by S. Massery
“Hey,” he says. “I just got your regular. Where’s all your stuff?”
Abducted, I almost say, but I catch myself at the last second. “Um…”
“Coming, Buckley?” Liam calls. His voice practically resonates in the quiet space.
I wince.
Mitch’s gaze goes from open to shuttered, and he glares over my head. “Right. Excuse me, Skylar.”
“What are you going to—”
“Relax.” He sets down the coffees and pats my shoulder on his way by. “He won’t punch me in public.”
It’s really not public he should be worried about.
I sink deeper into my chair and close my eyes.
“She was sitting with me,” Mitch says.
“She may be sitting at your table now, but I think she’ll be with me in no time.” Liam sounds… bored.
Like Mitch really isn’t a challenge to him. Thinking I might not be able to control my own reaction, I slip out of my chair and leave. I duck down one of the stacks, and then another. The back half of the library is like a maze, and I take advantage.
It isn’t until I reach the metal spiral staircase in the back that I pause. I grip the cold railing, glance around, then quickly climb.
The second floor isn’t accessed by this staircase. In fact, no one ever really ventures so far back into the nonfiction section that I’m not convinced most of the school knows it’s here.
It goes to a cluster of study rooms. There’s an elevator at the end of the corridor, too.
I’m not sure what my plan is. Hang out here until Mitch or Liam leaves?
Fuck that. I’m not Liam’s puppet, jerking whenever he pulls my strings. And I’m definitely not some chess piece to be manipulated between them.
I go back down the stairs.
Liam stands at the bottom, hands braced either side of the railing.
I pause a few steps above. Butterflies erupt in my belly, but I can’t tell if they’re good or I’m just anxious.
“Well?” I demand, since he seems set on just staring at me. “You got your way, I suppose?”
“The idiot didn’t even realize you were gone.” His smile is smug. “He thought he won the argument, collected your bag and books, and when he turned around… I’ll admit, it was the best outcome.”
I take a step down. I’m still a few inches higher than him, and it’s a new experience to be the one looking down. Not particularly a bad one, though.
“Your bullheadedness ran me off,” I say. “I’ll make sure to tell him that when I talk to him next.”
“Fuck that,” he scoffs. “He’s all roses and sunshine, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” I counter. “Which I think is much needed in a time like this.”
He rises a step, bringing us within reach of each other. He’s still got me boxed in. “You think sunshine will save you, Sky? It can’t burn away the dark clouds you have looming in here.” He taps my chest.
I flinch back, but he wraps his hand around my waist and pulls me flush against him.
“Don’t run,” Liam warns.
I scoff. “Don’t make me want to run.”
His grip tightens. “I can’t decide if the chase would be fun or just… a game to be won. Because you’re not that, right?”
I cock my head. “Does anyone want to be a game? Or prey?”
His eyes darken. “I think so.”
A thrill runs through me. Nothing serious with Liam Morrison—just a game. To see who wins… It’d be reckless. Stupid, even. He’s infamous on campus, has friends in high places, and knows my deep dark secrets.
Some of them, anyway.
But I know his, too.
“All right,” I whisper.
He pauses. “What are you agreeing to?”
“May the best woman win,” I say.
I duck under the railing and hop off the step, grabbing my bag. I dash down the stacks and straight out the doors. I’ll run all the way home if I have to—but I don’t think that’ll be necessary.
Mitch is waiting for me, leaning on the stone wall that frames the library’s garden.
“I had a feeling Liam was bluffing,” he says.
I take the coffee he offers me. “About me leaving?”
“Yep.” He glances behind us and sidles closer. “We can study back at my place, if you want?”
I hesitate.
“Oh, jeez,” he says. “I didn’t mean it to come off like that. Just studying. I can make dinner. When’s the last time you had a home-cooked meal?”
Well, it would be a nice fuck-you to Liam.
But beyond that… I could use some sunshine in my life. And Mitch smiling at me seems like the closest thing to sunshine that I’m going to get.
14
Liam
My mood is considerably bleaker after Sky leaves with Mitch.
The fucker is smarter than he looks.
Halfway across campus, headed back to my apartment, I am flagged down by Colt and RJ. They ran Howl but somehow escaped almost entirely free of scrutiny. I took the brunt of media force, and they’ve thrown some fights my way. Nothing major—nothing like Howl. But it keeps money in my pocket.
It pays not to rat out your friends.
“Where you going?” Colt asks.
They both pivot and walk beside me.
“Home.”
He grunts. “Nah, I don’t think so. You seem like you’re itching for a fight.”
And who am I to say no to that?
I’m worse than a junkie. Fighting—the money, the adrenaline—is my addiction.
Winning is my addiction, too, and Sky just threw down the ultimate challenge.
I eye them. There’s been not-too-subtle rumors about Howl restarting. Rumors that coast just below the administration’s ears.
Still, there are police marching around. In the face of chaos, it’s generally not a good idea to add more.
“Aren’t you lying low?” I ask.
RJ scoffs. “Why? This is the perfect time. Everyone is distracted.”
Capitalizing on tragedy.
At least they’re straightforward about it.
“We’ve been on the rocks since Sophomore year,” RJ continues. “And why the fuck have we seen you fraternizing with the enemy? Did you forget she blasted your face to the whole planet, then left you to dry?”
I push my shoulders back. “It isn’t so simple.”
“It is,” Colt argues. “Listen, man. We’ve never mentioned it before because it was just water under the bridge, you know? She humiliated you—and through you, us. We had to shut down Howl for almost two years. This is the first year people haven’t come into Ashburn squawking about it. Our anonymity is back, baby!”
I groan. “Yours is, sure.”
“People will come to see you fight, asshole.” He elbows me. “So?”
A fight could settle my nerves… and get my dad off my back. He called me just this morning asking about when the parent PLUS loan he signed will kick in. I told him I had it covered. Payments were going to come from my account after the six-month deferment is up. I only have this year left to save as much money as possible.
“Next time,” I mutter to them. My mind is scattered. I’d be useless in a fight, all my attention on Sky and the asshole, Mitchel Norton.
“Fine,” RJ calls. “We’ll be in contact.”
Great.
I make it home without incident. Not that I was expecting any trouble—who would want to fuck with me?—but when I walk inside, Theo waits for me. He’s the only one I’ve trusted with a key… mainly in part because he owns the building. And I can’t count how many times I’ve come home to find him on my couch.
Now, though, he stands by the kitchen with a glass of dark liquor.
He has Sky’s sweater in his hand. The one she forgot this morning, wearing my hoodie instead. I wish she had kept it on all day, but when I saw her next, she had changed.
I don’t particularly want it back, either. Seeing her r
oaming around my kitchen wearing it was enough. I had to quickly step up to the breakfast bar to hide my erection.
Part of me had wanted to show her how much I appreciated her ass in those leggings, and the fact that she was walking around with my scent on her.
I’ve kept a lid on the possessiveness for years, but I’m almost at a boiling point. I meant what I said: Mitchel’s fate was in her hands… and now we know how she feels about that.
She doesn’t give a fuck.
Or she’s calling my bluff.
But… I can call hers, too.
Me: Is he keeping his hands to himself?
Sky: He has more self-control than you do.
Me: Maybe check out his nightstand before you go accusing him of that.
I watch the screen. The little typing bubble appears and disappears, which could mean she doesn’t know how to respond. Or she’s thinking of a good comeback.
Or she’s swallowed her nerves and is just going to do it. Give in to her curious nature.
“Your conversation going well?” Theo asks.
“About as well as I could expect,” I answer. “What are you drinking?”
“Bourbon.”
She’s taking too long.
“I’m going over there,” I tell him. “Feel free to let yourself out.”
He raises his glass to me, and I head right back out the door. I’m halfway to Mitch’s building when she finally responds.
Sky: I’m trying to study.
A witty response if I’ve ever seen one.
Sky: How do you know what’s in there?
Me: What happened to studying?
Sky: Why study when I can interrogate you?
Me: Why interrogate me when you can find your answers probably ten feet away? Unless he has you tied to his bedposts already…
I can practically feel her shudder.
I’d give anything to hear what’s going through her head right now, so I do what any rational guy would do: I call her.
She answers on the second ring. “You’re kidding me, right?”
I chuckle and lie, “I don’t know what he has in his nightstand, Sky. But I’m pretty sure every guy keeps his dirty laundry there—in a manner of speaking, of course.”
“What’s in yours, then?” Her voice is audibly lower.
“A toy,” I answer. “Lube. The keys to a pair of fuzzy handcuffs I had to mail back to a girl. Thought it would be funny to leave the keys with me, but alas… I think she had her own set. Pity.”
She scoffs. “What’s it with you and handcuffs, huh?”
“I prefer rope,” I reply in monotone.
She goes silent.
Leaning into our fear—isn’t that what makes us brave? And Sky might just be the bravest person I know, even if she doesn’t realize it.
And how I hate that she doesn’t realize it.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” I lean against the cold brick. Maybe she’s hiding in the bathroom talking to me—wouldn’t that be fun? “Just suck it up. He’s bound to get you in his bedroom eventually.”
I ignore the jealous twinge that travels straight into my knuckles.
She heaves a sigh. “I have to go.”
“Listen, Skylar,” I order.
She pauses, and I shake loose the shock that settles over me. She’s actually going to listen for once?
“Just know that whatever happens next is on you.”
I hang up and put away my phone. I’ll wait until she leaves and see how I’m feeling. I might be frozen to this spot, but she’ll be out sooner than I think.
I hope.
My phone buzzes again, then stops. Again.
I draw it out, confused.
“Mom?”
“Oh my god,” she answers. “Honey, Jake is on his way up there. Missing girls? You two were keeping this from me?”
I roll my eyes. “Unrelated, I’m sure. Everyone is freaking out over nothing.”
She huffs. “I’m not the one with a track record for lying, so I’m going to go ahead and not take your word for it.”
Jake is a junior in college—the same as Sky—and unlike me, he actually did get a full-ride scholarship—purely on academics. I never aspired to be as smart as him, but maybe that was my issue.
He got the short straw: public school, all my hand-me-down shit, the stuff my parents could barely afford to fix let alone buy new. He drove around my crappy, breakdown-prone car his senior year of high school and never complained.
We were always fixing that stupid thing.
I relied more on my friends for rides, and for the first time, I have to consider what Jake did. His best friend lived right next door, but she went to Emery-Rose Elite with me.
Talking to my mother brings out a certain stress that only she seems to be able to create. My neck gets stiff, my cheeks hot. I am calm and smooth under pressure… until I hold a conversation with Mom.
“Can we not do this?” I beg. “Did you tell Jake to leave school? He has classes.”
“He has a bucket of concern for his brother,” she growls. “You will call or text me every day, okay? Obviously we had to do something drastic.”
“Fine,” I snap. “Love you, but I’ve got to go.”
I understand her worry: Sky is the daughter she never had. And missing girls gets on everyone’s nerves.
I stow away my phone and go back to sulking. And then something miraculous happens: Sky flies out of the apartment. Her coat isn’t even on, her eyes wild.
If a person could have hackles, mine would rise.
Norton follows close behind, yelling for her to stop. She hesitates.
I cross the street, my anger spiking.
Itching for a fight—I didn’t realize I needed this.
He reaches for her arm, but then I’m there, stepping into the space between them. I tuck Sky behind me and grab him by the throat.
His eyes go wide. I don’t have a hard grip, but his fingers scramble against my wrist. It’s everyone’s gut reaction, but it rarely works. He could pry one of my fingers back until it broke—or until I let go from the pain. He could go for my eyes, which may or may not work since I’ve got at least two inches on him.
But really, it’s the hysterics that threaten to bubble out of him that irritate me the most.
I squeeze, just to silence his quiet blubbering.
“Listen to me.” My voice is low. It’s a trick Mom used on Jake as a baby, speaking softly to lower their own volume. It works on Mitchel now. “You do not touch her. You don’t fucking look at her. She better not so much as cross your goddamn mind, or I’ll be back, and it won’t be as friendly a visit as this. Got it?”
“Yes,” he rasps.
I shove him away. He stumbles but keeps to his feet, then turns and flees back into his apartment building.
I whirl around and grip Sky’s shoulders. “And you,” I growl, shaking her slightly.
Tears fill her eyes.
“I told you to stay away from him.”
I can’t even find it in me to be sympathetic. If she listened to me, she wouldn’t be here.
“What do you want me to say?” She wipes under her eyes. Mascara is streaked down her cheeks. “That you were right? Fuck you, Morrison.”
“I think you’d like that,” I say glibly.
She narrows her eyes. “I think you’d be the last person I’d fuck, even if we were the only two people on the planet.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, Miss Dramatic.”
“I’m serious. Leave me alone.” She backs up, then whirls on her heel.
I quickly catch up to her, sticking my hands in my pockets. My blood is singing, rushing through me with an odd euphoria. I don’t know why. I can’t explain it.
But if it doesn’t go away soon, I might become addicted.
“Why are you still following me?”
We pause at the street corner.
“Because the last thing I’m going to do is let you walk home alone, Skylar.”
She glares at me, and I know why: I almost never call her Skylar. Buckley, Sky, angel, some other nicknames I’ve come up with on the fly. But never the name everyone else calls her. It sits too heavy on my tongue with a bitter taste.
I strived to be different.
“You gonna tell me what happened? You ran out of there like your ass was on fire.” I’m trying to cover the fact that we’re both unsettled right now. Our pace down the sidewalk is quick, and the unrelenting wind urges us faster.
“I followed your stupid advice,” she says. “But, um, after I found the handcuffs in his drawer, I confronted him about it.”
I snort. “Seriously.”
“Yeah, I wanted to know if he was planning on making a citizen’s arrest, or if he liked to wear them.” She watches me out of the corner of her eye, trying to keep a straight face.
It’s hard to hold back my own smile. “A citizen’s arrest in his own house. He must be expecting a break-in, huh?”
“Hordes of women who can’t control themselves around his display of wealth,” she answers. After another moment, she adds, “He was boring except for that.”
I have a flash to her struggling to get out of my binds. What had I said? Something about fear and truth. They often go hand and hand. Tying her to her bed was an impulsive, dick move. I don’t need to exploit her trauma like that.
Trauma.
How many times had my mother reminded me not to bring it up?
Not to talk about it. With Sky, with anyone. It was her scar to carry, but she held it unknowingly. Cradled this invisible weight alone.
Even as she walks slightly ahead of me now, like she’s trying to outpace me, I wonder if those memories will ever come back.
Or maybe I’ll have to live with it by myself forever.
Part II
The Discovery
15
Sky
My roommate has decided on determined silence rather than confronting me. I’ve forgiven her for the long scratch down my forearm, but I can’t forget it.
I’ve been walking on eggshells in my own apartment.
The college sent out an email that two detectives would be questioning students about Natalie’s disappearance. If we wanted someone from the administration with us, or a lawyer, both were well within our rights. The notice reminded us that, with the exception of a few seventeen-year-old freshmen, all of us were legal adults.
