You.
Could this person be Chance? He said some revealing things in that apology, and he did leave me little notes in my locker last year…
Is this Chance? If it is, you can go fuck yourself sideways. And I hope you pull a groin muscle and break your penis.
Ouch. That sounds painful.
Yet…he doesn’t answer my question.
I watch the dots on my phone, my heart beating faster than it should.
I read something for my Contemporary Poetry class and it made me think of you.
I rack my brain for who’s in that particular class, one of the senior favorites. I didn’t take it because my focus is math and science. History of Film is my only elective.
Yeah? Send me the poem.
I expect him to send me a name and title, but instead a longer text comes in, the lines typed carefully.
I yearn for her,
To ease the monsters in my head.
My hard heart wants the glass heart in her.
Obviously, I am out of my mind.
It’s good, short and succinct.
Nice, SA. I happen to like poetry.
SA? He sends.
Secret admirer, duh.
“Slut,” a male voice mutters as he jostles past me in the hall and keeps moving. I don’t even try to see who it was. It’s the second time today. Pushing down the singe of pain those words cause in me, I look back down at my phone.
What am I doing texting with someone who could be an enemy?
Besides, it’s my free period and I want to check out the new auditorium upstairs. They started construction last year, and I left before it was finished. Maybe I can think there. Catch my breath. Think about my goals and hope they can sustain me. As long as I pop by to see the librarian who’s in charge of my period and tell her I have some teachers to check in with, she’ll give me a pass to roam a little.
I have to go, I type out.
What class?
Screw that. I stuff my phone back inside my blazer and book it to the library.
After getting my pass, I head to the stairwell that leads to the fourth floor where one of the inside entrances to the new auditorium is. My footsteps are soft as I take the second flight. I’m adjusting my backpack when I hear the first-floor door open and someone comes into the quiet stairwell. A guy’s voice is speaking, and I pause at the familiar cadence I hear, the slow, burly drawl.
Another voice, soft and cajoling and female, hits my ears.
I strain to hear their conversation, getting frustrated when they lower their voices. They don’t seem to be actually moving up the stairs, so I take a few steps back and hunker down next to the concrete barrier, working up the nerve to peep around it. The key to good eavesdropping is not getting caught.
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—”
The sound of a piano playing jolts me awake. Beautiful and flowing, the notes are a familiar tune, Demi Lovato’s “Skyscraper”, a song about a girl people think is made of paper but who is tough with her sharp lines; she’s a high-rise with broken windows but still standing, and no one can tear her down.
The player is skilled and intent, catching the low notes with the faster higher ones, the music executed with precision yet layered with emotion. Someone knows how to play. I ease up and stare toward the stage, at the black baby grand front and center.
I suck in a breath, feeling rocked. His head is tilted low, his fingers moving delicately and swiftly over the white and black keys. He’s dressed in that vented white practice jersey, his football pants on, ready for practice.
Not thinking much about what I’m going to say, I stand up and walk toward him.
He’s oblivious to me, the intensity of the notes he plays consuming him.
Who is Knox Grayson?
He ends the song and throws his head back, eyes closed as he drinks in those final notes, his lips slightly parted.
Clarity tiptoes in my head, my dream merging with the truth.
“You found me at the party.” My voice is low but enough to pop his eyes open.
He jerks up from the piano stool. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re playing my song.”
“It’s not your song.”
“It is!” I call out, my own confusion combined with what Dane told me pricking at me. “I sang it at the party and you were thinking about me when you played it so don’t pretend with me. You found me, put me in your car, and took me to Piper’s.” Placing my hands on the stage, I heave myself up and sit on the wooden floor, glaring at him. I’m not sure if I’m ready to rip his head off or hug him.
He just stares at me, emotion working his face, fists clenched, until he slowly shuts it down, composing himself with deep breaths. His gaze rips away from me. “How do you know I took you to Piper’s? I didn’t… You never contacted me or asked me.”
I cross my legs and tug at my skirt. “I just remembered it. It’s weird, the more time I spend at this place, the more the memories come.”
He buries his hands in his hair. “Ava…”
I swallow, looking away from his chiseled, beautiful features. It hurts how much he’s ignored me for the past two days, and now this.
“I’m glad you found me, okay, but you didn’t take me to the hospital. Maybe if you had, they might have found something in my system besides alcohol. I can’t be sure, but my gut says someone did do something to my drink. Maybe then everyone would believe me.”
He walks over and sits down next to me, keeping just enough distance between us so that he doesn’t touch me. Ha. I’m sick of that, for sure.
His face is troubled. “Ava…please believe me…I didn’t know you’d been assaulted. I saw you at the party earlier in the night, and I assumed you’d had too much when I found you.”
“Why did you come back?” I ask sharply.
“Dane.” He bends his head for a moment. “He doesn’t know when to stop, and I keep tabs on him. After I took Tawny home, I went back to look for him, but I found you. Just you.” He whispers out the last part. Grimness flashes over his face. “I didn’t know…how bad it was for you. It never entered my head that—”
“Didn’t you see that…” I stop, mentally pushing myself. “I didn’t even have underwear on!”
He shakes his head and says gravely, “I was just shocked to see you. I didn’t look there. I saw you on the ground and assumed you were trashed. I didn’t know where you lived—”
“So you took me to Piper’s and rang the doorbell.”
He swallows. “Right. I thought you’d sleep it off. Then, the next day I heard you’d gone to the hospital.” His face harden
s. “I had no idea. You looked okay to me. Sick maybe, definitely drunk. As soon as I knew the truth, I went to the police and told them how I found you and took you to Piper’s. I felt terrible. If I had known—”
I shake my head. “The police never told me that! Why wouldn’t they?”
He gets a pained expression on his face. “The police here know who signs their paychecks, Ava. It’s a small community run by rich men. Liam’s dad is the mayor, my dad owns half the town, and you…you don’t matter to them, not when it comes to protecting the people here.” He stares down at his hands. “I’m sorry.”
The detective’s words come roaring back. “Miss Harris, is it possible you consented to sex? Your behavior at the party was, well, indicative of…”
I breathe. Big inhalation. Long exhalation.
“The police questioned me for hours,” he continues. “They had a timeline for everyone who was there and who they left with, but because I’d left early, I couldn’t help with those alibis. If it’s any consolation, they looked at me harder than anyone. I looked suspicious because I picked you up. Then my dad showed up and the cops let me go.”
A harsh laugh comes out of me. “I’m no one in this town, but the rest of you…ha. I’m no one. Just a nobody girl.” He doesn’t respond, and I push on. “Dane said the team suffered. He said you questioned everyone personally and hired a P.I. for me.”
He starts, and I study him intently, trying to catalogue every expression he gives me. He’s such a brick wall, and like always, I want to knock it down. “He told me about your mother. I’m sorry about what happened to her. Is that why you hired a private investigator? Guilt for not taking me to the hospital?”
He whitens, his shoulders tensing. “Shit.”
“You don’t like to talk about what happened to her, and I get it. It’s not pleasant, I imagine, seeing someone unravel and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.”
“She had a lot of issues before she was assaulted, Ava.”
I inhale. “I hate it when you call me Ava instead of Tulip, you know. You’re putting distance between us. Even now, when I know you aren’t the big bad Shark you want me to think you are.” I huff out a breath.
Dear Ava: Enemies-to-lovers Standalone Romance Page 14
