“I see you started up our show,” she says as she stands up. “I’ll get the popcorn, and you go to the guide. See if there’s a horror film coming up soon. Do you think they put that IT movie on there yet?” she asks and pads into the kitchen. I hear the door of the pantry door open and close.
“I doubt it. It only recently came out.” I grab the remote and switch to the guide when the couch seat vibrates. “But there is…” I can’t concentrate because of the vibration.
What is that?
I lift my right leg and find Red’s cracked phone vibrating around. I pick it up and intend on holding it out for her, but my curiosity gets the best of me, and I look at the screen. I frown at the unfamiliar name. I haven’t heard her talk about this person before.
“Who’s Lucille?” I ask her loud enough that she quickly closes the microwave and jogs over. She leans over the couch and snags her phone. I intently watch her face for a clue, but she just casually hits decline before tucking the phone in her back pocket.
“I need to get my phone fixed,” she utters, missing my question by miles. Before I can even open my mouth and formulate a question, she’s walking back into the question and opening the fridge.
“Who’s Lucille?” I ask again and turn around in the couch, sitting on my knees. I watch her bend over in front of the open fridge.
“A friend,” she answers in a clipped tone. “Do you want juice, or soda, or water?” she asks like she isn’t being so weird. Crazy, odd theories of who this person is and does makes my stomach churn, and I press for a more descriptive answer.
“Water’s fine. I’ve never heard of a Lucille,” I say, and she tenses for a second before I hear the water fill up a glass. That tension never leaves her body as she takes the ready popcorn out of the microwave when a loud beep rings through the air.
“Maybe because you don’t know all of my friends,” she snaps and walks into the living room with my water and a bowl with the popcorn, a can of Pepsi under her arm.
“Maybe because you haven’t introduced me to them all,” I snap back, and she rolls her eyes. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” She pops open the can, and I watch her gulp from it.
“Snap at me.”
“You snapped back.” She stares at me with incredulous, wide eyes.
“Because you did it first,” I say calmly. I really don’t want to get in a fight with her. She stares at me with an unreadable expression. Does she want to fight, run away from it and the darkness lingering around my curiosity?
She shocks me by looking away from me and at the TV. “She’s a friend I’ve known since high school.”
“Can I meet her?” I ask her.
“No,” she says without any type of hesitation. A stinging sensation stabs me in the chest, and I look down at the bowl of popcorn. Why does she insist on hiding behind a wall? Why won’t she ever step out and be one hundred percent real with me? No bullshitting, no wall, no lies, no secrets, no secret meetings with my father. The growing frustration fuels my next words.
“I stopped by my father’s company today, to curse him out for what he said last night.”
I didn’t have to be watching her remotely close to see the jump in her face. She doesn’t face me as her thumb cocks the metal tab of her canned soda back and forth. Nervously. She’s anxious about how much I know, surely.
“And did you?” she asks, and I can practically hear the rest of what she wants to ask: see me there, conspiring with him?
I begin to answer her when there’s a vibration again. A growl slips out of my mouth. Is it Lucille again? I’m so upset that I almost miss her telling me no one’s calling her, that it’s my own phone. A hot blush runs along my neck and settles in my cheeks. I pull out my phone from my back pocket and answer it. It’s Rachel, though I wouldn’t know because of how she sounds over the phone.
“Hello, Noah?” she slurs. I can barely hear her above the noise behind her.
“Are you at a party?” I sit up, alert; Red frowns in my peripheral and watches me as I listen to Rachel reply.
“Um…yeah…I think I drank too…” She sucks in a large breath and exhales over a scream behind her. “I need you,” she mutters, and I can imagine her rubbing her face. Vulnerable in a frat party. I didn’t even know she went to them; they don’t look like her kind of scene.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Find Mike or Ty and don’t move from their side until I get there,” I instruct and turn the TV off. I rush over to the front door and jump into a pair of Converse.
“Okay…can you please hurry? I don’t feel good. At all,” she slurs, voice strained and loopy. She sounds drunk, but she doesn’t drink. She’s attended one of my post-Red parties, and I never saw her even sip from a beer. Not once.
“Did you accept a drink from anyone?” I speak calmly, softly. I don’t want to freak her out.
“N-no,” she stammers and sniffles. “But I drink a few shots.”
I groan as I open the closet door for my jean jacket. “You don’t drink shots, Rach…I’ll be there soon. All right? Just sit tight and do not follow any guy anywhere. I don’t care if he offers you a freaking puppy, all right?”
She giggles like she’s high out of her mind. “Ha. Puppy,” she mewls.
I shake my head with a frantic heartbeat as I repeat what I said about keeping still then end the call. The possibility of someone slipping a roofie in her drink makes it hard for me to breathe. I’ll kill anyone who tries to mess with her.
“Where are you going?” Red asks from behind me as I fling open the front door.
“To the frat house—Rach needs my help,” I say and glance at the elevator behind me then back at her. I need to leave, now. I don’t have time for her to accuse my best friend of something ridiculous.
“I’m coming,” she surprises me by saying. She runs over to the couch for her jacket then jogs back over. I smile appreciatively before rushing to the frat house for my friend.
***
The drive to the fraternity house I lived in months ago was stressful. I couldn’t stop thinking of what made my friend so close to incoherent over the phone. Did she willingly drink those shots? If so, for what reason? I wracked my mind. She isn’t in a relationship, so she couldn’t have drunk so much to forget about a guy or get over a breakup. When I clawed through my mind enough, I came back to the disgusting theory.
“Go get her—I’ll wait here,” Red says as I near the frat house.
I nearly trip and fall over my face when I pull up in front of the fraternity. A party is underway. I skip through a valley of red Solo cups and wind through the sweaty bodies inside of the house. I look around frantically in the kitchen, living room, and the few rooms on the first floor.
I’m pulling out my phone when I bump into Mike.
“Hey.” He smiles from ear to ear, but it drops when he notices my frazzled expression. “What’s wrong?” he asks, and his shoulders square with the intention of helping me out. God, he’s such a good guy.
“Rachel,” I breathe out, and he’s already gathering guys before I finish explaining how drunk she is. “Thank you for helping,” I say to him, and his jaw clenches.
“Of course. I’m worried about her, too. I swear, I didn’t even know she was here,” he says, frustrated, and bites his lip, looking around desperately. The care and love he has for her is clear in his brown eyes.
I lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, smiling softly. “We’ll find her. I promise.”
He nods wordlessly and walks away to find her.
I text her, asking her where she is, as I jog up the stairs. I nearly slip in a puddle of spilled beer. I growl in anger before climbing the steps. I look through the rooms and am so close to tracking her somehow when I hear a mewl in my old room. I raise an eyebrow and push open the door.
She’s curled up on my bed, and when she hears the door creak open, she moans, “Noah?”
“It’s me—I’m here.” I walk over to her briskly a
nd pull her into my chest. I have my hands tucked under her back and the back of her knees. She reeks of vomit and vodka, and she grins, loopy, her eyes half closed.
“Yay! I missed you.” She snuggles her face in my neck.
I chuckle and walk out of the room and start down the stairs. “Mike will be glad to know you’re safe,” I tell her as I push through the crowd.
“What? W-why?” she stammers, slurring and playing with my hair.
I cringe but smile. “Because he cares a lot about you, Rachel. We all do.”
“You don’t,” she whispers so low, I don’t think she meant for me to hear, but I do, and it makes me frown.
“What? Of course I do. Why would you think that?” I ask and avoid the crowd of red Solo cups and a stumbling girl as I step out onto the patio. I nod to a lacrosse player before focusing on getting her to the car.
She shrugs so solemnly, it pains my heart. “Because…” she says. I don’t know if she wants to say more or not, because I’m nearing the car and Red is leaning against the car. Her expression is unreadable, but I don’t have time to attempt to understand her right now.
“Open the door for me, please,” I say.
She doesn’t move for a beat, but then she nods and opens the back door. Her eyes are intensely trained on me as I gently lay Rachel on the leather seats.
“Did you wear a jacket?” I ask, noticing her bare arms and legs.
She nods wordlessly.
“Okay, I’ll go get it. I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t leave. Please don’t leave me,” she pleads, and tears glisten in her brown eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m taking you home,” I promise and smile softly. I caress her cheek for her to smile and nod, laying back on the seat. I back up and look at her. Her brunette hair is a tangled mess, and she’s wearing an incredibly short purple dress. There’s a hickey on her neck, and I gasp.
“Rach, I told you not to go with any guy. Who did that to your neck?” I say and watch a smile curve her mouth. “Rachel?”
“Nick,” she mutters.
“Nick? Who the hell is Nick? Rach?” I press when she just moans and turns in the seat. I shut the door and look at the house. “I’ll be back. Watch her for a minute. I’ve gotta get her jacket,” I say to Red.
“I heard,” she murmurs, but she doesn’t sound pissed off. She’s just staring at Rachel sleeping through the passenger window with an odd look on her face.
“Okay…” She’s being weird, but I want to get Rachel home and in her bed. I rush back into the house and up the stairs. There’s a couple making out on my old bed, and I thankfully don’t find the jacket underneath their half naked bodies, but on the ground. When I jog back outside, the last thing I expected to find was Red slapping Rachel to the ground.
Rachel lets out a blood curdling scream and holds up her hand. When I’m near her, I see the blood glistening on her arm.
“Red! What the fuck?” I drop to my friend’s side and rub her back.
Red’s chest is heaving wildly, bloodlust in her eyes. “She said…she—she fucking said…”
I look at Rachel instead and ignore Red’s hurt gasp. “What happened?” I ask firmly, trying not to blow up. I leave for a few seconds and Red finds a way to make me even more pissed at her! First she’s keeping secrets and now she’s smacking my fucking friend around! What the hell is wrong with her?
“I got out because I felt like I had to vomit, and I didn’t want to mess up your car,” Rachel stammers and holds onto me, her bloody bottom lip quivering slightly. “When—when she just smacked me.”
“That’s not what happened, you lying bitch!” Red snaps.
“Shut up!” I snap at her, and she gasps again. “What the hell is wrong with you, Red? How could you do something like this?”
“Noah, I…I…” she stammers, pleading for me to understand her lashing out for no reason with wide and desperate eyes.
But I can’t forgive her, can’t understand her. Not when my friend is bleeding because she won’t stop hiding stories from me. All I have ever wanted was her to let me in, to trust me enough so I don’t feel like I’m in the dark. But instead of letting me all the way in, she does things like this—she fucks up.
“No.” My voice is too heavy to hold, and it falls and shatters on the ground.
She stumbles back like I shot her with the word. “Noah, please—”
“Why don’t you just run off to my father and tell him my secret: I’m compassionate, unlike you!” I scream and watch a million emotions cross her eyes. It hurts too much to look at her, and it’s even worse looking down at Rachel. “Just…just go.”
I want to retract the words. Kiss her head and hear the truth…but the truth will just boil down to the fact that she hurt my friend. And there is no justifying it whatsoever. I never thought she was this out of her fucking mind.
When a few moments pass and it becomes too hard to look at Rachel when I’d rather be peering into a familiar set of eyes, I look over my shoulder…only to find nothing but my car.
Chapter Forty
Red
“Where are we going? Red…Red!” Majesty shouts my name, and I stop walking. We’ve been aimlessly walking around the town square. Only I’ve been dragging her around silently. I don’t know why I’m here or what I’m doing, but I just had to clear my head.
Before he can brew in my head for too long, I tug at her hand. I need my friend by my side. She usually brings me instant comfort and wise words, but right now I just need to feel her hand in mine, to know I am not alone with my poisonous thoughts.
“I don’t know,” I mumble, weaving between kiosks, each selling cheap jewelry. Images of Noah kissing my neck and telling me he still loves me flash across my brain, and I feel warm and better…until the memory of him screaming at me and looking at me in disgust last night crosses my mind. I stop, and she runs into my back.
“Red, you have to tell me what’s going on,” Majesty pleads and grips my wrists. She pulls my shaky hands down and stands closer to me. Her honey-brown eyes are searching my tearful ones for words I’m too stunned to even utter. “Red…please, tell me what’s going on.”
I shut my mouth and try to keep the words in, but I let out a gut-wrenching sob and blurt out, “I love Noah.”
“How is that a problem? Babe, I don’t understand.” She smiles softly, but I can see the confusion and sympathy in her eyes.
“I love him, Maj, and it’s a problem because—because it’s me who loves him. If I were someone else, someone deserving, it’d be all right, it’d be perfect, but I’m not. I’m me, and I’m only going to hurt him, but I want him so bad. He’s—he was—the only good thing I ever had in my entire life, and I screwed it up, and I’m just so fucking sorry.” I crash into her open arms, and she rubs my back.
I’m usually guarded with my emotions. I very rarely cry…until four months ago. Since then, I’ve cried nearly every day because I can’t have what I desperately want. I’ve wanted him the very second I saw him. I’ve wanted him the second he kissed me, the moment he took me on our first date, then the second, since he faked hating Nirvana, since he cracked stupid jokes, since everything and anything. I have wanted him then, I want him now, and I’ll want him for the rest of my life.
But I can’t have him if I’m so fucked up I’d slap his friend, because she slurred a name I’d tried to forget for years…and it absolutely breaks my heart.
“For fuck’s sake,” an accented male voice barks behind her. “One escaped from the dirty country. Damn lesbian towel-head. Stop sinning, bitches, and terrorizing everywhere you go!”
My heart stops as she breaks away and hangs her head, avoiding the eyes of the piece of shit man glaring at us like we’re scum. He did not just say that. Rage fills me as I stare at this hipster piece of shit, his pale white skin growing red in disgust. And what’s more…he spits in front of us then sneers as the girl beside him tugs on his hand, apologetic. But she can’t apologize
for this piece of shit.
I move to scream at him, but Maj whispers, “Please, don’t—just let him go. Not worth it…” And the sadness and how submissive she is just unleash my rage.
“No, this isn’t okay.” I rip my hand out of hers, eyes wide.
“Red, no, don’t.” She tries to calm me down frantically, but it’s too late.
I rush over to the man and land a punch on his jaw. He stumbles back into a kiosk, and beaded bracelets fly in the air. He tries to dodge my fist, but I smack his hand away and knock my fist into his nose. Over and over, until I hear it break over his girlfriend’s cry.
I don’t stop punching wildly for even a brief second. Not when he begs me to stop, not when Maj screams it, not when he’s unconscious. I just keep punching until red is all I see and the tears cloud my eyes.
***
Noah
The minute the events of last night hit me when I wake up the next day, the more dumbfounded I am. I just don’t understand how any of that happened. Starting with Rachel getting plastered. I plan to question her the second she wakes up. She’s sleeping in one of the guest rooms. I wanted to clean and bandage her arm and ice her mouth and keep an eye on her through the night.
I must have wracked my brain a million times until it hurt to think, and I drifted off to dreamland. Why in the world would Red slap Rachel like that? The girl couldn’t hurt a fly or hurt a living soul, so why just hurt my friend like that? Was she jealous and it overcame her and she became so blind to it, she just snapped? It kind of sounds like her, I have to admit, as memories of her fighting Beth and that random hyena girl a long way back.
She hits first and asks questions after—it’s what I don’t like about her. She is the most temperamental person I know, but it’s not only that, she gets way too possessive over me. I normally find it hot when she presses against me as we walk down a street or kisses me in front of a girl checking me out. I live for that shit…but not violently launching her fist or palm against anyone and everyone who has their eyes set on me.
Red: Fiery Finale (Spectrum Series Book 8) Page 28
