I Can't Trust You

by Roxy Gray

  The moaning resumes shortly after.

  Beyond annoyed, I take my book into the living room and put on a pair of headphones to muffle the sound.

  About thirty minutes into my reading, Jasper and his date emerge from his bedroom. I contain a snort when I realize it’s Amanda, who I recognize from the party. Of course, Jasper would go for the barbie type. He walks her to the door and kisses her goodbye, smacking her ass loudly. Once she’s gone, he turns around and smirks at me, clad in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts.

  “You’re an asshole,” I say without looking up from my book.

  “Nah,” he laughs, “I just know how to have a good time.” He plants himself next to me on the sofa. “You wouldn’t know a good time if it bit you on the ass.”

  I lower my book.

  “What did you just say?”

  “You heard me,” Jasper says.

  “Listen,” I say, my tone angry. “You don’t know me anymore, so don’t pretend you do. I’m just trying to get my work done so that I can maintain my scholarship. Do you care? Of course not, because you’re too busy having fun, not giving a shit about anyone else. Typical.”

  “Wow,” Jasper says sarcastically, “Other than your tattoos and your tits, you haven’t changed one bit. Still the same spoiled brat, hellbent on ruining my fun.” He gets up from the couch and starts heading back to his room. “And I’m pretty sure you never really needed a scholarship, princess.”

  “You know nothing about my finances, Jasper. And you know what? You haven’t changed either. Except for the fact that you’re an even bigger asshole than when we were kids.”

  “Yeah? So are you. Fuck you, Ivy.”

  With that, he slams his door. A few seconds later, loud rap music sounds from behind it.

  “Fuck you too,” I whisper.

  Jasper can be cruel. Yes, I was much wealthier than he was when we were kids. Yes, his house was the worst on the block, and mine was the nicest. Even so, I wasn’t well off by any means. My scholarship is the only reason I’m able to attend school. None of that should matter now that Jasper and I are both adults, but he’s obviously holding a grudge. There’s a void between us; seemingly too large to repair. At that thought, my anger turns to sadness, and tears begin to coat my cheeks.

  “You okay?”

  I start as I notice Clay in the doorway, having just come in from class. He kicks off his shoes and sits down at the other end of the sofa.

  “Not really,” I admit. “Jasper is pissed off at me.”

  “Why?”

  “Just history. It’s not important. Sorry, I know you guys are friends. I shouldn’t be talking to you about him.”

  “Nah, it’s okay. I get it,” Clay offers. “He can be tough to get along with sometimes, but he’s my best friend. He’s a good guy. He’s just sensitive.”

  “I don’t know. He said some pretty mean things to me just now.”

  “I can talk to him if you want.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think that would help.”

  “You sure?”

  I wipe another tear from my cheek. “Yeah. I guess I expected him to still care about me after all this time…but obviously, I was wrong.”

  “You guys were close growing up, I take it?”

  “No,” I smile, “The opposite, actually. But even though we didn’t get along, he was always there when I needed him most.”

  “Give it some time. Maybe he’ll surprise you,” Clay says.

  “Maybe.”

  “He will. Jasper’s been there for me in the past too, I know he’ll pull through for you.”

  I sigh. “He has? Like when?”

  Clay looks down, his face growing serious.

  “My family had problems when I was younger. Jasper’s did too, as I’m sure you know. He helped me, helped us out a lot. Many times.”

  “Oh,” I say, growing quiet. “Was it your family who moved into our old house after we left?” I ask.

  Clay nods.

  “Yup. We inherited your tree fort. It was pretty awesome.”

  I smile, remembering the summer I had spent building it with Jasper. “I miss that thing.”

  “Me too,” Clay says. He offers me a smile before getting up.

  “Clay?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  He smiles again. “Anytime.”

  * * *

  After a long walk around campus, I start to feel better about my fight with Jasper.

  You don’t have to stoop to his level. Rise above and beyond, I tell myself as I head back into the dorms. Amanda is stretched out on a sofa in the common room, and I deliberately ignore her as I pass.

  “Hey! Ivy, right?” She says, twirling a lock of blonde hair around one finger.

  I stop and turn. “Yeah. Hi.”

  “Amanda,” she says as if I didn’t already know. “I’m sorry about earlier. We didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  I laugh. “Really? It kinda seemed like Jasper did. But it’s no big deal. If he wants to use you to make me mad, he’s welcome to.”

  Amanda blushes, turning beet red.

  “Well, that’s not the only reason we —"

  “I’ll see you around,” I say, cutting her off and heading down the hall. To my annoyance, I fill with guilt over what I just said to miss Barbie. It’s too late — I can’t get the words back now.

  As I approach our place, I smell something delicious. Magnificent, even. Who the hell is cooking? I’m even more surprised when I realize it’s coming from our apartment.

  “Hey, Ivy,” Clay says as I walk in the door.

  He and Jasper are in the kitchen together. Clay’s thick glasses are foggy as he peeks into the steaming oven. Jasper doesn’t look my way, obviously still mad. I roll my eyes. Some people don’t change. Growing up, it would sometimes take Jasper a week to cool down from one of our arguments.

  When I notice that he’s wearing a gag apron, I burst into laughter, unable to contain myself.

  “What’s funny?” Jasper asks, turning away from the stove. Oh, so he does know that I exist.

  “Nothing. I just never thought I’d see the mighty Jasper Blake wearing an apron with ‘kiss the cook’ written on it, that’s all.”

  “Well, it’s better than the other option, yeah?” Jasper says, nodding to Clay’s apron. It’s meant to look like a man’s hairy chest, but it’s plain awful.

  “True,” I giggle.

  “I think it’s done,” Clay says after checking the oven again. I set the table using our mismatched dishware, curious about what the guys made.

  I’m not disappointed. The steaming lasagna is the best I’ve had in years, perhaps in my entire life.

  “This is delicious,” I say, my taste buds screaming with joy as I stuff my mouth with noodles. “Thanks for cooking, guys.”

  “No problem,” Clay beams. “It’s actually Jasper’s secret recipe.”

  I choke on my bite, looking over at Jasper, who has been avoiding my gaze since the beginning of the meal. Jasper can cook?

  “Really? Well, it’s great.” I say, my voice stiffening. I need to be the bigger person and be nice.

  “Thanks,” Jasper says.

  The rest of the meal passes in awkward silence. Clay tries his best to ease the tension, telling me about some of his courses.

  “My favourite class right now is about art in the renaissance. It’s really interesting.”

  A laugh erupts from Jasper’s corner of the table.

  “You only like it because you get to look at paintings of naked women as an assignment,” he scoffs.

  Clay turns red, nudging his arm. “Not true. I like the stories behind the work. And learning about the artists…pervert.”

  “Sure,” Jasper says sarcastically.

  Once again, the awkward silence returns. With our plates finally empty, Clay gets up from the table. “I’m going to do the dishes,” he says,
gathering them in a pile.

  “I was going to do them since you guys cooked,” I offer, rising to my feet too.

  “It’s okay, I’ve got ‘em.” Clay retreats into the kitchen before I can protest, turning on the water full blast.

  Jasper looks at me.

  “Can we go talk for a minute?”

  “Sure.” I try not to let my voice give away my surprise at his request.

  “Let’s go to my room, yeah?”

  “Okay.”

  I follow Jasper to his bedroom, trying not to study his belongings. I can’t help myself. Even after all this time, I still have a fascination with Jasper. Probably because I could never quite figure him out.

  A set of weights and an array of monochromatic clothing are visible in his closet. By the bed, a stack of condoms, a notebook, and a wooden box with a large lock. A laptop and a pile of psychology textbooks sit atop his desk.

  “You’re in the psychology program?” I ask, taken aback. Jasper is the least likely person to care about how anyone feels but himself.

  “Yeah,” he says. “You can sit if you want.” He clears his throat and nods to his bed, which, surprisingly, is made.

  I sink down onto his mattress. He sits across from me at his desk, meeting my gaze with his green eyes. I’m instantly taken back to the day we moved six years ago.

  I climb up the walk to Jasper’s house, ready to say my last goodbye. Before I can knock, Jasper comes bursting through the door. His cheek is red and swollen, his knuckles bloody. From behind him, I hear the distant sound of his father screaming profanities. Unfortunately, a common occurrence.

  “Jasper?” I gasp at the sight of him. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  He clears his throat, taking my hand in his.

  “Tree fort. Now.”

  I follow him quietly, breaking into a near-jog to keep up with his pace. When we’re safely hidden inside the fort, we sit on the old mattress in the corner. Right away, Jasper begins to cry.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I say in my most soothing voice, wrapping him in a delicate hug.

  “No, Ivy. It’s not.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re leaving, and I’m going to be stuck with them. Alone.” He whispers as we pull away.

  My eyes well with tears of guilt.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I actually came to say goodbye…my parents are waiting in the moving van.”

  “I’m going to miss you, Ivy,” Jasper says, enveloping me in a tight hug.

  “Me too, Jasper.” I squeeze him, my heart cracking as I imagine life without him next door.

  A honk sounds in the distance.

  “I have to go.”

  I head to the opening of the treehouse, starting down the ladder.

  “Bye, Ivy.”

  “Bye, Jasper.”

  We continue to look at one another until I descend the ladder, eventually disappearing from sight. I run to the moving van without looking back. I know if I do, I won’t be able to leave him behind.

  “Yeah, so…um, anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry. For being a dick the other day, I mean.” Jasper says, clearing his throat. He runs one hand through his dark hair nervously.

  I snap back to reality, his apology finally reaching my ears.

  “Really?” I ask, surprised. “I mean, uh, thanks. I’m sorry too… I was being a bit bitchy.”

  “Yeah, you were,” Jasper agrees, his lips curling into a slight grin. He comes over and sits next to me on the bed.

  “Oh, shut up,” I say, playfully pushing against him with one shoulder.

  “So psychology, huh?” I ask, nodding to his stack of textbooks.

  “Yeah. Guess I needed some answers about why I am the way I am,” Jasper shrugs.

  “I might have a few,” I say lightly.

  Jasper smiles again, then pulls me into a light hug.

  “It’s good to see you again, Ivy.” He opens his mouth to say something else. “Was thinking we could —"

  “Guys!!” Violet yells, her footsteps growing louder until she appears in the doorway. “There’s something creepy going on…Bridgette’s room was trashed.”

  Her blue eyes are frantic and red, she’s out of breath, and one of her hands is shaking visibly. We follow her into the living room, where she paces back and forth nervously.

  “Who’s Bridgette, again?” I ask, squinting to try to picture her face.

  “Amanda’s roommate.”

  Jasper and I share a sideways glance.

  “She came home and someone had broken in and written ‘addict’ all over the walls in her room. They went through her stuff… the weirdest part is they took some of her underwear.”

  Clay chokes on a sip of water, coming over to join us. “What the hell? That’s messed up.”

  “Yeah, who would do that?” Jasper says.

  “Is Bridgette okay?” I ask.

  “She seemed alright, just shaken up,” Violet says. “But I got this really creepy feeling as I was walking alone in the hall just now. Like someone was watching me,” she shudders.

  I go over to her, enveloping her in a hug.

  “It’s alright, Violet. No one is going to hurt you. I’m sure this was just a fluke. Maybe she has a crazy ex-boyfriend or something.”

  “Yeah, maybe. It’s just weird…Bridgette is in a couple of my courses and she seems pretty normal. I doubt she’s an addict.”

  “How about I take you out for a coffee, and we’ll check in on Bridgette and Amanda when we get back?” Clay suggests.

  “Okay,” Violet says, wiping a tear from her cheek. “That sounds nice.”

  The two of them head out, leaving just Jasper and me. He clears his throat. “I’m going to go check on Amanda and make sure she’s alright,” he says nervously. He leaves, and then I’m alone.

  I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something more to this. There’s a nagging question I can’t get out of my mind, and I decide to text Violet.

  Me: By the way, how did they get into Bridgette’s room?

  Violet: It looked like someone had picked the lock, why?

  Me: No reason…Just trying to be safe.

  I put my phone down, staring at the seat Jasper had occupied just a moment ago.

  Could it be? I shake my head.

  No, Jasper wouldn’t do this…would he?

  3

  ___

  week three

  HIM

  Women are so ungrateful. Apparently, not everyone wants to be helped – the two women I’ve tried my plan with haven’t been willing. I can’t give up. Something inside of me is telling me that I have to do this, even if no one can understand why.

  If only they knew.

  If they saw half of the things I’d seen growing up, they wouldn’t be fighting off my advances; they would be welcoming them.

  It’s the only way to make them whole again. Make me whole again.

  And I think I’ve found a way.

  The idea came to my mind when I saw Violet and Ivy yesterday. Ivy has no idea about the secret that her friend is keeping from her, but I do. It’s obvious when you’ve witnessed it before.

  Anyway, I can’t stop thinking about Violet. If I can help her with her problem, maybe she’ll see that we’d be great together. Better than I’d be with anyone else in this place…even Ivy.

  Don’t get me wrong; Ivy is hot in a scrappy, ‘I’m going to fight you’ kind of way. She has a great body too. But Violet is different. She’s delicate. Graceful. Quiet.

  If only everyone else knew how you were suffering, V. Don’t worry, it won’t be long now.

  IVY

  “I don’t know, Ivy, this is really starting to creep me out,” Violet says to me over coffee one morning in the cafeteria.

  She looks like she hasn’t slept in days. Her hair is in a loose, dishevelled bun, her face bare of makeup. The whites of her eye are majority red, and
she has a panicked look in her eyes.

  “It’s a little scary, but no one has a reason to hurt either of us. I think we’ll be okay,” I re-assure her.

  “I’m sure that’s what Bridgette thought… Simone too,” she says with a huff.

  It’s true. The strange events in the dorm had become concerning. Two days after Bridgette’s room was vandalized, another girl down the hall, Simone, found a threatening note on her bed. Less than a day later, she was attacked by a hooded man outside and just barely managed to escape. The incident terrified her, understandably so, and she’d locked herself in her apartment since it happened. Violet had heard the story from Amanda, who’d heard it from one of Simone’s roommates.

  “Maybe Simone was exaggerating,” I suggest, hoping to calm Violet down. “I mean, we’ve only heard about this second-hand. Maybe the facts are getting twisted around somehow.”

  Violet shakes her head.

  “Nope. She was definitely terrified. One of her roommates was warning all of the other women in the common room yesterday to be extra sensitive around her.”

  My brow knits into a frown.

  “Well, what about the police? Shouldn’t they be doing something if it’s so serious?”

  “Yeah, right.” Violet scoffs. “I’m pretty sure beyond filing a report and checking the security cameras, they haven’t done a thing to help either of the girls. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.”

  “Oh,” I scowl. “They should at least be letting everyone know what’s going on so that we can be extra cautious.”

  Violet shakes her head again. “They don’t want to scare anybody, especially since all of the students have already paid for a full year of housing.”

  “That’s not right,” I say, an idea coming to mind. “Maybe I can help get to the bottom of all this. I need to write a series for the school newspaper. This could be a good topic.”

  Violet becomes angry instantly.

  “No, Ivy. This isn’t some joke for the paper. Real things are happening here. We could be in danger,” she snaps.

  “I know. That’s why I want to help.”

  She pulls out her phone and checks the time.