Red: Fiery Finale (Spectrum Series Book 8)

by Allison White

  Mike stops laughing at a joke when he swings open the door. “Noah…what the hell happened to you?” The shock is clearly evident in the rise in his voice and his roaming eyes. When they take in my soaked suit, vomit on my collar, and most likely bloodshot eyes, he tugs on my suit jacket and pulls me in.

  “Red,” I croak as he closes the door, and I lean against a wall. I close my eyes and hear my voice drop to a cold nothingness. “Red happened to me.”

  ***

  Mike helped me to my old room with Ty, who had the whole room to himself since no one filled the spot in time for this semester. He badgered me with a question roulette, one after the other, relentless, until Mike motioned for him to help me into the bathroom. I didn’t need it and refused, but the second I tried to walk, my heart would rip open and my knees would wobble.

  I showered for an hour on the floor, clawing through every memory, double-checking for sincerity. I found it in every single snippet: of her and me eating cereal, stealing silly glances; of her and me bickering over a scary movie; of my hands snaking under her shirt during classes. Every kiss and touch and glance felt more real than ever…so why did she have to fuck everything up and make me question our good memories?

  In the present, I’m groaning in frustration as I jog down the stairs. I didn’t sleep for a second. I couldn’t. The events from last night were too fresh, too in need of mulling over and dissecting and feeling, over and over again. I was torturing myself, I know, but I needed to feel the pain to know it wasn’t just a horrible, bloody nightmare. But each time I felt that hold on my breathing, the tightness of my chest, I knew it was real.

  If I could, I’d flip back the past twenty-four hours, to when we were in her childhood home, where I was aiding her grandpa with cooking breakfast while she tried to fend off the stories of her childhood and listening to her bicker with her sister.

  And if I had the chance to flip to the first page in our book, erase meeting her, erase all the pain and good memories that came with it…I don’t know. But I do know I’d erase this heartache and draw us on a carnival or something. I’d be wearing a floppy hat and forcing one on her; she’d fight me for a while but eventually cave.

  We’d drink piña coladas and play freaking shuffleboard like an old married couple. Because at least they already got through all the BS; they live the good, easy, peaceful life—and I want that. I don’t want the pain and hardships. I just want her, goddamn it.

  “Good morning, princess,” Mike greets me as I enter the kitchen.

  I grumble a reply and plop into one of the black stools behind the Corian kitchen island. Although I couldn’t sleep, my eyes are itchy and heavy. I tried to fall under the exhaustion, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw her: her beautiful smile, her twinkling eyes, her wispy gold hair—everything—and it pisses me off, because now I’m exhausted and can barely form a word.

  I feel Ty eyeing me as he walks in. “Hey, buddy.” He claps my shoulder and rounds the island, leaning over to look me in the eyes, forcing on a friendly smile. “How you feelin’ this morning?”

  I move my mouth to reply, but all that comes out is a choked reply. I see Mike glance briefly at me sympathetically as he slowly drops his French toast on a plate. I shift my eyes, red-cheeked, and shrug. “Feel like shit,” I manage to get out.

  “Maybe a party will make things better.” Ty grins at me, ignoring our friend’s death glare.

  “I don’t think a party is the remedy for everything,” Mike grits harshly then softens his gaze on me. He’s always been the warm-hearted guy between the two. “We can do something else to distract you. Go to your place and chill out, maybe?” he suggests.

  Ty scoffs loudly, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “Playing FIFA will not mend our boy’s heart.”

  “And doing shots and possibly regretting something will?” Mike spits, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Ty’s facial expression is incredulous. “That’s the only cure for heartache I know! It’s the motivation of, like, half of all partiers. That and the other half want to get laid, which, you know…also freaking helps.” He holds up his palms to the ceiling and tips them back and forth like he’s a scale. “So, heh—you can either stay home and play video games with some buddies.” He tips the scale way down low. “Or you can drink liquor out of a hot girl’s belly-button.” His imaginary scale tips upward.

  “Okay, if you listen to this dummy, then you two deserve each other,” Mike breathes playfully, and I smile fondly.

  “Shut up, bitch,” Ty snaps then grins at me. “What’ll it be, Noah?”

  I look between my sensible friend, then my apparent scale friend making kissy faces at me. The sensible of the two can’t even hide his smirk. We both love kooky Ty, and as much as he can be a weirdo at times, he also knows when to make situations lighter than they should be. And my situation, in which I found out I have a secret brother, my girlfriend knew and hid it from me, and I punched my father last night, is a messy tangled web of shit. Dark shit, to be exact.

  And, although the rational angel perched on my left shoulder is demanding I think it over, to not bum-rush into things and make things worse by getting drunk at a crazy frat party, I pluck him off with a hand sweep over my shoulder. I thread my fingers through my lofty hair and smile at my friends, each representing the angels on my shoulder, though Mike is the light one on the ground now, but still.

  “I think you already know the answer.” I smirk.

  ***

  By nine p.m., I’m coated in sweat and on my third shot of the night. Mike watches over my shoulder but doesn’t tell me to stop, just warns me. On the other side of me, Ty cheers me on and slaps another glass in front of me. It smashes to pieces, and he giggles, and Mike curses at him and proceeds to clean up the mess. Yeah, these two are definitely the angels on my shoulders.

  They’re both blabbing about pinkies bleeding and I-Told-You-Sos, but I don’t concentrate on them, rather the thoughts and emotions I turned off when I entered the party. At least, I tried to turn them off. Which is easier said than done. Those vampires in that weird, cringey show Red adores can switch off their emotions like a damn light switch—those lucky bastards.

  How I wish I could reach inside of my head and push her out, stop her from controlling every thought to revolve around her. She’s in everything I see, like that red cup on the kitchen table and that blonde girl walking through the crowd and that guy barreling his fist into another guy.

  The fight turns bloody and violent, and as Mike and a few of the guys on the lacrosse team run over to help break it up, I find myself wishing Red was punching that guy.

  I want her here, and that’s not good. She betrayed me once again. I shouldn’t want to be staring into her dreamy eyes or pulling her off a guy because her temper gets the best of her. We’d probably end up fucking in the bathroom like at that party after she beat up Beth.

  Any normal human being with a tolerance of violence wouldn’t have done what I did. They would have broken up with her, not even try to see past her faults…but I did, and I loved every freaking fault I saw past. I saw her.

  “Oh no,” I mutter, desperately twisting off the vodka bottle cap. I down a few good gulps before the burn is too intense and I’m light on my feet. But it should be worth it once it kicks in; I can’t be thinking about her. She deliberately lied to my face. Technically she just didn’t tell me, not lie, but I was still hurt and I still am.

  How did she even know about it? And why not tell me what she found out? Why hold it over my father’s head?

  My head begins to shake and rattle like an explosion went off inside of it, so I step outside for a breath of fresh air. I feel like I just walked into a black box; it’s too dark out for me to make out much, just gyrating bodies and people smoking their poisons. I stumble around, rubbing my face and tip forward, ready to smash into the concrete, when I’m yanked back.

  “Whoa,” the person gasps. “Are you all right? You almost face-planted into the p
ool.”

  “That would have ended bad, huh?” I laugh loudly, highly, pathetically. I feel like Liv when she was heartbroken over Grey reappearing in her life after six months. It’s insane how I called their love diabolical, yet I’m acting just like her, and I get their relationship. I get it so freaking hard. I think I’m crying.

  The person must hear my unease, because I’m handed a cup of what I can only identify as water. I sniff it, and I basically hear their eye roll. “It’s just water. Geez, Noah—as if I’d try to poison you.” The person’s snappy attitude sounds familiar, and I open my eyes to Beth raising a brow at me.

  “Elizabeth.” I smile.

  “Just Beth.” She smiles softly, nodding at the cup. “Now drink up before you topple over like a stack of Legos.”

  My laugh is hearty, low. “Ha. I used to love me some Legos.” Times were so simple then. Everything was light and happy; now I’m floating in an ocean of darkness, just waiting for something to yank me under.

  But I listen to this sweet girl and down the entire thing. Funny, doesn’t taste like water. More like fizzy soda water. What’s that nasty thing called again? Seltzer water? Mouth drool of Satan? I can’t tell the difference.

  “I don’t feel so good,” I admit around my heavy tongue. I think I’m falling over. A building of red and yellow Lego pieces, ready to crash into a billion pieces, ready to kill anyone who dares step on me.

  She catches me and surprises me the entire way to my room. I think I hear her say “she never deserved you” before my back meets the bed and I’m pulled under the lapping waters of the abyss.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  The next morning I’m swimming through water. I am entombed in a black abyss, and I’m cold and can barely move my limbs. For a moment I don’t think I’m going to make it to the surface. A force has me with a death grip with no intention of letting go. I fight and fight toward the bright water above me. When I finally make it to the surface, I gasp for air. I cough and cough, and then the migraine kicks in.

  What…the…hell?

  I don’t even try to piece together what nightmare I quite literally just escaped. I thought I’d never swim out of there. I just sit against the headboard and let my eyes remain shut as I gather my mind and solve the puzzle that is my mind. A moment, then two, then four million pass until I can actually breathe, and I open my eyes and look around skeptically.

  It takes a small, hazy moment to realize I’m sitting on my old bed…in the fraternity I was a part of a few months ago. But I live in a condo in a ritzy neighborhood about twenty minutes from here. How the hell did I get here? I begin to think of crazy theories like kidnap and the Matrix world when I remember flashing lights and red Solo cups. Okay, so I was at a party. I came for a party. And then…I remember absolutely nothing.

  The more and more I wade through the jumbled memories, the deeper the ocean gets, the easier the memories collide and fade in the saltwater. So I pull myself onto a boat and jet the hell out of the freezing waters, head to safety, and lay on the beach like a fish out of water. Lost, confused, and thirsty as hell.

  I push to my feet and nearly collapse. My head weighs a ton and brings me to the wall next to the door. I wonder—what the actual hell did I take last night?—as I stumble down the tall stairs. Getting down them is a struggle itself, and when I finally touch the ground floor, I almost give myself a medal.

  Standing in the middle area of the ground floor is like waking up on Saturdays when I lived here: loud, bright, and relaxed. None of which makes an appearance here, the relaxation part, anyway. It is too loud, too bright, and too muddled in my head to comprehend anything but the struggle it is to even stand.

  When I pad into the kitchen, Mike almost immediately laughs as he says, “Why hello there. Had a good night last night?” as he kicks up his feet on Ty’s lap, who doesn’t even move them.

  Ty looks over his shoulder and chuckles, staring at my legs. “Must have—he forgot to, uh, cover up? Was it that Betty girl or someone new? I really didn’t think you had it in you to move on that fast from Red.” He whistles with a playful shake of his head.

  What are they talking about? And what is he staring at?

  And then I look at my bare legs—I’m only wearing my boxer briefs. And as if I’m not already panicked about messing up big time by screwing someone, images of Beth helping me to my room, kissing my neck, flood my mind. I almost drop to my knees.

  “Oh God,” I choke out, and they stop laughing as they realize what a huge fucking mess I made. I slept with Beth…“Oh God, oh God, oh God…” I repeat it over and over and run my hands through my hair, pacing in circles.

  Holy fucking shit!

  What do I—how did it—fuck! I curse so much, my ears are ringing. And the tears aren’t helping any. How could I have been so fucking stupid to sleep with her? I’m with Red! I don’t care if she declared nuclear war on me or she cheated on me with Barak O-fucking-bama, I shouldn’t have ever slept with someone that wasn’t her!

  “Oh shit!” I cry again, punching the wall; the ancient yellow phone attached to it rattles, and the phone itself smashes to the ground, hanging by its curly string.

  “Whoa, whoa, calm down,” Mike tells me, cautiously walking over to me.

  “I can’t calm down, Mike!” I snap, fisting my hair and closing my eyes. “I cheated on Red.”

  I open my eyes to Ty’s frown. “You didn’t fuck Beth.”

  What? “Huh?” I voice my confusion.

  Mike glances at him, and he shrugs. “Yeah, I mean, you guys went into the room, but you didn’t screw or anything—”

  “You saw me go into the room with her and didn’t stop me?” I scream at him and instantly feel like an asshole. He’s trying to tell me the damn story.

  “Um, yeah. I thought you were seriously over Red—and who was I to stop possible true love—so I didn’t say anything. But when I went in to quickly snag some condoms for myself…” He waggles his eyebrows, and I growl. Flushed, he continues, “She was running out, crying. So either she just wasn’t that into you, or you have a micro-penis. Guess which one I believe.” He breaks into a grin, and I roll my eyes.

  “We weren’t naked or anything?” I question. I have to know every detail, but it physically hurts to search for them. Each dig in that chunk of memories hits me harder than the last.

  His tongue clucks inside his cheek. “Nah…but you weren’t wearing any pants. But you guys wore clothes otherwise.”

  “There you go—no cheating. Now you can calm down,” Mike says, smiling.

  Relief hits me like a freight train, and I breathe out, “Thank God,” as I catch my breath. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I had done anything with Beth. I hate cheaters, even if the person doing the cheating is drunk out of their mind. I don’t remember drinking too much. I mean, sure, I did a few shots and had a few beers, but that wouldn’t knock me on my ass like now.

  “Well, I feel a lot better…actually, I still feel like crap.” I run my fingers through my hair. I’m just confused as to why she’d take me to my room. Are she and Ian not working out or something, so she thought she’d try to sleep with me?

  “Who doesn’t? Have you seen the living room? There are people knocked out on their asses in there, and it is not my turn for cleanup.” Mike raises his hands and Ty groans, murmuring something about getting a broom as he leaves the room. “Oh, hey. Mind giving this to Rachel? She forgot it last night.” He holds out an iPhone in a red case, and I frown as I take it.

  “She came last night?” I didn’t see her. If I had, I would have talked to her and hung out with her. It would have been better than getting so drunk it physically hurts to think.

  “Yeah,” he says, blushing. “Ian came drunk as hell and got into a fight. Some other guys and I had to tear them apart—it was fucking wild—I didn’t know you didn’t see her. She came to get him. I guess he called her and she got worried and came to pick him up.”

  Of course she wou
ld, because she’s a sweetie pie. I make fists at my sides at the mention of Ian. I’m still certain he was one of the assholes who broke in those months ago and put me in the freaking hospital. I’m about to comment on my dislike of the guy when I notice Mike’s blushing pretty hard. Okay…

  “Did something else happen last night?” I ask him, referring to his bright-red cheeks.

  He runs a hand over his head. “Um…maybe…”

  I chuckle and shrug. “Well, don’t make me beat it out of you.”

  “Rachel and I may have, uh…made out last night,” he says, and all the wind knocks right out of me.

  “You two made out! Dude, that’s great!” I tackle him with a hug, and he tries to push me away in annoyance, but he can’t even try to hide his smirk. He’s liked her for a long time; I’m excited and proud they finally did something. I was beginning to think he was a little bitch.

  “Okay, enough of that.” He finally manages to push me off. I laugh. “Get ready.”

  “Why?” I plan on sleeping away the rest of the day.

  “We have school, fool. There are a few days left, so the teachers are saying fuck it, and we’re watching some movie in the theater room.”

  “Wanna just skip?”

  “No. Rachel’s going…” He looks away.

  “Aww—will this be your guys’ first date?” I pinch his cheek, and he slaps my hand away, fuming. I wink at him and hold up my hands defensively. “All right, all right—I’m gonna get dressed.”

  ***

  The theater room is packed with students who haven’t already said “fuck you” and skipped. I would love to be in my bed as this…whatever wears away, but I wanna be here and tease Mike about Rachel. I did on the way here, but he’d just snap and blush, and after a while I decided to save it for when we’re watching the movie. I wonder if he’s gonna try to pull a move? Are they gonna date? So many questions and so many jokes prepared.