Love You Better

by Brit Benson

  It’s strange, the way he’s assessing me, and I recall an image of a bird I saw in a pet shop once. It had beady, skittish little eyes and cocked its head creepily just like Preston is now.

  “Right,” I nod. “Well, I’m gonna go find Kelley.”

  I try to pull open the door, but Preston sticks his booted foot in front of it, trapping me inside, and all of my internal warning signals start to blare.

  “Let me out, Preston,” I say sternly, trying to hide the spike of fear, but Preston laughs.

  The music is so loud. Would anyone hear if I screamed?

  “I don’t think I will,” he quips almost playfully, and when he steps closer, I get a whiff of a spicy and cloying blend of leather and ginger. With the scent come the flashes of memory, and the pressure in my head grows.

  “Juego Voss,” I say, my heart hammering in my chest.

  “You like that?” His voice is taunting, disgusted. The sudden shift in his tone sends chills down my spine. “I should have known you’d like the expensive shit. Gold-digging gutter whore like you.”

  He steps closer, and I step back, effectively trapping myself between the shut door and Preston.

  A low rumbling voice. Navy curtains. A mesh jersey.

  “You were wearing a Colts jersey,” I recall out loud, my eyes rapidly scanning over Preston’s face. Searching for a lie. For a sign that I’m wrong. He just raises an eyebrow and grins. I flick my eyes up and study his dark brown hair. It’s cut short now, but in high school, I remember it being shaggier on top. An undercut.

  I scan his body, taking in his bulked-out, football player physique. He’s bigger than he was in high school, but the general shape is still the same. Gym rat. Big biceps. Exactly the kind of guy I was taking home before, testing myself.

  I shudder.

  “See something you like?” His voice sends ice down my spine, and when he steps closer, I get another whiff of his cologne.

  I might throw up.

  “Was it you?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

  At 4:06 a.m. the morning after our high school graduation party, I woke up in the backseat of my car with a pounding headache, one sandal, and no underwear. The ER confirmed that there was evidence of sexual assault, but my attacker likely used a condom, and while my symptoms were consistent with a Rohypnol dosage, no traces of drugs were found in my system.

  Until now, all I had were flashes of memory.

  Preston’s voice is pleased and taunting. “How do you think Kelley would feel if he knew I dicked you first?” He pulls on a strand of my hair, and I flinch. “He was always so obsessed with you.”

  I clamp my eyes shut and take steadying breaths through my mouth.

  Think. Think. Think.

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to play shy now. I’ve heard all about you, Ivy Rivenbark. Campus slut. Wild party girl.”

  His voice is rough, violent sounding, and it turns my stomach. When I force my eyes open, he’s inches from me. Our bodies aren’t touching, and I need to keep it that way.

  “Preston, you’re drunk and not thinking clearly. Kelley is probably going to come looking for me. We should really go back out there.”

  He slams his hand on the door right next to my head, and when I jump, he laughs. My pulse is erratic, and anxiety is swirling through me. My fingertips tingle. My head is foggy. My chest aches. Breathe.

  “I don’t think we will, Ivy,” he snarls at me. “How did Kelley finally get you to spread those legs for him, huh? You fucked your way through campus, and he was all that was left? Little Ivy Rivenbark with a fucking golden pussy.”

  The anger in his voice is barely leashed, moments from being completely unhinged, and terror ricochets through me.

  “I don’t remember it being that good,” he muses. “Maybe I should test it out again, yeah?”

  I need to get out of this bathroom.

  I scan the floor for my clutch which contains my pepper spray and phone and find it next to the door. I must have dropped it when he startled me. If I can’t get to my clutch, then all I have is my body, and he’s easily twice my size. I look him over as he prattles on.

  Eyes, nose, throat, groin.

  Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

  “How about you and me have some fun, Ivy? We could relive grad night.” He presses in closer and sticks his hand roughly into my hair.

  “That was rape, Preston.” I scowl back, trying my best not to sob. “You raped me.”

  He yanks my hair, and I cry out in pain, but when he pulls back in rage, I flex my wrist and jab the palm of my hand upward at his nose. The connection makes a sickening crunch, and I drop to the floor for my clutch and immediately start to yell for help.

  “You bitch,” he screams, and with blood pouring from his nose, he lunges for me right as I get my hand on my pepper spray. I point the tiny bottle at him and push the button, and he thrashes away with a scream.

  I clamber up and out the bathroom door.

  “Help! Someone please help!” I scream, and immediately I hear footsteps pounding up the stairs. I press myself against the far wall just as Preston barges into the hallway and Kelley and Jesse reach the top of the stairs.

  A crowd has formed behind them, and a few people have emerged from rooms on the opposite end of the hall too. A guy in a backwards Cubs cap catches my eye because he has his phone out.

  I watch Kelley and Jesse take in the scene before them. I’m panting, tears are streaming down my face, and I’m sure my hair is a mess. And across the hallway, Preston’s face is covered in blood, his eyes are bloodshot, and he’s absolutely enraged.

  I throw myself into Kelley’s arms.

  “It was him,” I sob into his chest, and he stiffens.

  “Bet you can’t stand that I fucked her first, right, Kap?” Preston spits a mouthful of blood onto the carpet. “Always following after her, pining for her, whining about her. Maybe you want to compare notes now?”

  “You raped me,” I yell, and Preston sneers.

  “You wanted it.”

  “You drugged me,” I say on a sob, and Preston chuckles. Kelley passes me into Jesse’s arms, and then launches himself at his former childhood friend.

  Kelley lands one solid punch to Preston’s jaw before Preston tackles him. Their bodies clash and fall to the ground, and I scream. Kelley is fast and athletic, but Preston is big, and when Preston wrestles himself on top of Kelley, the crunch of his fist fills me with terror.

  “Stop! Stop it, Preston!” I yell and turn in Jesse’s arms. “Get him off, Jesse! Help him!”

  Jesse holds my thrashing body tighter. “In a second,” he says, eyes on the fight. “Let our boy have a chance to fuck him up a little.”

  I look back just in time to see Kelley slam his fist into Preston’s already broken nose, then flip Preston onto his back. Kelley starts to pound on Preston’s body, a flurry of fists at his torso and face, and I can hear them grunting with each hit.

  One of Preston’s fists crashes into Kelley’s cheek, and Kelley rocks backward, but doesn’t fall. Instead, he doubles back harder, his face furious and dripping blood from a busted lip and eyebrow.

  “Get him off, Jesse, please!” I beg again, tears pouring down my face. Jesse waits another moment, until Preston’s brought his arms to cover his face in an attempt to block Kelley’s blows. Then Jesse nudges me aside and steps forward to pull Kelley off Preston.

  “He’s done,” Jesse says as he grabs Kelley’s shoulders and hauls him backward. Preston rolls over and spits out another mouthful of blood.

  “You fucking pussy!” Preston yells as he gets to his feet.

  “Shut the fuck up, Preston,” Kelley growls, and Preston laughs.

  “I had her first. Can’t change that.” Preston spits again. “Next time you fuck her, remember I was there first.”

  Kelley breaks Jesse’s hold and throws another punch at Preston, making him stumble backward. Preston runs at Kelley, crashing his big body into him, and just as
they’re about to get into it again, the cops arrive. Someone must have called them when I was screaming for help, and when the officers reach the top of the stairs, they break up the fight and arrest both Kelley and Preston.

  “Ivy, call my mom,” Kelley says as the officer cuffs his hands and leads him outside. “Tell her to meet me at the police station near campus.”

  “Okay,” I croak.

  “It’s going to be fine,” he says as they put him into the back of the police car, and then they’re driving away.

  As much as I want to crumple to the ground and cry, I have to focus on what I can control. I need to get to Kelley. I need to get to Preston. I can’t let Preston get away with this, and this time, I’ve got a plan.

  The wait time for an Uber is too long, and Bailey isn’t answering her phone. Jesse is drunk and can’t drive, so I dart into the house to find Scotty. The music has stopped and people are leaving since the cops crashed the party, but I manage to spot him on the deck. When I explain what happened, he hands me the keys to his truck and wishes me luck.

  Then I rush back inside to find the jerk in the Cubs cap.

  22

  I listen to Bailey and Ivy joke in the kitchen, laughing about something in a book they’re buddy reading, but I can’t focus on anything except Ivy’s huge smile and her deep dimple.

  My girl is always gorgeous, but she’s even more so when she’s happy.

  In the two weeks since I was arrested, things have been a chaotic whirlwind of action.

  When Ivy told me about what happened to her at the graduation party, I was angry for her. I hurt for her. I wanted justice for her. I wanted to do everything I could to help her heal.

  But when we discovered that Preston was the one who hurt her?

  I wanted to fucking kill for her.

  I wanted to make Preston pay for the pain he’d caused, the damage he’d done, and the time I’d lost with Ivy.

  He’s actually really fucking lucky the cops showed up when they did, or I might have done far worse than three cracked ribs and a fractured cheekbone. I can’t claim the busted nose—that’s Ivy’s work.

  I was contemplating ways to hold Preston accountable for what he did to Ivy when my parents showed up at the station. I was prepared to do any and everything necessary to make sure he was thrown in jail, but it turned out Ivy didn’t need my help.

  My girl came strolling into the police station with three different cell phone videos of the fight, and all three incriminate Preston harshly. Then a fourth video was leaked online, and victims of Preston’s from Stanford started coming forward.

  It doesn’t look good for him, and I fucking hope he gets everything coming to him.

  Ivy’s been coping surprisingly well, all things considered. She had nightmares almost every night the first week after the fight, but they’ve decreased in severity, and her therapist has scheduled her for weekly sessions for the next two months just to be safe. She’s chatting in her online support group daily, and she’s even got me joining in on morning mantras and breathing exercises. These symptoms may never go away, but I’m going to be there to help her in any way she needs. Ivy doesn’t hide from her scars, and she doesn’t let them define her. I’m just in fucking awe of her.

  From my seat on the girls’ couch, after two exhausting weeks, I feel like I can finally relax. Their apartment is decorated with tiny paper hand turkeys, the table is set with placemats that Jesse knitted, and the savory smells of butter and gravy and something else delicious float through the air. We’re celebrating our second ever Friendsgiving dinner, and there is nowhere else I’d rather be.

  “What about Piercenbark?” Jesse blurts randomly from where he’s stretched out on the floor, and I bark out a laugh.

  “Gross,” Bailey calls from the kitchen. “Cool it with the ship names, J. They’re just...bad.”

  “Kivy wasn’t that bad,” Jesse pouts, and Bailey laughs as she and Ivy join us in the living room.

  “Kivy is terrible. And so is Ivelley and Kellenbark and all the others you’ve come up with.”

  As Bailey and Jesse get into the same argument they’ve been having for the last month, Ivy tiptoes behind me and leans over the couch. She slides her hands down my chest before whispering in my ear. “Come with me.”

  I’m out of my seat and following her into her bedroom in milliseconds.

  “I have something for you,” she sing-songs and wiggles her eyebrows.

  “Is it you, naked, underneath me?” She snorts out a laugh, but I’m very serious. “I’m serious,” I stress, and she laughs again.

  “It is not...yet. Later, that can be arranged. But right now,” she opens the top drawer of her dresser and pulls out a small white box, “you’ll have to settle for this.”

  She hands it over to me.

  “Are you giving me your zombie apocalypse badge?” I gasp jokingly. After Ivy drove my friend Scotty’s truck to the police station, she wouldn’t stop talking about how it validated her reasoning for needing to learn to drive stick. She talked about it so much, in fact, that Jesse knitted her a grey diamond-shaped “badge” with a blue Z on it. He told her it’s the “official getaway driver of the zombie apocalypse” badge, and she fucking beamed with pride.

  “Heck no. That’s mine forever. But this might be better.”

  When I open the white box, I’m surprised to see a small blue enamel pin.

  “Uh...thanks...” I raise my eyebrow in question. “You want me to wear this?”

  Ivy rolls her eyes. “Look closer.”

  I pick up the pin and study it.

  A blue cornflower.

  On the pin is a picture of a blue cornflower, and my eyes shoot to hers.

  “This way your Bachelor’s Button will never wilt,” she says quietly, and my heart races.

  “And what does that mean?”

  Her smile grows and her dimple pops. “It means the girl you’ve fallen for returns your feelings.”

  I swallow, and I’m pretty sure I fucking blush a little.

  “Ivy Rivenbark, are you saying you have feelings for me?” I tease despite my thundering heart, and she nods seriously.

  “Very strong feelings,” she whispers, running her hands up my chest and stretching on her tiptoes to press a kiss to my lips. “I’m saying I’m in love with you, Kelley Allen Pierce.”

  We’re both smiling, and I press my forehead to hers. “I’m in love with you back,” I say, and then I kiss her again.

  Epilogue

  The first day of spring semester is in two days. My last first day of undergrad. It’s strange. Part of me wants to savor it so I can bask in nostalgia, and the other part just wants to get it the fuck over with.

  Knowing all of the changes on the horizon, how we’re all leaving one phase of life and standing on the cusp of another, fills me with excitement and dread. I’m excited to get into my own classroom, but I’m gonna fucking miss undergrad.

  I spent most of my winter break back home with Ivy and our families. With Allison and Matthew now staying with Ivy’s mom, though, she stayed over at my house frequently.

  It wasn’t a hardship.

  I smirk when I think about all the ways she and I got comfortable in my childhood home. I finally got to spread her out on my bed, just like I’d always fantasized, and I will never look at the pool table in my media room the same way ever again. Just the thought has me shifting my stance to relieve the tightness in my jeans.

  As I’m unpacking my laundry and reliving every single moan I pulled from Ivy over the break, I hear my bedroom door open and my entire body fucking erupts in tingles. I don’t even try to fight the grin. I don’t have to hide it anymore.

  “Kelley,” she croons behind me.

  “Ivy,” I greet back, then I shut my dresser drawer and turn to face her. “Hi, baby.”

  “Hi,” she smiles sweetly, and I look her over. I just saw her this morning, but I swear I’ll never get enough. I want to commit every look, every outfit, every moo
d, every smile to memory so that I am never without her. Until she’s tattooed on the back of my fucking eyelids.

  “I love it when you look at me like that,” she says as she leans against my now closed bedroom door.

  “How?”

  “With reverence. With love. Like I’m the most important thing in the room.” She walks toward me, and I grab her hips to pull her close as soon as she’s within arm’s reach.

  “The room. The city. The fucking galaxy, Ivy Jean.” I kiss her lips with a passion that I hope conveys how much I mean those words.

  “Mmmm,” she hums against my lips and walks me backward until I’m bumping into my desk chair, then she grabs my shoulders and nudges me down into the seat.

  “You know what other look I love?” she asks seductively, and I watch as she pulls her shirt over her head and drops it to the floor, showing off her full breasts in a sexy blue lace bra. Then she hooks her fingers into the band of her leggings and pulls them down over her thick thighs, exposing a matching thong.

  I can’t tear my eyes away. My gaze drags over every curve, every dip, every inch of skin. I’ve touched it all, tasted it all, and it’s all mine.

  “That one,” she whispers, and I lift my eyes from her gorgeous body and up to her smirking face. “That look right there. Like you want to worship my body with your body.”

  I match her smirk and reach out, hooking my index fingers into the sides of the scrap of lace she calls underwear. “You like when I look at you like I’m going to finger fuck your pussy and suck on your clit until you’re trembling?” I pull her closer. “Or like I want to sink my cock deep into you, pound into that sexy as fuck body until you’re screaming my name?”

  She nods, blue eyes swimming with desire. I squeeze her ass cheeks with my hands as my mouth clamps down on her nipple through her bra. The moan she releases goes straight to my dick. She pulls my shirt over my head and I unclasp her bra, but just as I’m about to lavish her chest with kisses, she drops to her knees in front of me.

  I’m panting, the sight alone—Ivy Rivenbark, topless and breathless and kneeling between my legs—shoots sparks of need straight down my spine until I’m diamond-level hard. When she bites her lip and reaches for my zipper, I could come on the spot.