Rush (Gods #2)(34)

Ares takes a step closer to me. "You know … if you'd told me that you  relapsed, I would've understood. Helped you. But … no … you just can't admit  it, can you?" He drops his arms by his sides. "I thought you were  different than my dad." He shakes his head. "But you're just the same."

"No!" There's consternation in my voice. "I'm telling you the truth."

"I don't believe you!" he roars.

Those four words are like a punch to the chest.

And they hurt like hell.

The ensuing silence in the room is deafening.

My throat is thick with tears.

"I'm going to ask you one last time. I'm giving you this opportunity to tell me the truth. Did you get drunk last night?"

I swallow back the tears and wrap my arms around myself. "No," I say  quietly, shaking my head. Because I won't lie. I promised him the truth  always, and that's what I'm giving him.

He exhales a harsh breath, shoving his hand through his hair. Then, he starts across the room, walking past me.

"Where are you going?" I can't hide the fear in my voice, and I don't want to.

"I'm just … done."

"Done?" My heart leaps in panic. "Ares … please."

"No, Ari. There's no coming back from this. I refuse to be with you and have you lie to my face."

"I'm not lying!" Tears spill down my cheeks.

"Stop!" he bellows, silencing me. "We're done. Don't call me. Don't come  to see me. In fact … just forget I ever existed because that's what I  intend to do with you."

Then, he's gone.

And I'm standing here, in shock, my phone still in my hand.

Confusion, hurt, and pain spill through me.

I stare down at the video.

I didn't drink.

Someone had to have given me something …

Put something in my drink.

Like what?

Date rape drug.

No …

But there's no other explanation.

But who would have done that?

Leo.

No. Why would he?

It's not like he tried anything. He wasn't even with me when the drug took effect …

Oh God. No.

I check the story, scrolling to find the writer or contributor, but  there's nothing. There isn't always on these types of gossip sites.

But I intend to find out.

And I have a pretty good feeling I know exactly who it is.





I'm sitting on a chair in an examination room at a private hospital, seeing Luke's doctor, Dr. Pritchard.

Luke is here with me; he's sitting outside in the hall.

I called him after Ares walked out of my apartment, and he came straight over.

I'm here, having my blood tested for drugs. The so-called date rape  drug. Because I'd already peed before I left the house, they couldn't  use my urine to test, as I'd have probably passed the drug, so they had  to take blood. The doctor left the room to go have it tested.

Luke had insisted I come here after I told him what happened.

He believed me. No questions asked.

Unlike the guy who's supposed to love me.

But I can't think about Ares right now because, if I do, I'll start crying. And I don't want to cry.

How he looked at me … like he hated me. What he said just before he left …

"Just forget I ever existed because that's what I intend to do with you."

Tears sting my eyes.

Shit. Don't cry.

Deep breaths. I'm okay.

I need to focus on my anger. That I was drugged, possibly by someone who  was pretending to be my friend. Someone who just wanted a story and  fast money and would go to the lengths of drugging me, making it look  like I was drunk.

I know what a story like that would sell for.

Well, I hope he enjoys the money.

The doctor walks back in the room and takes his seat at his desk.

He turns to face me and exhales, and I just know what he's going to say.

"Okay. So, you tested positive for flunitrazepam. The showing was low, but it was there."                       
       
           



       

"What is that?" I ask through my paper-dry mouth.

"It's more commonly known as Rohypnol."

Jesus Christ.

Even though I knew this was highly likely and I'm relieved that I'm not  losing my goddamn mind and drinking without even being aware, I'm still  shocked, angry, and hurt that someone would do that to me.

"As you're probably aware, it's a drug that is quite often used to  facilitate sexual assault. It makes the person who has been given it  look like they're drunk. They'll have trouble standing. Slurred speech.  Loss of muscle control. Nausea."

"I had all of those."

"And you say all you drank was Diet Coke?"

"Yes."

"Arianna … I know this isn't a question you'll want to hear, but I have to  ask … is there any possibility that you think you could have been  sexually assaulted?"

I clasp my hands in my lap and shake my head. "I don't think so. I  recall leaving the auction and going into my apartment alone. And I  don't feel … like … you know." I nod south.

"Okay." He nods his head. "Well, either way, we can do a rape test kit if you want one done to be sure."

I shake my head again. "No. I'm sure I would know … but thank you."

"Okay. Well, what I do suggest is that you file a report with the  police. You were drugged against your will, and that is a crime. And  people don't use this drug without intent. It was lucky that you managed  to get out of there and get home before something more serious  happened."

I know I'm lucky. But I don't feel it.

And, honestly, I don't think that was ever Leo's intent. He wanted me to appear drunk, so he could sell a story.

I knew journalists could be devious. I just didn't realize how low they could go.

"Thank you, Dr. Pritchard. I appreciate you seeing me on short notice."

"No problem at all."

"Could I ask a favor?"

"Sure."

"Would you be able to give me a copy of the test results for me to show to the police?"

"Of course."

I wait while he prints it out for me. Then, I put the test results in my bag, thank Dr. Pritchard again, and leave his office.

Luke is still out there, waiting for me.

"Okay?" he asks, getting to his feet.

"Yes … no." I shake my head, fingers curling into the sleeves of my sweatshirt.

I feel like I've been violated.

Like something has been taken from me.

I was lucky to not have been sexually assaulted. Leo might not have done  it, but someone else could've taken advantage of me in my vulnerable  state.

And I know it wasn't alcohol in my system … but I still had the same  effects as if I were drunk. The hazy feelings, emotional and physical  numbness, the vomiting. All the same results, just without the booze.

"You were drugged?"

I nod, and Luke's face tightens with anger. He walks over to me and  wraps his arms around me, hugging me, and the gesture is so sincere and  kind that I start crying.

"I'm so sorry." I sniffle, moving back, embarrassed at my public meltdown. "I'm getting your shirt wet."

"Don't be sorry. You've every right to be upset. I'm fucking furious, and it didn't even happen to me."

I'm so lucky to have him as a friend.

"Thank you, Luke, for everything … bringing me here, being there when I need you." I dry my tearstained face with my hands.

"Ari, this is what sponsors are for … what friends are for. And we're  friends. And trust me when I say that I've had worse things on my shirt  than tears."

"Puke?" I say.

He nods, and I laugh through my tears.

"Thank you," I say again, and this time I'm thanking him for the laugh just right when I needed it.

"Come on," he says, putting his arm around my shoulders in a friendly  gesture. "Let's get you home, and then we're going to figure out what  we're going to do about this."

"Okay," I say, and we start walking down the hall.

"But there's one thing you can trust me on. The bastard who did this to you won't be getting away with it; that's for sure."





I see the hulking figure of my dad waiting at the foot of my building steps as Luke pulls the car up.

"My dad," I say to him.

"Ah."

"I've been ignoring his calls all day. I know you want to talk about our plan of action, but I should talk to him."

"You should. And, Ari, really talk to him this time."

I glance over at him, knowing what he's saying. "I will. And thanks again. I'll call you later."                       
       
           



       

I climb out of his car and walk over to my dad.

My dad's eyes go to Luke's car that's pulling away and then to me. "Who was that?" he asks, suspicion lining his voice.

I sigh. "Luke. My sponsor."

"Nice car," he comments.

"Yeah, well, addiction doesn't discriminate. You wanna come inside?"

I walk past him, and he follows me up to my apartment in silence.

"You want something to drink?" I ask him as he takes a seat on my sofa.