Believing Bailey

by Linda Kage

  When I motioned to my bruised face in the hopes they would believe I honestly did feel like shit, no one’s expression lit with an ah, I get it nod. Bummer. I kept bumbling through my explanation.

  “And Bailey didn’t have any aspirin in her bathroom. So I checked the one in the hall, where I saw all the bottles on the top shelf. I was just curious what they were for. But all the sudden, Bailey was there, screaming, and it made me jump. The bottles when flying, and…”

  Yeah, my explanation started to run dry.

  But Jonah nodded his forgiveness, which rocked. Truly. “I broke my femur,” he explained.

  “Ah.” I nodded too. Then I winced; a broken femur probably hurt big time. I totally sympathized with any kind of pain right now.

  “But when Bailey first confronted you about the pills,” the dark-headed girl—Paige—said, making my stomach pitch because, shit, she was really going to go there, wasn’t she? “You said…” She paused and swallowed audibly when I pierced her with a glance, begging her with my expression to please, God, shut up about that already. But she shared a look with Designated Dave—er, Logan—which seemed to bolster her resolve before she turned back to me. “You said there was nothing left for you. You seemed so broken. I mean, you really seemed—”

  I lifted my hands and glanced away, still unable to deal with that moment of complete humiliation. “I’m fine,” I rasped. “Seriously. It was…” I shook my head, not sure how to explain it. “It was just a bad moment. You know those moments, when stray thoughts flit through your head, and then they’re gone and you’re like, weird. Why did I think that? Because, in all honestly, I would never do that. Th-that’s what that was. Just a small hiccup in my head. I’m really not like that.”

  I shrugged helplessly. A week ago, I never would’ve thought I’d be trying to convince complete strangers I wasn’t going to kill myself. The bizarreness of it all suddenly left me too flabbergasted to continue. I just stared at the brunette, lost.

  Unfortunately, she still looked concerned. “Regardless,” she said as kindly as possible, even sending me a bolstering smile before she glanced at her boyfriend and took his hand. “Logan and Jonah have a friend named Samantha. She’s not technically a psychiatrist, but she helps people all the same. And she’s really cool. She helped them both through some rough issues. If you’d like her number, I’m sure she’d be more than willing to talk with you, too.”

  Yeah, until she found out I was the famous rapist of Granton University.

  As if reading my mind, Paige more firmly said, “She would help you.”

  For some reason, that just made me feel shittier though. I shouldn’t need help. I should be able to handle this and get my own shit together.

  I blinked and then flushed hotly. “Okay, uh, well, thank you, but…” I glanced around, looking for Bailey, or someone, anyone to pop forward and tell these people I was fine. But dammit to hell, I wasn’t fine, was I? Clearing my throat, I gave Paige a humble kind of I give up nod before saying, “Thank you for the offer. I’ll keep it in mind.”

  Bailey reentered the living room, clapping her hands. “Okay, food’s ready! Let’s eat.”

  Jonah frowned. “But you left, like, only two minutes ago to go fix supper.”

  She sent him a nasty smirk. “What can I say; I cook fast.”

  “What the hell did you cook?”

  “Hot dogs and cold baked beans from a can. Are you coming or not?”

  “Jesus, I could’ve made that,” Jonah huffed but stomped toward the kitchen, clearly not about to turn down any kind of meal.

  The others almost obediently filed after him until it was only me and Bailey left in the living room. She glanced at me and held out her hand, beckoning me forward. “Come on. Let’s eat.”

  I shuffled a step back and shook my head. “I’m not very hungry.”

  And I’d already reached my threshold of awkward for the day. I wasn’t exactly looking for more by staying in the company of her and her roommates. They’d just seen me fucking cry.

  Before this whole fiasco started, I think the last time I’d cried had been when I was ten-years old and our Lab, Sal, had died. And even then, I’d run to my room and slammed the door to bawl on my bed with a pillow over my head so no one could see me.

  I wasn’t a fan of this open weeping bullshit. I pretty much wanted to sink through the floor and cease to be seen by anyone else ever again.

  But Bailey only snorted. “I went through the whole process of making you food; you’re eating, dammit.” She latched a firm hand around my arm and dragged me from the living room.

  It didn’t seem to matter if I mentioned that hotdogs and cold baked beans weren’t exactly a “whole process” or not; she was determined.

  So, six of us sat down to supper. Every seat at the dining room table was full. I had a feeling Bailey always sat on the end where she currently was in order to let each couple sit together on one side or another. So that meant I was left at the other end, opposite her.

  I actually appreciated that. Facing the others was not high on my list of wishes at the moment. Still, sitting here at a table with these people was so freaking uncomfortable. And they were all so strangely silent.

  Until Bailey gave a dramatic sigh and said, “For the love of God, someone say something before I start in again about how I think we should totally hook Jonah’s friend Aubrey up with Logan’s brother’s Jake.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” the big guy groaned, covering his eyes before saying, “How many times do I have to tell you, just because they’re both gay, doesn’t automatically mean they should hook up.”

  “But—”

  “Would you try just any guy simply because he was hetero?” At Bailey’s scowl, Jonah added, “Jake’s an athlete. Aubrey’s into drama. They wouldn’t get along.”

  “Well, we wouldn’t know that for sure unless we at least introduced them, now would we?” Bailey mumbled, before moodily clinking her spoon into a pile of pork and beans on her plate. “I’m just saying, it wouldn’t hurt to try hooking them up.”

  “Oh, Lord,” Jonah groaned.

  “I’m going to have to agree with Abbott on this one,” Designated Dave—er, Logan—finally spoke up. “I think my brother’s a little bit too elitist for Aubrey’s taste.”

  “You mean, he’s a total freaking snob? Yeah, that’s for damn sure.” Bailey pointed her spoon at Logan. “I can’t believe you’re still giving that entire hoity toity family of yours another chance to be in your life after they kicked you out for, how many years? They seem so frigid and uptight whenever they come to visit you.”

  Logan breathed out a sigh. “That’s just the way they are,” he explained. “It’s a work in progress. We’ll get there. Someday.” I could almost hear him silently add hopefully, and it made me think of my own family.

  “Well, I don’t know how you could ever forgive them for the way they disowned you. I mean—Oh!”

  Her gaze veered to me, and I could actually hear her thoughts. The word disowned had immediately made her think of me. My own stomach knotted at the memory, but it also had me glancing sideways as Logan and wondering what had happened there to make his family turn him out. He’d always been so quiet and straight-laced whenever I’d seen him at parties. Hell, my parents probably would’ve adored a son like him.

  “I just had the strangest thought,” Bailey announced, “Xander killed someone and didn’t go to jail, while Beckett committed no crime and did go jail. Isn’t that crazy ironic?”

  I had no idea who Xander was, so I didn’t have an answer. But strangely enough, no one else at the table could seem to reply, either. They all froze with another awkward silence. I glanced around, wondering what I was missing.

  “Shit,” Bailey added a second later. “That was inconsiderate, wasn’t it?”

  The redhead—Tess, I think her name was—nodded and held her fingers an inch apart. “A lil’ bit, yes.”

  “Sorry.” Wincing, Bailey swung around to plead to th
e other couple. “I’m so sorry.”

  Logan lifted a hand, immediately excusing her. “It’s fine.”

  “It was self-defense.” Paige turned to me of all people as if it was vital for her to convince me of that. Then she frowned and said, “Kind of. They were just drunk teenagers who got into a fistfight, and he was knocked to the ground, where he hit his head and died. Total freak accident.”

  Her eyes were a dark pleading brown as if she needed me to understand that the murder committed had been totally innocent. “Okay,” I answered, nodding to let her know I wasn’t about to question her. But then I had to glance around and ask, “Who’s Xander?”

  Logan made an amused, but also kind of pain-filled sound before lifting his hand. “I am. My name is Logan Xander.”

  I blinked, wondering why the hell everyone at the fraternity called him Designated Dave then. I’d met him a few times when I’d been drunk off my ass. He was a sober driver who gave people lifts home from parties. I’d used his services before, and remembered him being nothing but quiet and considerate to the drunk idiots he helped, while they weren’t always that great in return. But now that I thought about it, it’d been a while since I’d seen him working the parties. He’d probably met Paige and—

  It suddenly clicked in my head what Bailey and Paige had said Xander had done. My eyes widened. “Holy shit,” I blurted. He’s accidently murdered someone in an innocent fistfight. “That had to suck. I’ve been in fights plenty in my life. I can’t even imagine what would’ve happened if any of them had ended that way.” Then another awful thought struck. “Was he a friend?”

  It had mainly been friends I’d fought with. Damn, if I’d accidentally killed a friend—

  I suddenly realized my question had the same awkwardly quiet response Bailey’s initial foray into this conversation had brought. I glanced around, wondering why that was such a bad question until Paige cleared her throat and quietly admitted, “It was my brother.”

  Oh…shit. Logan had killed Paige’s brother…and now they were dating. I bet that was quite a story.

  My mouth opened, and I could feel the foot being inserted.

  “I-I’m so sorry,” I fumbled out, but that felt like the lamest apology a person could give at a time like this.

  I glanced at Bailey, seeking help out of this. But she only waved a hand, unconcerned. “Don’t worry about it. I spread more awkwardness than this around the table on a nightly basis.”

  “She really does,” Jonah agreed dryly.

  Bailey scowled at him. “Suck it, asshole. You’re just jealous.”

  When he chuckled in return and flipped her off, I figured those two probably swapped insults regularly. Tess, stuck in the middle of them—both literally and figuratively since she was the best friend of Bailey and girlfriend of Jonah and they were currently sitting on either side of her—didn’t seem concerned by their bickering at all, which supported my theory.

  I watched the redhead for a second. She seemed so quiet and shy, it was hard to imagine her as Bailey’s best friend. They were like polar opposites.

  She must’ve felt my gaze on her, though, because she glanced over, only for her eyes to widen and her face to brighten with embarrassment before she quickly darted her face downward again.

  I blinked. Huh. I didn’t think Bailey’s best friend liked me. And I didn’t like that. Jana’s friends had always adored me—

  And where had that thought come from? I wasn’t dating Bailey. Why did I feel the need to make her friend like me?

  Like a wakeup call, that thought kept me quiet throughout the rest of the meal. I didn’t need to try to fit in with these people. I was just here temporarily, and then I’d move on. I’d already learned the hard way that putting any kind of trust or expectations in others—ahem, thanks a fucking lot, Max—was a bad idea. So I decided not to let myself get too close to Bailey’s people.

  When I finished eating, however, I offered to clean the dishes, still hoping to catch some favor with the redhead. I just couldn’t help it. It was as sickness. I must be one of those needy, approval-seeking dorks and just hadn’t realized it until now. But Tess didn’t seem to catch my efforts. She trucked it out of there with her boyfriend and the other couple.

  Bailey, however, lingered behind. When I stood to pick up a handful of dirty dishes, she did the same.

  “Hey, you don’t have to help,” I scolded lightly. “You cooked, so you should be excused from cleaning duty.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, I really cooked. Besides, I don’t mind.”

  Since I liked her company, I stopped protesting.

  We gathered and loaded the dishwasher together, standing on either side of it to file in plates and cups. At one point when she leaned down to slot some silverware into the holder, a curly lock of her hair slid down into her eye. She brushed it away without even seeming to notice, but I couldn’t take my attention off that lock as it tangled around a mass of other curls over her ear.

  “What colors have you dyed your hair?” I asked without thinking.

  She glanced up. “What?”

  I shrugged and cleared my throat, backing up a step to appear more casual and less interested. I waved my hand toward her head. “You said earlier you dyed your hair when the going got tough.”

  “Oh.” She went back to work loading dishes. “Well, you saw the rainbow.”

  “I did.” I nodded.

  “And before that, it was another mix of colors like brown, blond and red, regular hair colors but a bunch of different thin strips of them. Then once, it was pitch black with a streak of red. I tried to make it completely red like Tess’s once but that didn’t work. And I was a brunette once.”

  “What’s the original color?”

  She glanced at me and winked. “Oh, I’d have to kill you if I told you that.”

  I sniffed out an amused smile, but another part of me stirred because I knew another way I could find out her true hair color.

  But that was wrong to think, and I was going to stop thinking it.

  Except I really couldn’t stop thinking about that.

  Returning my focus to the dishes, I thought about it until we were completely finished cleaning the kitchen.

  Bailey grinned companionable at me as she dusted her hands together with a satisfied air of completion. Yeah, she had no idea what was going on in my brain right then. “All right. Good job. Let’s see what the others are up to.”

  I nodded and followed her to the opening of the kitchen, where she stopped abruptly.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, peering past her and into the living room, where the other two couples were watching a movie, it seemed.

  “Dear God,” I murmured. “Do we have to go in there with them while they’re like that?” I leaned in toward her to lower my voice, and caught a whiff of her—the same fragrance I’d breathed from my pillow for the past two nights. “I might get hives.”

  She snorted out a laugh. “Get used to it, Bud. They do this all the time. And we’re big home-bodies, so when I say all the time, I mean all the time.”

  I shuddered in revulsion, even though the idea of snuggling up on a couch wrapped around Bailey while we watched a movie every evening didn’t sound repulsive in the least.

  “How do you stand it?” I whispered.

  “I don’t.” She widened her eyes to the point it made her look insane. “Can’t you tell?”

  I laughed.

  She relaxed her eyes and grinned. “I tried hanging out in my room mostly, but lately, I’ve been getting restless and going out by myself, finding parties where drunk guys throw their beer on me and then chase me into back bedrooms where they then force me to watch them making it with stupid, lying chicks.”

  “Dear God.” I groaned and slapped a hand over my face. “Don’t remind me of that. Worst night ever. I doubt I’ll ever drink again.”

  “You really shouldn’t,” Bailey advised, nudging her elbow at me. “Don’t you know dirty viper sluts like to take a
dvantage of pretty, vulnerable boys like you when you’re too drunk to know what’s going on?”

  I started to grin before growing serious and saying, “Hey, it’s not cool to victim blame.”

  She grinned back only to force a straight face too. “Sorry. You’re right. That was uncalled for.”

  Simultaneously, she and I both grinned again together at the same time.

  Nodding my head toward the couple-palooza going on in the living room, I lowered my voice some more and said, “Let’s go hang out in your room.”

  Then I froze, wondering if that sounded too suggestive.

  But relief showed in her gaze. “God, yes,” she said as if that were the best idea ever.

  We snuck into the living room, and no one noticed us darting past them behind their couches and loveseats. Then we hurried into the hall and down toward her room. Bailey entered first, and I shut the door behind us, pressing my spine to the closed entrance. She skipped to her bed and fell down on it, holding her stomach and grinning when she rolled onto her back to grin my way.

  “Oh, this is so much better,” she moaned in a pleased way that made my dick jump to attention. Her blonde curls splayed across the mattress, and this vision entered my head where I prowled toward her and crawled on top of her, covering her whole body with mine before I sank my fingers into that hair and kissed her endlessly.

  Nerves jumped in my stomach as I slowly neared the bed to sit gingerly on the corner, purposefully keeping my distance.

  “I hung out a lot in my room at the frat house,” I said idly, smoothing my hand over the coverlet of her bed. “There was always so many people coming and going at all hours. My room was my only sanctuary.”

  She nodded, pulling herself into a sit and crisscrossing her legs so that we were on opposite sides of the mattress, facing each other. “I had a quiet little sanctuary at home.” She rolled her eyes. “With four butthead brothers, not even my room was safe, so I went somewhere else where no one would ever find me.”