before that, I…”

My voice trails off, realizing what I was about to say, but Clinton doesn’t let it go.

“You what? Slept with me?”

I shake my head, biting back the tears and wishing I could tell him it’s so much more than that. If he only knew what happened after, he would understand.

But it would also kill him.

And he doesn’t deserve that.

He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest with his eyes on the parking lot behind me. “Fine. Just leave. I’ll tell them you got food poisoning and you were throwing up the minute the cab dropped you off so I sent you back.”

I nod, glancing at him with the only thank you I have in my eyes. I can’t say another word, and he doesn’t ask for one, just sighs and shakes his head as he starts toward the entrance again. I take out my phone to call the cab back, but before I can dial the number, his voice stops me.

“I know what happened that night, Erin. I was there. I saw it,” he reminds me, his voice the shaky one now. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m pushing. You may have toughened your skin over the summer and shoved all your feelings on it down into some box with a bolted lid, but one day that lid is going to pop off from the pressure, and I just want you to know you have someone to go to when it does.”

His words are like numbing cream, drying up my tears as I hold the phone to my ear to order another cab and he disappears inside again without another look from me. He may believe he’s right, but I can’t — because going through the pain of opening that box again would be more than I could handle. It would kill me, and I’m not ready to die.

So, as I climb into the back of the new cab, I seal the box shut a little tighter, add a few more bolts, and swallow back the tears I never want to let fall again.

Maybe someone can see my scars, after all.