He hands it over, a strange look on his face. I look down at the screen, already open to a received video message from Kara. The subject reads, “Dirty slut opens wide.” My fingers are almost shaking too hard to push the play button. I don’t know why I need to watch it when I already know what’s on it. I feel Dean’s strong body against my back, steadying me. He puts his hands on my hips, and watches over my shoulder. Barely breathing, I tap the play button.
The video starts in the bathroom, focusing on the space through the cracked open door. It goes out of focus for a second, then comes back much sharper. Just like the video I watched, except—
The screen goes black for a second, and then…
The scene changes. I blink in astonishment. Instead of Dean and I getting it on, there’s Kara, sitting at a table and stuffing her face with a huge slice of pizza. The video is shaky, and kind of blurry, but you can definitely tell it’s her…holy shit, she’s a total pig! After she devours the slice in a record-breaking amount of time, she goes after another piece. There’s pizza sauce all over her chin, on one cheek, and on her forehead.
My mouth open, I look up at Ben. “How…?”
Ben’s dark eyes are dancing with smug amusement, and he’s grinning his ass off. “Don’t question genius. But you can name your firstborn after me as payment.”
Dean and I exchange stunned, laughing looks. “You switched the video instead of erasing it,” Dean says, the corners of his eyes crinkling up in amusement. “Sneaky son of a bitch.”
“What I did was a little trickier than that, since I wanted to keep some of the original footage in the beginning.” Ben gestures to himself proudly. “Damn, it’s good to be me. Now I wish I hadn’t thrown out my wand and fairy godmother badge.”
Chuckling, Dean slaps him on the back. “I owe you, man.”
“Nah, I’ve been looking to get that bitch back.” His face darkens. “She gave Arianna a lot of shit last year.”
“Thank you!”
I spring forward and throw my arms around his neck. “Seriously, Ben, I will definitely name my firstborn after you. You. Are. Awesome!”
“Don’t I know it.” He disentangles himself from my arms. “But thank me in private—not when the big guy is staring daggers at me.”
I shoot a quick glance at Dean, who’s looking a little cranky. I’m too relieved to care. Smiling, I turn back to Ben. “You’re gonna need to erase our sex video from your private collection, though.”
He scowls at me. “Am I not allowed to have any fun?” Dean smacks the back of his head, and he flinches. “Okay, okay! I’ll erase it!”
I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off of me. Dean and I leave Ben’s without saying goodbye to the other guys (the no underwear thing has me really self-conscious). Dean looks really tired. I shyly offer to take care of him at my house, but he doesn’t want me driving that far at night.
“Go to my house,” he says, letting his head fall back on the headrest of the passenger seat. “Stay with me tonight.”
“Oh…um…”
“No one’s home,” he reassures me, keeping his eyes closed. “And I want you in my bed.”
I quickly look away so he doesn’t see my little grimace. I’m going to have to sleep all night on his horrible rock bed? Well, I guess it’s worth it as long as he’s there. I’ll just sleep mostly on top of him.
I text my mom to let her know that I’ll be at Dean’s for the night. A few minutes later, she sends me a reply, saying to do what I want. So…great.
As soon as we get to his house, I make a beeline for his room, and for the shower. We take one together, too tired to do anything more than kiss. Then Dean falls into bed, naked and exhausted. As soon as I lie down next to him, he passes out. It takes me a few minutes to get comfortable, but being in his arms again is the best kind of heaven.
I stare up at the stars on his ceiling until I eventually surrender to the weight of my eyelids.
******
Chapter 53
Dean wakes me up at about ten the next morning with a box of pastries from my favorite bakery—and a bag of stuff from my house!
“When did you get all this?!” I exclaim, happily digging through my bag. Yay, underwear! And he even remembered my deodorant and my lotion! God, I love him.
“Just got back,” he says, throwing his keys on his desk. “Your mom wasn’t there.”
I’m already heading toward the bathroom, a blanket wrapped around me and my bag slung over one shoulder. “That’s probably for the best,” I say without turning around. “I’m going to jump in the shower.”
“Then we’ll talk.”
“Then we’ll talk,” I agree.
After a quick (for me) shower, I’m ready to tell Dean about my little talk with Kara. He remains expressionless throughout my recounting, but then his lips twitch when I get to the part about punching her. Maybe I’m a little too detailed, but it’s the part I remember most fondly.
And from the look on his face, I think he’s enjoying the mental image.
“Are you sure about this?”
Dean shuts the engine, and turns to me with a searching look. We’re in the parking lot of the police station—and I really wish I hadn’t had so many pastries this morning. They’re firmly wedged in my throat right now, about to make a second appearance. Damn, why do I have to be a cryer and a puker?
“Yeah,” I say finally, staring down at the flash drive in my hand. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Dean opens his door, but before he gets out, he grabs my hand, and gives it a reassuring squeeze. I smile shakily. We can do this.
I realize that at some point we’d have to call our parents in, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon. Dean’s father doesn’t answer, but Mom comes rushing down when she finds out I’m at the police station, and not at school.
It’s horrible—but not as bad as I feared. Instead of being annoyed and ashamed of me, Mom shocks me by crying, and giving me a comforting hug. At first, she sits stiffly, and won’t even look in Dean’s direction. But as we talk with the detectives, and I explain everything Dean went through to protect me, she starts shooting him speculative looks. I think I detect a hint of warmth in her eyes. At least, I’m hoping.
I don’t know if it’s good thing that the detectives are football fans, and treat Dean like the favorite son, clapping him on the back, and talking to him like they know him. I guess it takes the focus off of me, and Dean takes their over-enthusiasm in stride.
“Wow, Dean Youngblood,” Detective Pacheco gushes, holding up the Styrofoam football Dean just autographed for him. I want to laugh at how carefully he places it in a desk drawer. “This is gonna be worth something some day.”
Yeah? Probably not as much as Dean Youngblood’s sex video. Ugh.
Despite their fanboy behavior, they seem like good cops. They’re very thorough and detailed, which is both mortifying and reassuring. Everyone’s very sympathetic, but I freak out when Dean reveals that Kara showed the video to Dalton Paley, and some guy named Eli—another one of her screw buddies.
“Did she just show it to them, or do they have copies?” I ask, dreading the answer.
“If they do have copies, they won’t be showing it to anyone else,” Detective Daniel says firmly. He pats my hand. “We have their names, and we’ll make sure the video doesn’t get out. It ends here.”
I smile weakly in return. But I watch the news—I’ve read about cases where videos and pictures are leaked online, and go viral. And the victims…their lives are completely ruined. I don’t know if I can handle that, but I guess if it’s going to happen, then there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Whatever happens, Kara and her cohorts have committed crimes, and they deserve to be punished accordingly.
My dad has to show up when we’re talking about the sex video, of course. He brings Michelle with him, whom I’m both shocked and pleased to see. Michelle hugs both me and Mom, then proceeds to check out Dean. Dad is also staring at Dean, but in
a completely differently way. My good-natured laid back father looks like he wants to tear my boyfriend in half.
“Why did you call him?” I mutter to Mom as Dad starts interrogating Dean like he’s a suspect. Detective Pacheco is trying to intervene, speaking in calm tones to Dad.
“He’s your father,” Mom replies with a shrug. “He has a right to know.”
I stare after her as she walks over to Dad. He whips around to look at her, his eyes bugging out. She gestures toward the door, and with one last glare at Dean, he follows her out. It’s the first time I’ve seen them together in years. It’s kind of cool that they’re not fighting, even if they are discussing ways to keep me locked up until I go away for college.
“So, that’s Dean,” Michelle mutters in my ear, startling me.
I follow her gaze to him. He’s talking with the detectives, tall and in control, and mature beyond his years. Dad’s hostility doesn’t seem to faze him, and I’m proud of how respectful he is to both my parents. He sees me looking at him, and his impassive expression transforms into something warm and intimate.
“Daaaaamn,” Michelle sings in my ear. “Does he have an older brother?”
“Well, he has a stepbrother, but I dated him, too,” I point out wryly.
“Kinky, yet intriguing,” she muses, sounding like her old self.
I shake my head at her. Now I know where I inherited my pervert gene!
My parents come back in the room, and Dad is much more calm, thank goodness. I don’t think he’s made the connection with Dean’s last name, but it looks like Mom enlightened him. He’s looking at Dean now with a weird combination of wariness and embarrassment. You know, I guess it’s a good thing that Dean’s father is a no-show. I can just imagine the bloodshed that would occur. I wonder if they know each other, and if Mr. Youngblood still holds a grudge. If so, I hope Dean loves me enough to hold his father back. My dad’s a lover, not a fighter.
Ugh, forget I said that. A disgusting mental image of him and Cherise just popped into my head.
I slump into a chair, suddenly completely exhausted. Dean is immediately there, rubbing my back.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
“I’m fine, I just want this to be over with.” I lean both elbows on the table, and rest my head in my hands. “God, this is so humiliating.”
“Hey,” he says, and tilts my face up to his. “Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it. I won’t let you get hurt again.”
I manage a feeble smile. “What, are you gonna beat up everyone who gives me a hard time?”
“I have no problem with that,” Dean replies, completely serious.
That gets a laugh out of me. “And what if it’s a girl?”
“Then I’m sure you’ll be able to handle yourself, slugger.”
A snort escapes me. Dad hears me, and glares at Dean like—I don’t know—like he’s whipped it out, and is chasing me around the table with it. That image makes me bury my face in my arms, my shoulders heaving. It’s totally inappropriate. I hope everyone thinks I’m sobbing. Dean gives me a few half-hearted pats to maintain the illusion, though I know he can hear my gasping giggles. I’m sure he doesn’t know what to make of it.
Dean finally gets a hold of his dad, who agrees to come down to the station—but it will take a while because he’s bringing his lawyer with him. Why does he need a lawyer? I ask Dean, but he only answers with a half-hearted shrug. I want to stay and wait with him, but my parents want to leave, and Dean convinces me to go. Both Mom and Dad shake his hand before we leave, astonishing me. Michelle gives him a hug, and I’m pretty sure she copped a feel of his abs.
The adults decide to do lunch, though I’ve never felt less hungry in my life. Dad picks a Mexican restaurant that we used to go to all the time because Mom loved their red sauce. I push my enchiladas around on my plate, and watch my parents cautiously talk and smile at each other. Michelle stays pretty quiet, only responding to questions directed at her. The sparkle in her eye is gone.
Dad and I wait outside the restaurant while Mom and Michelle visit the restroom, and it’s there that he decides to begin the most awkward conversation in human history. I don’t want to repeat it, I just want to strike it from my memory. Mercifully, it’s short—and then Dad starts talking about Dean’s quarterback stats. He seems to like Dean better than he did Johnny—whom he did not trust at all. He still threatens to kick Dean’s ass, “no matter how big he is,” if he hurts me.
As soon as I get home, I call Heather, who arrives on my doorstep twenty minutes later with a huge carton of Boppy’s Mochalatta Crunch. We check online for any activity, but there’s nothing unusual. Heather informs me that she’s seen the video of Kara going down on some pizza, and would like her number, please. I’m almost tempted to give it to her.
“Either she made her profile private, or she deleted her account,” Heather is saying, busily typing away on her phone. “I’m betting she deleted it, because I know I saw her on Sloane’s friend list and now…yeah, she’s not on there, anymore. Ha!”
“Hey, who’s that guy?” I ask, pointing to Sloane’s profile picture. Her arms are wrapped around a very tall, slim, dark-skinned guy.
Heather loses her smile. “That’s Slater. They met through her modeling agency. They just started dating.”
“Oh. Sorry.” I fight to keep my tone neutral, though I can feel my left eyelid twitching madly. “Um…are you okay with that?”
Heather stares daggers at the picture, before waving a hand in the air. “Whatever. She never promised to be exclusive with me. I don’t think she knows what she wants.”
She wants people to worship her—but I don’t say that out loud. Really, I don’t like that girl. Especially after Heather told me that Sloane was the one who told Kara about my father and Dean’s mother. I knew Dean wouldn’t have said anything!
“Huh,” I mutter, twisting a piece of string hanging from my shirt. “Are you sure you want to follow her to NYU?”
Heather makes a face at me. “Are you following Dean to LSU?” she counters.
“I haven’t decided yet,” I say snootily. “And he said he’d go wherever I want.”
“He signed with LSU, he kinda has to go there,” Heather points out. She digs out a huge spoonful of Mochalatta Crunch and points it at me.
“He would walk away from it if I wanted him to,” I say. I know I’m wearing a disgustingly sappy grin, but I don’t care.
“Yeck.”
Heather catapults a blob of ice cream at my face. It hits me in the forehead, and slides down my nose. It’s disgusting…and delicious.
“You’re so immature.” I wipe my face off with a napkin, then I grab her bowl and lick the whole top of her ice cream. I set it back in front of her with a flourish.
She sputters a laugh. “Nice tongue action. Dean’s a lucky guy.”
“Gross.”
“So…” Heather stares at her ice cream, as if trying to decide whether she should still eat it. “What happens now? Are you gonna have to testify against Kara?”
“Probably.” I grimace at the thought. “The detectives told me it will probably take months to interview everyone, and, you know, gather evidence. They said they’d keep our names out of it—but things get leaked all the time. Not because anyone would want to see me—but Dean’s a different story He’s Dean Youngblood, star quarterback and a walking Abercrombie and Fitch ad. I’ll just be the little slut who kept begging him for more.”
Heather turns to look at me curiously. “Did you really? Beg, I mean.”
I throw a pillow at her. “Shut up.”
“Aw, come on, Jujubee. It’s going to be okay. You’re not just some dirty little slut—you’re Dean’s dirty little slut. And if anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll go all gangster lesbian on their ass.”
“Heather, you big goober, I love you.”
“Bitch, I know,” she replies smugly.
******
Chapter 54
The good news
is no one cares about me, or my relationship with Dean anymore. Kara and Dalton have disappeared from school, and the rumors run rampant. No one knows anything, but out group—and amazingly, all of us are keeping our mouths shut. Even knife-wielding Bobo (who is now dating Tanya, one of the biggest gossips I’ve ever met) keeps silent about the whole thing, though he tells us that Kara is trying to pin the whole thing on Dalton, claiming that he’s the mastermind behind everything, and she just went along with it because she was intimidated by him. Gag. I really hope the investigators aren’t dumb enough to fall for her boobs. I mean, her bullshit.
Mr. Rigby resigns that same week, and I hear he’s throwing the full weight of the Giroux name (and money) around to ensure that Kara’s criminal activities are kept quiet. Because how would it look if the girl who’s mother, biological father, and stepfather are all in the mental health field—is a raging psycho? It really pisses me off that she might actually get away with it, but if she does, I hope she comes after me. I’d love to knock her on her ass again.
Dean and I go back to spending all of our free time together, though he doesn’t sleep over out of respect for my mother. The more we hang out, the more I realize that we don’t have a whole lot in common, but so far that doesn’t seem to be a problem. I happily tag along when he wants to check out a car he found online, and when he works on cars, I hang out in the garage with him, reading or listening to music. He takes me to any movie I want to see without complaining, and I teach him how to cook basic meals. We even work out together—well, he works out, and I drool over him while he lifts weights. It’s a workout for my eyes, so that counts.
We talk about everything. Okay, I talk—but his listening skills are unparalleled. The way to get Dean to open up is to keep asking the same questions, but in different ways. In other words, be really annoying. He doesn’t seem to mind, and I’ve found out some really interesting things about him—like, he watches game shows religiously, and once stood in line to be in the audience for Family Feud! I have to pretend I’m looking for something under the bed so he doesn’t see me giggling hysterically. I love how matter-of-fact he is when he admits to things that would embarrass other people.
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