Rising up slowly, I take in Liam and Jolena. With his back to me, he’s leaned down toward her small frame, and she’s taking a step back from him, crossing her arms over her chest.
Oh, drama.
Not able to hear them, I settle back on my heels and maneuver down one more flight, trying to be a ninja.
Jolena’s voice reaches me. “Brooklyn said you were flirting with that Brandy girl in your English class.”
He scoffs. “Come on, I asked her for a pen. A pen. Brooklyn is stirring up trouble.”
“Is she? What about the girl this summer? The one who kept texting you?”
His voice lowers. “I explained that already. Don’t make me repeat it.”
She lets out a frustrated noise.
“Ah, baby…” he murmurs.
She says something with intensity, her voice low and garbled.
A long pause, then, “Don’t preach to me, Jo. Knox will get over it, or if he doesn’t, I don’t care. He hit me—over her. Don’t you take his side because you screwed him once. Yeah, you think I don’t think about that every time I see him?”
She mumbles something. It sounds like I love you.
Liam tilts her chin up. “I know, baby. I love you too.”
Gag.
“He thinks he runs this place, but I’m the star around here, and we never would have won the games we did if it wasn’t for my defense.”
It rankles that I can’t see his expression, and I wish I could see his face, see his black eye.
She puts her hand on her hip, and I start when I hear my name.
His voice tightens. “Can I help it that she was all over me that night? You know how girls are with me. I always tell them no, baby. Always. You’re my number one. I left that party with Dane and we crashed at my house. I never touched her. I had my wingman with me, all night.”
Huh. She can’t get past the video, and I don’t even remember dancing with him!
My eyes shut as dark thoughts seep in. No matter how many times I tell myself it wasn’t my fault, bitterness rears up and I recall that I did dance with football players. I drank a lot of alcohol, some of it mine, some of it someone else’s. I DID. I own that.
But for someone to use me…no, no, no.
They kiss. Full-on tongue. Gross.
No way am I staying for a porno.
I inch away to leave, and a clatter sounds as my phone falls out of my pocket and crashes onto the concrete floor next to me. The make-out noises stop and I cringe, trying to back away while snatching up my phone. I hear the stairwell door bursting open where they are. Relief washes over me.
Still in stealth mode, I risk another peek and see Jolena still there, her shoulders hunched as she pulls a compact out of her purse to fix her lipstick. Her hands shake as she sucks in a deep breath and pats at her auburn hair.
I frown, having a little epiphany as I crouch down. Where’s her pride? Her self-love? She reminds me of Mama, accepting excuses when someone treats her horribly, pretending he isn’t doing her wrong. Money and a pretty face and her queen bee status sure haven’t gotten her much. She left me at that party and I seethe whenever I think about it, but part of me, I realize, pities her.
Forgetting her, I take off again, opening the doors to the third floor. Utter silence meets me until I turn the corner and run smack dab into a broad chest covered by a white button-down shirt, one that smells like pine.
I look up into gray eyes, taking in the manbun and handsome angular jaw.
“Watch where you’re going, sweetheart,” Dane says. “You never know who’s up here.”
The hall is empty, and he’s too close to me, our chests almost touching. It’s the first time I’ve been alone with him with no one around, and I push him away from me, harder than I meant to, making him stumble.
He straightens, tosses his head back, and laughs, running his eyes over my hair and face. “I see why he’s drawn to you.”
My teeth clench. “Who?”
“You know who.”
“Just stay away from me,” I call out, my voice more shrill than I intend.
His eyes narrow. “Don’t hurt him, Ava. Don’t mess with my brother.”
What? “You’re crazy.”
He lets out a gruff sound. “You don’t know the shit he’s been through. He acts like it doesn’t bother him, holds it in so tight I’m afraid he’s going to crack someday, but he’s got a heart. He does, and if you even think for a minute you’re gonna possibly ruin his last chance at playing football—”
I shake my head. “What on earth are you talking about? How can I hurt your brother? He’s the one playing hot and cold with me!”
He clamps his mouth shut. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”
“Are you in some delusional world where you think I have power over him?”
He taps his hand against his leg, those flinty, dilated eyes on my face.
“You’re high. Back off and leave me alone.” I whip around to go in the opposite direction—
“Ava!” There’s a desperate quality to his voice that forces me to turn around and answer.
My fists curl. “What?”
His face is weird, drawn up and twisted, strangely vulnerable.
“What is it? Say it!”
He closes his eyes briefly as if he’s waiting for me to disappear, but I hold steady, feeling as if I can’t move. He’s got something to say.
“Knox went to every single football player’s house after you went to the police. He raked them over the coals, even the seniors who are gone now. He pissed off the team. We lost games because he pointed his fingers hard at every guy who danced with you, including me.”
Confusion pummels me. Why? Why would he feel responsible for me?
Forget that.
My chest rises. “Was it you?” I snap out. “Apparently I was all over you and I have no memory of it. Don’t think I missed anything.” I eye him up and down and scoff. I’m brave right now, so brave, because he…he looks as if he’s in some kind of internal war with himself.
He swallows and looks away from me, his throat bobbing. “I’m not…like …that. You aren’t the only one who doesn’t remember much from that night.”
I’m walking away when his voice reaches me, that tinge of anguish back. “Ava, wait.”
I ignore him, keeping my back to him as I hold my arm up and flip him off.
His next words make me freeze. “Knox hired a private investigator to look into that night. Nobody knows but me and our dad, but he followed up with him for three months, trying to get to the bottom of what happened, and I don’t even know why he cares except that he…” He trails off and I turn around.
“Why would he care so much?”
He shakes his head.
“Why?” I yell, putting steel in my voice.
He flinches. “Shit. Our mom was assaulted. Like you.”
The air is sucked out of the hallway and I gasp, my hands holding my chest. I study Dane’s face. “I didn’t know.”
“Hardly anyone does.” He stares at a point over my shoulder and clenches his fist, seeming to try to gather himself. He does a bad job of it because his hands shake as he stuffs them in his pants. “She was a pianist for the Nashville Symphony. She came out a side door at night after a concert to get to her car and two guys…they…they…” He takes a shuddering breath. “They broke her arm. Cracked ribs. She was in the hospital for a few days…” He gasps out, “They raped her and left her in an alley.”
Horror claws at my throat at those images, making me sick. I take deep breaths, trying to align this new information in my head and process what it means. “Dane…I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t really hear me, I think, or he doesn’t acknowledge it. He continues, the words sounding as if they’re being wrenched from him by force. “My dad kept most of it out of the papers, but that fear on her face when it got dark, when she’d double then triple-check all the doors in the house, when she’d sit and just look off into space…I saw that. Knox saw that. Once, in the middle of the night, she drove to where it happened and wandered around the streets in her nightgown and bare feet. She was never the same. My dad isn’t the same.” He closes his eyes and sighs heavily. “Fuck all of it.”
Then he’s edging past me, kicking open the door to the stairwell and disappearing.
Trying to wrap my head around the new information, I don’t even realize I’ve stepped into the dark auditorium, blinking to adjust to the change from the bright lights of the hallway.
Their mom was raped. Like me.
I can’t—I can’t think about it right now.
My eyes sweep over the cavernous space, taking in the plush new seats, the wide stage with deep black curtains on either side. Written up above in old-style Greek letters is Camden Prep. I focus on the stage, lingering on the spotlight equipment poised in the rafters, just waiting to bathe someone in light.
I settle down in one of the chairs and lay my head back, staring up at the heavy gold chandeliers that hang from the ceiling while I mull everything over. I don’t know how long I sit there before the adrenaline rush finally eases and exhaustion comes roaring back.
My lids feel heavy…
Strong arms carry me, tucking me inside a car. He murmurs something as he buckles my seat belt. Hands cup my cheeks and stare down at me, his gaze searching mine, a questioning look on his face. “Ava—”