Rebel(29)
I want to believe he’s joking, but his face is like stone, dead serious. “I don’t believe you.” Unfortunately, I do, but I don’t want to. I refuse to. “And wait, they were fucking? Did you break into their bedroom or something? How batshit crazy are you?”
“Hey, I rang the fucking doorbell. Not my fault she screamed come in. Or maybe it was I’m coming, now that I think about it. They were coked out of their minds, either way.”
“What?”
“Did he ever offer to share? It’s the least he could do when you share him with Violet, and who the fuck knows who else.”
“Coke? Like—” He can’t possibly be saying what I think he is.
“White powder. Usually you snort it off a mirror. Fucks you up. Disgusting shit.”
“He doesn’t do—” I said I wanted honest, but I didn’t want this. This is too much.
“Of course not. It was probably just Violet’s and he had to hold it for her.” He leans back with a shrug, but his face shows what he really thinks.
“I see.” I don’t know what to say, or think. Paul wouldn’t do something like that. Sure, he’s rough around the edges, but drugs? Other women? I’m the only one he wants, right? He said so. And Gavin would totally say stuff like this just to get a rise out of me.
Emotion bubbles up, lumping up in my throat. I was going to let Paul be my first. That’s why I ran away from Gavin in the first place. Why I couldn’t do it. What a hypocrite I am. I was this close to having sex with Gavin. Is that much better?
I’m getting angry. I can feel it, but I don’t know who to aim it at. Paul, myself, Gavin? Is he telling the truth, or is this just another try at manipulating me? With a glare, I snap, “I don’t believe you.”
“Call him.” He’s dead calm.
“Alright.” Yeah. I’ll call his bluff. “I will.” Pulling out my phone, I tap Paul’s name. His icon is a little red heart, which makes me wince. Gavin’s lying. I know he is.
I know he isn’t.
The phone rings forever. Come on, pick up. I know you’re there, Paul. It just keeps ringing. Maybe he’s busy. This is stupid. What am I even going to say? Meanwhile, Gavin swirls the liquid in his glass, making no sign of backing down.
I’m just about to hang up when there’s an answer. “Hello?” The voice is unclear, slow and decidedly female.
“Who’s this?” Not the most polite way to start a phone call, but I’m past polite.
“It’s Violet. Duh. Who’re you?”
“Duh. Angie. Paul’s girlfriend.” I leave the, “you bitch,” unsaid. For now.
Her voice is muffled as she screams to someone else in the room. “There’s some bitch on the phone saying she’s your girlfriend. You wanna explain that shit?” There’s a mumbled reply that I can’t make out, and then she’s back on the line, her voice so caustic I’m surprised it doesn’t melt my ear right off. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but stay the fuck away from Paul.” I don’t think she spits, but it wouldn’t surprise me. The last thing I hear before the line goes dead is, “Crazy-ass bitch.”
I almost throw my phone across the bar. The tears come before I can stop them. I don’t know if I’m sad or just angry. Probably both, or maybe there’s just a limit to how much anyone can be expected to take in a twenty-four hour period and I just passed it. Resting my arms on my elbows and my face in my hands, I sob right there at the table. Crap, I don’t want to do this in public.
“Come here.” His voice is unusually gentle as Gavin takes my hand and pulls me toward him, around the table. I don’t know why I let him. He’s my asshole stepbrother, but right now I just want comfort, and he’s offering it. Drawing me right into his lap, he wraps his arms around me and holds me close. No teasing. No bullying. Just holding.
“I’m still mad at you, you know,” I tell him between sniffles. Wait a minute. I look up at him through itchy, watery eyes. “Why were you even there? Why’d you beat him up?”
Gavin laughs, and I can feel the rumble in his chest. “I know Paul. I know what kind of shit he’s up to. I just didn’t know he was your Paul until the other night.” He wrinkles his nose. “You have shitty taste in guys, babe.”
That’s totally what I want to hear. I push off him. “Thanks for reminding me. You’re so right.”
“You little brat,” he laughs. Instead of letting me go, he pulls me closer. I try to get away, but he’s too strong.