Page 13

M usic thumps in my headphones as I stroll through campus with my hood up, head down, and hands in my joggers pockets, heading toward World History. The class I have with some of my teammates, along with Lumi, Blair, and Alora.

This will be the first time I’ll actually face her since that day in the elevator. I’ve been avoiding her like it’s my job.

I’m confused enough with the emotions going through me without seeing her. But I can’t do that forever, especially if I want to keep my grades up for my scholarship.

When I walk beneath a large willow tree, a few drops of this morning’s rain trickle down onto my shoulders, the gloominess of the day matching how I feel inside.

A sense of dread always begins weighing me down this time of year. Nearing Micah’s birthday and the anniversary of his death brings all the darkness to the surface. Like the demons inside of me know I’ll be weak for a little while and take advantage—letting their anger out on anyone in our path.

Usually, during this time, I distance myself and isolate from everyone in my life. But last year, when I was ready to do the same, Griffin knew something was up and refused to let me be alone. The man slept on the floor of my dorm for three nights straight and woke me from my nightmares, and I from his. That stretch of a few days transformed our relationship completely, and we realized we were far more alike than we ever could have imagined.

He’s my best friend, and I trust him with my past and pain—most of it anyway. Since last year, we’ve been inseparable. Except for when he’s with Blair, I suppose.

I couldn’t be happier for those two though. They’re a perfect balance to each other. I’ve never seen Griffin smile as much as he does when he’s with her.

They’ve got something really special.

Somehow, those two lovebirds allowed me to move in. The dorms had been killing me. I couldn’t stand the noise and parties constantly going on. Which is ironic since I’m typically the first one to agree to attend them.

It wouldn’t usually bother me, but my quiet, safe space became anything but. Sometimes, my mind is too loud, and I either need complete silence around me to help calm me or I need overstimulation to drown everything out. There’s no real in-between, which can be rather frustrating when I don’t even know which one I need.

It’s been a lot better since they let me move in though. I have my tiny section of the mansion I stick to. I have everything I need. I don’t think me living there is ever going to become a problem for them, but getting me to leave might. Because it’s going to be damn hard to walk away from those amenities.

I’ve been lost in my mind all morning, running my brain ragged with nonstop thoughts—anything I can do to distract myself from the growing wound reopening in my heart.

I wish I could just black out and skip this part of the year and wake up after the fact. I feel like that would be less painful. Both for me and everyone around me.

My chest tightens as I stride into class. Alora’s doe-eyed gaze locks on to me immediately. I stop in my tracks without meaning to. Her stare is blank and unreadable. But I can’t miss it—the glimmer of hope in her eyes. My chest twists tighter.

She can’t have hope that whatever happened in her dorm has changed something between us.

It hasn’t, and it won’t.

Right?

The class is nearly full already, but my seat between Asher and Griffin is waiting for me.

Needing to kill that hopefulness, I tear my gaze from her without so much as blinking and glance to the ground as I walk to the second row.

Slipping one side of my headphones off of my ear, I step past a few smiling girls, giving them a wave, and they giggle in response.

Walking past Dean and Asher, I drop into my seat, setting my backpack on the ground by my feet.

Griffin immediately greets me. “About time. Thought you weren’t going to make it.”

“Funny,” I mutter, slipping my headphones off, folding them up and tucking them into my sweatshirt pocket. “The professor’s not even here yet. We still have, like, three minutes.”

His stare lingers for a second too long, and I can feel the concern in the weight of his gaze.

He leans over, turning his head to the side so only I can hear what he’s about to say. “You all right, man?”

I shoo his concern away with a nonchalant shrug. “I’m fine.”

“You know I’m here whenever you need. Even if you just need someone to listen. Don’t bottle it up,” he murmurs.

His kind words would probably soften anyone else, but all they do is lock down my heart even more, the thorns of my emotional barricade tightening and constricting more by the second. It’s not his fault though; it’s my own fucked-up brain’s.

Nodding sharply once, I take my notebook out of my bag, along with a pen. Setting it on my notebook, I bend back down to get my water bottle and bump the desk. As if frozen, I watch in slow motion as it rolls off of the notebook and drops to the ground … right beneath Alora’s seat.

Fucking great .

It makes a loud sound as it hits the metal of her chair leg. She glances down and picks it up.

Just keep it. Just keep it and never turn around.

Sliding her arm across the top of the backrest, she twists in her chair and looks up at Griffin. “Did you drop this?”

He shakes his head, glancing at me. “It’s Malik’s.”

Clenching and unclenching my jaw, I fight the urge to look straight down at her as her attention shifts to me. But when I see the redness around her eyes, I stare unabashedly.

She lifts it in the air toward me, and as I reach out, my eyes fall to the letters tattooed on my right hand’s knuckles— M on my thumb, I on my pointer finger, C on my middle finger, and so on as Micah’s name is spelled on my skin.

A surge of anger floods my system as I remember who she is. One of them . The ones who look down on everyone beneath them.

Someone who will never understand what my life is like. Who could never understand why I am the way I am.

“Here,” she murmurs softly.

Taking the pen, I snap, “Thanks.”

Her eyebrows twitch. “You’re welcome.”

The next words flow from me without thought. I want her to feel as badly as I do. As badly as she deserves to feel. “What’s wrong? Crying because Daddy cut down your allowance?”

She sucks in a sharp and pained breath.

Blair’s head whips around. “Malik! What the hell?”

Alora doesn’t turn back around or shrink. If anything, she sits up taller as a cold mask shifts over her face.

“Fuck you,” she grumbles, her teeth grinding together.

Leaning down and over the small swinging desktop, I prop my head in my hand. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Hmm? I bet you’d even beg me for it.” I squint my eyes at her as I feel everyone around us shift to watch.

“Mal.” Griffin utters my name like a warning, but I ignore it.

Asher and Dean sit up straighter to my right, and I can feel the agitation coming from Ash. I know he has a fondness for her, one I wish would die.

She stands from her desk and turns completely to face me. But I still have the high ground, being on the second level.

She leans up on her toes and over the divider. Grabbing the neck of my hoodie, she pulls me forward as she gets in my face. “I think it’s you who wants that. You’re just too embarrassed to admit it to yourself.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I hold my hands up, but she doesn’t let go of my sweatshirt. I chuckle darkly. “Don’t get mad at me just because Daddy won’t buy you a new mansion or private island or whatever dumb shit you want to waste money on.”

Her head cocks to the side as she swallows hard, yanking my head further forward. “You don’t know anything about me, Malik. You never have. All you’ve done is spent years painting this image of who I am in your mind.”

She tugs me toward her even more, the desktop digging into my abs as she continues, “Otherwise, you’d know that before yesterday, I hadn’t seen him in almost two years, you asshole because he shipped me to Avandale to live with my aunts after I turned eighteen before senior year.” Her eyes start welling with tears. “But, no, please keep going on about my dad’s money. That seems to be all you’ve ever focused on anyway.”

I’m speechless, unsure of what to even say back to that.

Could I actually have been wrong about her?

I scoff at the thought.

No. No way.

Her dog stands up and nudges her leg, drawing her attention away from me. She releases her grasp on my hoodie without looking my way again.

Blair’s stare slices into me, more painful than I was expecting, and I sit back in my seat, averting my gaze.

She mumbles something to Alora before Alora gathers her things and stands up, walking out of the room with haste.

“Lumi, go with her. I’ll be right there,” Blair says, hooking her backpack on her shoulders, her posture rigid.

Scoffing at Blair, I cross my arms. “Not like you to miss a class?—”

She cuts me off and juts a finger toward me. “Get your shit together, Malik. And stop being such an asshole to her.”

“Blair, chill the hell out?—”

“Malik,” Griffin’s deep voice grumbles next to me, “watch your fucking tone. I’m done giving you warnings.”

Blair turns and strides out of the room after Alora, Lumi, and the golden retriever.

Tucking my hands in my hoodie pocket, I clench my fists, reminding myself to calm down. But it’s not working.

My goddamn anxiety is spiking, and it’s only pissing me off even more.

Griffin leans in closer to me, his voice soft yet firm. “Bro, I know this is a bad time for you, okay? And I get that. But you can’t keep lashing out at Alora and especially not at Blair. There’s only so much I’m going to let you get away with.”

Everything inside of me is shutting down. Every emotion and sense of security. I’m a fortress, and even he isn’t getting past my walls.

“Then maybe she should stay out of my and Alora’s business,” I snap, turning my head to fully face him.

He bares his teeth. “ Mal .” He pauses and takes a quick breath. “Get your shit. You’re coming with me.”

“The hell I am.” I scoff. “We have class.”

“Shut up. Stop pretending like you actually care. You can get notes from Ash or D.” He groans and runs his hand down his face. “For once in your goddamn life, just cooperate.”

I consider his offer for a moment. I mean, I would rather be anywhere else but sitting in this boring-ass class right now, especially with the rage pulsing in my veins.

“Fine,” I concede, grabbing my backpack and rising to my feet.

Storming out of the room, I rush outside into the gloomy, cold weather and scurry down the steps, stopping at the bottom as I wait for Griffin to catch up.

A moment later, he bursts through the door and joins me.

“What’s your grand plan?”

“Stop being a smart-ass, Malik. I’m trying to help you.” He grinds his words out as he passes. “Now hurry the fuck up.”

“Where are we going?” I stride after him, less enthusiastically as him.

“To the rink. I figure there’s no place I feel more at home. It’s the same for you. And if you need to hit something to get some of that anger out, you can hit me. I can take it.” He keeps walking forward toward the arena without looking back.

I follow behind him as we walk to Kensington Arena, the campus arena, paid for by Asher and Dean‘s family, where we quickly lace up and get on the empty ice in just our hoodies and joggers, no gear.

Twisting my stick in my hands, I smack it on the ice lightly, and he passes a puck to me. We skate around silently, passing the puck back and forth and shooting it into the net every now and then.

We understand each other here, like we’re speaking a different language—hockey. Every hockey player feels at peace on the ice. We may feel a lot of other things during games or practice, but it feels right either way, like this is where we’re meant to be.

Guilt strikes me like an arrow as the adrenaline in my veins begins to dissipate. I don’t deserve a friend as good as him. Especially with how I just spoke to his girl.

Coming to a stop, I look up at him. “Griffin, I’m sorry, man. I’ll apologize to Blair too; don’t worry. But I’m sorry. I’ve been a real pain in the ass.”

He chuckles. “That’s an understatement. But we put up with your shit because we love you, man.”

He waits, leaving a moment of silence for me to decide if I want to stay quiet or share more. I choose the latter.

“Look …” I bite down on my bottom lip, still hesitant to tell anyone the truth about Alora.

Gliding toward the bench, I lean down on the board, resting against my arms.

“Malik, whatever you need to say, say it. I, of all people, won’t ever judge you. You know that. Just talk to me.” He skates over and mimics me, leaning against the board.

“Fuck,” I inaudibly whisper, rubbing my eyes with frustration that I can’t even form one word about it. “It’s complicated.”

“I know I’m not the smartest guy ever, but do your best. I’ll try to keep up.”

He grins at me, and I chuckle hauntingly.

“Alora and I went to high school together.” I spin around and lean backward against the divider. “She transferred during her senior year.” I scoff. “You know, I actually kind of liked her at first.” I swallow hard. “But then I learned who she really was, the daughter of Congressman Briarwood.”

He pushes off against the board and leans back beside me as I continue, “I’ve never told anyone this, Griffin. You have to keep it between us.”

He studies me for a moment, realizes I’m being dead serious, and nods. “Of course.”

“The Briarwoods had something to do with Micah’s death.”

* * *

After talking to Griffin, I really do start to feel a lot better, which is an unexpected surprise. But I also feel like the reason the weight seems to be lighter is because I forced him to carry some of it. A burden that’s not his to bear.

“See you in a few.” Griffin walks across the parking lot to his pickup as I slide in my Corvette and close the door, bringing the engine to life.

The drive home is beautiful. The sun is already set, stars and the moon glowing up in the sky.

The air is nice and crisp, not too cold, but not too warm. It’s perfect. Calm.

Exactly what I need right now. I’m tired. Emotionally, physically, I’m wiped. I just want to go home and crash after eating dinner.

By the time I pull into the driveway, I feel gravity harder than ever as the exhaustion from today starts to fully set in.

Finishing ascending the ridiculous set of stairs to the front door, I walk inside.

“Malik …” Blair widens her eyes as soon as she sees me, stopping dead in her tracks as she walks out of the kitchen with two glasses of water.

I actually need to apologize to her, so this works out. “Hey, can I talk to you quickly?”

Her mouth starts to form words, but nothing comes out. A beat of silence later, she murmurs, “I thought you guys were practicing later than this tonight.”

Weird . “Nope. Why? What’s going on?”

“Blair, is this okay to borrow? I’ll bring them back to you once I can get home and change.” Alora walks around the corner, smiling, but the moment she realizes I’m standing here, she freezes, her smile quickly withering away.

“Why are you here?” My question slices through the air, my words sharp and jagged as I step past Blair.

Blair purses her lips, answering for Alora. “We were studying and working on homework together. And then we were painting with Chip, and it ended in a little paint fight. Anyway, it’s not just your house, Malik.” She says my name like a warning.

Alora slowly walks closer to Blair, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment most likely. She whispers something to Blair.

“No, you don’t have to go. Seriously, this is my house more than it is his. He can”—she raises her voice—“grow up!”

Alora’s hair is up in a low, messy bun with loose, wavy strands pointing every which way. I have to stop the thought that I think it looks good like that.

The sweatshirt she’s wearing instantly catches my attention, the Legends hoodie looking oddly familiar. “So, why in the hell are you wearing my sweatshirt?”

Blair studies her for a moment. “It must have gotten mixed in with my laundry. I had to get her a change of clothes from the dryer after the painting incident with Chip.”

Walking across the foyer, I’m once again reminded of our height difference as I stare down at her, a foot between us.

Fuck, she looks good in my hoodie.

But this isn’t right. None of this is right.

Embers burn in her gaze as she looks up at me with firmly sealed lips. “I would never have chosen this had I known it was yours .”

A smirk forms on my lips as I huff, a soft chuckle escaping. “Sure. Then give it back.”

I challenge her, knowing she’ll probably back down or say something snarky and insist on leaving with it—both sounding like a win in my book.

Her eyes ignite, and her spine straightens. “With pleasure .”

Crossing my arms, I expect her to walk away. But instead, she surprises me.

Grabbing the bottom of the hoodie, she lifts it up and rips it off of her body with haste. Thrusting it into my chest, she makes sure to add some extra force behind it. “Here. Happy?”

Her cheeks redden even more, and I’m starting to think it was never from embarrassment but rather frustration.

My eyes are traveling before I even realize it … down her taut neck to the lacy pink bra that is now on full display. They cup her big tits, and my fingers twitch, wanting to do the same.

Stop it.

Licking my bottom lip, I suck it between my teeth and force my gaze back up her chest to her eyes … her blown pupils and parted lips.

She knows what she’s doing … teasing me. Taunting me. Asking me to make a move.

I hate it.

Fuck .

I love it.

“Much happier.” I toss the sweatshirt over my shoulder.

She huffs out a quick breath and turns on her heel, giving me a show with her full hips as they sway with her strut to the laundry room.

Before she disappears around the corner, she lifts her hand in the air and flips me off with her back to me.

I chuckle, feeling an odd and unexpected burst of pride on her behalf.

Blair doesn’t waste any time getting in my face, her voice an angry whisper. “Malik, I get that you don’t like her. Fine. I’ll be better about having her over when you’re not here. But can you try to behave like a decent human being? I know that you have it in you.”

“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” I clutch my heart.

The front door swings open across the grand foyer, and Griffin walks through with no clue of what’s happening. “I got pizza!” As he takes in Blair’s annoyance, he pauses. “What’s, uhh … what’s going on?”

“Alora’s here,” I grit out.

Griffin winces, understanding with his newfound knowledge of our situation. “Oh.”

Speak of the devil …

She walks back out, and my jaw fucking unhinges.

She’s wearing a Legends T-shirt.

Yet again … one of mine .

Only this time, it’s missing the bottom half.

“Alora,” I growl, “tell me you didn’t just cut one of my favorite shirts in half.”

Griffin bursts out laughing behind me, and I glare at him, my jaw clenching.

She winces playfully, teasing me with her sarcasm. “ Oops . I thought it was one of Blair’s.”

I step toward her. “You’re such a bad liar.”

The only consolation is that at least my last name is on her back so everyone knows who she belongs to.

She winks at me and saunters closer. “Guess you’ll have to find a new favorite. Although you might be able to pull off a crop top. If you ever get it back.”

This girl is going to be the death of me.

When I glance at Blair, who is now having a full-blown giggle fit, she looks up at me with no remorse. “I’m sorry. But that’s hilarious.”

She looks back at Alora, and her face falls. “Alora? Are you okay?”

My head whips toward her.

She’s suddenly gone pale, the rosiness from her cheeks out of sight. Blinking rapidly, she takes a few slow steps toward the sitting room behind me.

“What’s happening right now?” Griffin asks, genuinely concerned.

Blair rushes to her side and hooks an arm around her waist, helping her walk. “Griffin, get me a glass of water right now, please.”

My heart starts to race.

Blair stumbles forward, and in a split second, I realize what’s happening.

Lunging forward, I reach out and catch Alora in my arms as she collapses toward the ground.

My heart jumps into my throat, and an aching-choking sensation wraps around my neck.

Scooping her legs up, I cradle her against my chest.

“What’s happening? Blair?!” I shout at her, panic raking through my body like hot coals.

“Take her to the couch and lay her down,” she instructs me with odd calmness. “She’ll be okay. She’ll wake up in a second.”

Striding as long as my legs can manage, I gently carry her into the living room and lay her down on the navy-blue sofa.

Blair throws a pillow at me from the other couch, followed by another. “Put them under her legs.”

“Okay.” I do as told, my palms sweating as I drop to my knees on the side of the sofa, my anxiety at an all-time high.

Brushing her hair from her face, I lift her head up slightly, not wanting her to choke on her spit when she comes to.

“Blair,” I call out, “why are you acting like this is so normal?” I demand her answer, a beat of anger pulsing behind my words that she hid something like this from me.

She looks at me like I’m stupid. “You really don’t know? You went to school with her,” she says in disbelief. “You’ve seen Sunny, her dog How have you not put two and two together, you idiot ?”

“Know what?” I whisper, racking through the memories in my mind for things that align with this. “She never passed out in school.”

“She probably just did a really good job of hiding it. I don’t think she had Sunny until after graduation.”

Griffin walks in with a glass of water.

“She has POTS—postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” I mumble, an odd sensation of guilt sweeping over me. “What is it? What does it do?”

“It affects her heart.” Her words rush past her lips. “Malik, now is not the best time for a study session, okay? Just take a breath.”

Cupping her cheeks, I take a shuddering breath.

“Blair,” I whisper, and her gaze softens. Something breaks in my chest, pain radiating outward. “Did … did I do this?”

She hesitates, and her hesitation gives me enough of an answer to dig the knife deeper in my chest. “It’s complicated. But stress can elevate her symptoms, yes.”

“Fuck.” I force the word out with my sharp exhale, my hands threading into the sides of my hair.

When I glance down at Alora, her eyelids flutter open slowly. She blinks, her stare blank.

Taking slow, deep breaths, she mumbles, “W-water.”

Blair pushes me out of the way, and I back up without protest, letting her do whatever she needs to help.

“Right here.” Blair hands her the glass.

“Sorry. I thought I was going to be able to make it,” she apologizes, and I wince, standing to my feet.

Griffin looks over at me, his stare deep with emotion. He twitches his eyebrows, and I can practically hear him ask if I’m okay.

I nod and look away, feeling more vulnerable than I’d like.

What the fuck just happened?

“I’ll be okay in a few minutes. And then I can call someone to come get me.”

Who?

No.

Blair and Griffin are going to a movie tonight in the opposite direction of campus, so I know there’s only one person here who can take her.

Fuck . I shouldn’t do this.

“I’ll give you a ride.”

My offer shocks the room, all three heads turning my way.

“It’s fine. I can have someone?—”

“I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t mean it,” I cut her off. “Let me know when you’re ready to go.”

Strolling out of the room with haste and without another word from anyone, I make the small trek to my room and lock myself inside, sinking down to the floor beside my bed, clutching my heart as my breaths heave in and out.

“Fuck!” I smack my hand on the ground.

Dropping my head into my hands, I close my eyes and take a few slow, steady breaths.

My heart is pounding out of control, and I have no idea why. But I need to get a grip.

Resting my cheek against the black comforter hanging off the side, and my stare lands on the row of framed butterflies on the fireplace mantel across from me, his photo centered between them all.

My jaw clenches.

Micah.

The image of him appears in my mind, as if he were standing before me. His black hair and purple eyes, so similar to mine. But he was so much younger and so much livelier. Innocent in the best ways.

God, I wish he were here to tell me what to do, to tell me how to act. All this time, I’ve been lost without him, and I don’t think I’m ever going to be the same again.

Instead, I’ll be broken and shattered like glass, trapped in a prison of rage and hatred that I’ll never escape. The anger flares up inside of me, overpowering whatever else I was feeling before. It reminds me of why I hate Alora, of what she and her family have taken from me.

Who cares if she has problems of her own? So do I.

Someone knocks on my door. Probably Griffin to see how I’m doing.

Rising to my feet, I walk over to the door and pull it open. My nostrils flare as my gaze falls to her .

“Umm, I’m good to go when you are.” She’s nervous, her voice shaky. Her stare falls to my chest and then behind me. “Are those … butterflies?”

Something inside of me snaps, the villain within rising to the surface with vengeance.

Stepping in front of her, I block her view, and her eyes flick back up to mine.

“Get the fuck out of here.”

Her face distorts in confusion. “You said you were going to give me a ride.”

I shrug and laugh. “Yeah, well, I changed my mind. Call whoever you want. Don’t let me catch you near my room again.”

Her jaw unhinges, and she looks up at me with such pain … pain that I caused her. But I haven’t cared for years, and that hasn’t changed.

Right?

It can’t. I won’t let it. I refuse to become a pawn in Briarwood’s game.

Slamming the door in her face, I turn around and go back to my spot on the floor, staring at the photos of Micah as every shred of respect I have for myself falls to the ground.

He would hate who I am now, who I’ve become.

It’s probably a good thing he’s not here to see me. He’d be so disappointed.

Walking on my knees to the fireplace, I grab his photo from the mantel and pull it against my chest as I go back to the bed and fall back on it.

A dam bursts behind my eyes, and a wail tears through my chest. Rocking back and forth does little to ease the agony. Tears drop from my lashes, chin, and nose.

I don’t want to live in a world without him. I never have. I wish it had been me that night. If only I had been on that side of the sidewalk, I would have been the one to die. The way it should have been.