by Roxy Gray
“Ivy, I’ve changed a lot since we were kids. I’m not going to let you drag me through the mud when I’ve worked really hard to be here. Get the fuck out.”
I open my mouth to protest but decide against it. I step back from the doorway, just in time for Jasper to slam it in my face. Oops.
I lock myself in my room again, rolling my eyes at the wall Jasper and I share. Why is he so defensive? Why is he so angry and resentful? His reaction to my question was extreme — as if he has something to hide. And I’m going to find out what it is. After I finish my homework, that is.
The rest of the day passes slowly in a haze of textbook readings, and I wake up around 8:00 PM from an accidental nap. Music is blaring in the living room, the sounds of laughter filtering through the crack beneath my door. For a minute, I think it’s a dream, but as I sit up in bed, I realize the floor is vibrating from the volume of the bass. Either this is real or my dream has morphed into a nightmare.
What the hell?
Wandering out of my room, I discover the apartment littered with women and booze. The rhythmic beat interferes with my heartbeat. A sea of bodies consumes all the open space, moving in unison to the melody. And in the middle of them stands Jasper, who looks intoxicated, a lit joint hanging from the corner of his mouth.
“Look, everybody, it’s Ivy. Mrs. Fucking detective!” He slurs, yelling over the music.
A couple of people turn to look at me before resuming their dancing and drinking. Clay is nearby, a soda in his hand as he watches Jasper with concern. Violet and Jamie are on the sofa, engrossed in conversation as they each sip on a beer. He slyly slips one arm around her shoulders and she giggles at something he said. Well, I guess Jamie already found someone new to hit on.
I walk up to Jasper, not bothering to conceal my frown.
“Is this your way of getting back at me or something? Trashing the apartment?” I demand.
He laughs. “Getting back at you? Nope, I’m just having a good time on a Friday, sugar. Isn’t that what psychos are supposed to do?” Jasper takes a long drag from his joint, blowing the smoke directly into my face.
I snatch it out of his mouth and pass it to someone else in the crowd.
“Jasper, I don’t think you’re a psycho.”
He stares after the joint as it disappears from sight. “Yes, Ivy, you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have said it,” he slurs.
“No, that’s not true. I was just…I don’t know. Can we talk a bit more? I think you misunderstood me.”
I don’t wait for him to answer. Instead, I thread my hand through his and head through the crowd to the nearest room, which happens to be Violet’s.
“Shit, am I about to become another notch on your bedpost? Or Violet’s?” Jasper jokes as I pull him inside.
I shut the door behind us, turning to him.
“No. You’re mad at me, and I want to know why.”
“You want to know why? Are you dense, Ivy?”
“Well, I know you’re mad at me for talking about your mom, but I feel like there’s something else going on here.”
“Yeah, there is. I don’t hurt women. Or anyone. You know me better than that, yeah?” He says, his green eyes reddened from intoxication.
“Thing is, I don’t. Not anymore,” I shrug. It’s true — the Jasper I used to know hasn’t been here for me once since he returned to my life.
“Come on, don’t say that,” he says, pulling me closer until my head is pressed to his chest. I stay there, nestled into his soft grey hoodie, afraid to look up at him.
“I’m scared,” I admit. “Girls are getting hurt. Violet isn’t talking to me. I thought you’d be here for me, but you’re always angry.”
“I’m not angry, Ivy.”
“You are.”
“I’m not now,” he grins into the top of my head, running one hand along my tattoo.
And then I feel it again; the magnetic pull between us. I retreat from Jasper’s chest and look up at him. His cheeks are flushed, his dark hair pushed messily to one side. He still holds me loosely, one arm wrapped around my low back. As he studies me, his pink lips part slightly.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, a knowing smile taking over his mouth.
“No reason. It’s nothing,” I say, ignoring the familiar burn of desire in my stomach.
Bad idea. You only want him because you haven’t had sex lately. Not because he’s Jasper, I tell myself.
Jasper threads one hand up to my temple as he moves closer, his gaze dropping to my mouth.
“I think it’s something,” he says huskily.
He plants his lips on mine in a light, teasing kiss.
It feels good. So good that I can’t control myself. I kiss him back, pressing against him until he opens his mouth, slipping his tongue past my lips.
Jasper’s strong hands move downwards and he slips them into the back of my sweatpants, trailing them down my ass. He holds me with need, walking us backward until we collapse onto Violet’s bed. We roll against one another, playing a game of tug of war until I end up on top, straddling him.
I sit there for a minute, catching my breath. Jasper is panting too. My mind finally catches up to my body and realizes what we’ve been doing.
“I don’t think we should do this here, now, like this,” I say, climbing off of him.
“Because…?”
“One second you’re yelling at me, then you’re kissing me…I just need time to think,” I say flatly.
And I need time to figure out if you’re the one behind everything going on.
“Okay, Ivy. Take all the fucking time you need. It’s not like I’m Jamie or anything.”
Jasper says, heading for the door.
“How do you know about him?” I ask.
“People talk, Ivy. Guess I’m not even good enough to sleep with you of all people.”
He leaves, letting the door shut behind him.
The sting of his words hits me all at once. I sink down on Violet’s bed, my head cradled in my hands. Why are things with Jasper always so complicated? Having a history is supposed to make getting along with someone easier, not the opposite. Yet I can’t keep away; not from him.
As I finally stand up, I notice a crumpled ball of paper on the floor and pick it up out of curiosity.
To my horror, it’s a note, similar to the one Simone received. This time, scrawled in handwritten purple letters, are a few eerie words:
Things will get better soon. I’m coming for you.
My stomach drops quickly, filling me with nausea as if I just descended a steep roller coaster. I hold the note in one shaky hand and snap a quick photo of it before putting it back where I found it. This is bad. Very bad. My heart pulses quickly in my chest, and my hands grow clammy. Why wouldn’t Violet tell me about this?
When I step back into the party, she’s exactly where I saw her last: with Jamie on the sofa. She seems happy and even throws me a little wave before turning back to their conversation. I don’t want to ruin her good mood, especially since only a few hours earlier she snapped at me over my decision to interview Simone.
“Rumour is she’s been trying to recover from a drug addiction. Leave her be,” Violet said as she glared at me across the table at lunch. It was one of many squabbles we’d had over the past few days, all initiated by Violet in some way or another. Now, she’s grinning at me as if our arguments never happened, perfectly content to be drinking and chatting with Jamie. Is it possible her anger had been misplaced jealousy over my fling with him? Or is she just too spooked by the note to be alone tonight?
I’ll talk to her about this tomorrow, I decide, heading back to my room.
On the way, I pass Jasper. He’s dancing with Amanda now, his hands prowling her ass. I bite back a fresh sting of jealousy, wishing more than anything that the party would disappear so that I could get some sleep and forget this whole night.
Of course, it does
n’t.
I wait it out for a while in my room before deciding to head to my parents’ house for the evening. They’re a forty-minute bus ride away, and I pack a backpack before locking up my room and slipping out the door.
As I walk down the empty hall to the elevator, I look around, checking every corner for predators.
When I arrive outside, the same thing. Every person looks menacing. Every tree or bush is a danger: a place he could be hiding, waiting for one of us to wander out alone in the dark. The feeling of unease follows me all the way to the bus stop and even to my seat. It isn’t until I arrive at my parent’s place an hour later that I feel safe; safe from anyone who might want to hurt me or Violet.
4
___
MISSING PERSON
IVY
“So, how’s school going this year?” My dad asks over breakfast the next morning. The two of us are seated at the kitchen island, sipping on freshly squeezed orange juice. I’d never been much of a breakfast person ― neither was my father, but I couldn’t turn down a glass of fresh juice. Pulp removed, of course.
“It’s not bad so far,” I lie. “You’ll never guess who one of my roommates is.”
My mom comes over slowly, carrying a full kettle. She pours boiling water over her bowl of oats and joins us. “Who?”
“Jasper Blake.” I try to make my voice as casual as possible. Knowing my parents, they’ll turn the resurfacing of Jasper into a full-on investigation into all of my personal relationships. As much as I love the two of them, they’re the nosiest people on the face of the earth.
“Wow,” my dad says. “That’s a blast from the past. How’s he doing?”
“He seems good,” I shrug, already regretting having mentioned him. Our kiss still haunts my lips. “Still a little bit wild.”
“The good ones always are.” My mom winks at my dad.
“Gross.” I scrunch up my nose.
“Is his family still out in the county?” My dad says, finishing his juice before switching to his mug of coffee.
“Yeah,” I pause. “I mean, I think so. He doesn’t really talk much about them.”
“Understandable,” my mom bobs her head. “I always worried about him in that house. His poor mother had a rough time, rest her soul.”
“She did,” I agree quietly. My mind goes back to my latest argument with Jasper. Maybe I had gone too far, mentioning his mother’s drug problems, but I can’t take it back now. And for someone who had been through so much hell growing up, I’m still grappling with the fact that Jasper can’t endure a simple comment from me. He spent years suffering through his father’s abuse and his mother’s negligence ― why does my opinion even matter to him?
I sigh internally. If I can’t control my blabbermouth, all three of my roommates are going to wind up being pissed off at me. When I get back home, I’ll sit Violet down for a conversation and get to the bottom of this. Hopefully, she’s still in as good of a mood as she was last night
“Would one of you guys be able to give me a ride back to campus? I have some homework to do, so I need to get back.”
“Sure,” my mom nods. “Just let me finish breakfast and we’ll go.”
I head upstairs to collect my things. I didn’t bring much; it doesn’t take long. I’ve just started heading down the stairs when I realize my phone is still charging beside my bed. Scatterbrain, I scold myself.
I unplug it, noticing a long string of unread messages from Violet.
Violet: I know I said that I was fine, but I’m not.
Violet: too late to change anything.
Violet: thought he had good intentions.
Violet: but he’s taking me there now
Violet: need your help, Ivy
My forehead immediately creases. My heart rate quickens, and a feeling of fear settles into my body. Strangely, all of the texts came through at 3:05 AM. I can’t figure out what Violet is trying to say; some of the messages are obviously missing.
“Mom?!” I yell downstairs, trying to conceal the panic in my voice.
“Yes?”
“Can we go now?”
I try to call Violet, but her phone goes to voicemail. Instead, I send her a message, asking her to call me ASAP.
I sprint downstairs, the feeling of panic growing stronger with each step. I have a bad feeling. I need to find Violet and make sure she’s alright.
* * *
When I get back to campus, it’s almost noon, and I haven’t heard anything back from Violet. The smell of coffee is strong in the hall as I approach our place. I find Jasper in the living room, nursing a hangover. A bottle of aspirin sits on the sofa beside him, and he’s holding a sports drink to his chest as if it were his last lifeline.
“Hey,” he says as he notices me. A sharp sting hits me as I recall Jasper’s harsh words from last night, and I don’t return the greeting.
“Hey, Ivy.” Clay nods from beside him.
“Hi. Is there coffee?”
I immediately go over to Violet’s room to see if she’s awake, but her door is shut.
“In the kitchen,” Jasper says with a groan.
He follows me there, pouring himself a tall glass of water. He reaches into the freezer and adds two icecubes as I get myself a cup of coffee. I avoid his gaze. I avoid looking at him altogether. My mind is still preoccupied with Violet, and he’s nothing but a distraction. A dangerous one, at that.
“Look, about last night,” Jasper murmurs. “I was really drunk. I can’t remember the entire night… so if I said or did something to make you mad after we kissed —"
“It’s okay. Let’s just forget about it.” I retrieve a teaspoon from the drawer, vigorously stirring my cup of coffee.
“Okay,” Jasper says, but he doesn’t look convinced.
“Have you guys seen Violet, by the way? Is she up?” I ask as we meander back to the living room.
“I haven’t seen her since the party,” Clay shrugs.
“Yeah, we figured you guys were together.”
“Shit,” I say, running over to her door again and pounding on it. “Violet, you in there? Violet??”
Nothing.
“Fuck.” I race out of the room and down the hall to Jamie’s place.
“Is Violet here?” I demand as Jamie finally swings the door open. He squints into the light, obviously having over-indulged last night too.
“No. Haven’t seen her since last night, why?”
“She didn’t spend the night here?” I ask, becoming more frantic by the second.
“No… what’s going on?” Jamie asks.
I push past him and rush to his bedroom, but it’s empty.
“Ivy, what the hell are you doing?” He asks.
I don’t answer.
Instead, I run downstairs. I report what happened to the front desk and call the police.
“What just happened?” Clay asks when I finally return to our apartment.
“I think something might have happened to Violet,” I say, inhaling a shaky breath. “She’s not in her room, and nobody has seen her since last night.”
I sit down on the sofa, trying my best not to cry. I shouldn’t have left her alone yesterday. Not after finding the note. This is my fault.
“With Jamie, probably. They were really hot and heavy at the party,” Jasper says.
“No, I just saw him. She wasn’t there.”
“Hopefully she’s okay,” Clay says. “Maybe she’s at the library or something.”
We’re interrupted by my cell phone ringing. It’s one of the staff at the front desk.
“I have to go downstairs,” I say. “The police are here.”
Jasper’s face turns to stone, and he follows me into the hall. “Ivy, wait a sec.”
“What do you want, Jasper?” I sigh. “I don’t have the energy for you right now.”
“I just wanted to make sure you’re alright,” he says.
�
��Yeah? Well, I’m not. Anything else?”
“You’re not telling the cops I did anything, are you?” He whispers.
“Well, did you?”
“No, I told you that already,” he insists, grabbing hold of my hands gently.
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
I turn on my heel and head to the elevator.
Now is not the time to let Jasper get in your head.
Downstairs, I meet with Police and lead them to Violet’s room. They ask me questions about what happened. I rack my brain, sharing everything I can think of: the strange texts, Violet’s odd behaviour, and the note I found in her bedroom. I also give them a list of people that I’ve seen Violet interact with over the past few weeks.
“You said you found the note in Violet’s bedroom. Do you often go into her room?” One of the officers asks me.
“Well, sometimes. Normally she’s there too. But I was there at a party. With a guy. Jasper Blake. He’s my roommate too.” I turn red, ignoring the image of him in my mind.
“It was just you and Jasper in her bedroom? How long were you there?”
“Yes. Maybe ten minutes. It wasn’t long.”
My face burns as the officer gives me a knowing look. “I see. Thanks for all of this, Ivy. We’re going to start by searching Violet’s room and talking to the other students on the floor. We’ve already notified Violet’s parents to let them know what’s been going on. We are taking this very seriously.”
“Thanks, Officer Daniels. Let me know if I can do anything else to help.” I say with a nod. “I hope we can find her soon.”
“Me too,” he says.
I hide in my room while the police get to work, not wanting to intrude. Through the thin walls, I can still hear the officers as they probe Clay and Jasper with questions about Violet and her whereabouts last night. They ask about the other incidents too. Well, if Jasper was involved, they’ll surely find out now. I picture him there, his face set in seriousness as he responds to the police. Even through the thickness of the wall, I can detect apprehension in his voice.
Still, when I think about last night, my mind still tries to bypass Violet and go straight to Jasper. Jasper and our hot kiss. Jasper and his commanding touch. My skin heats when I picture it, as if someone turned up the thermostat. But remember what he said afterward? The nagging voice in the back of my head reminds me, and my body cools itself at the memory. He wasn’t kind then. Jasper may be a lot of things, but to me, he will always be just one: an asshole.
