by Rebel Hart
“No, you know what I mean.” I moan with exhaustion. “Everything in Jameson is so…heavy.”
“Maybe I should have picked a suspense thriller,” he quips. “I know you said you’ve had enough, but you might be able to relate to it more.”
“Do you ever get tired of it all?” I ask him.
“I told you.” He keeps his eyes glued straight ahead, his tone growing cold and apathetic. “I stay out of all of it. Anyway, if the Jamesons weren’t the ones in charge…things might not have been this way.”
“What do you mean?” I shoot back, sensing a new hint of jealousy.
“Nothing,” he states, not looking open to saying anything else about it.
“I can’t thank you enough for being here for me, Malcolm,” I offer. “Things with Emmett are always so fucked up, and with Lily deciding she hates me…I’ve felt so alone. It’s really meant a lot to have you around as a friend.”
I emphasize the word friend, feeling suddenly self-conscious about how this looks. I haven’t been trying to run crying to Malcolm’s shoulder every time something goes wrong with Emmett, but somehow he always seems to be conveniently planted in my path whenever the need arises.
“Well, I have to admit…I am being a little selfish in all of this,” he answers coyly, leaning back on the couch and spreading one arm out across the back in my direction. If I were sitting close to him, his arm would be along the back of my seat. But I made sure to keep a few feet between us when I sat down.
“What do you mean?” I ask, wringing my hands together in my lap.
“You’re fucking gorgeous, Ophelia,” he blurts out. “And a hell of a runner. You’re smart and funny—I’m not just hanging around you out of pity.”
“That’s sweet. Thank you.” I say sincerely, feeling my cheeks grow flushed. But my heart doesn’t swell with his words in the way that I wish it would. I take it the same way you’d take a compliment from anyone. Nothing like how I would feel if Emmett was sitting here, saying those things to me right now.
“I know that from what you’ve seen…my relationship with Emmett must seem like pure masochism,” I explain, clinging to my need to defend him. “And maybe it is. I don’t know.” My hands swipe across my tired face. “But I can’t let him go. Not yet.”
“But you deserve so much better,” he argues, no longer watching the screen. His eyes are glued to me, but I keep staring intently straight ahead. “And where is he right now while you’re upset? He’s with Vivian.”
I feel a knife in my heart. I know he’s right. “She may be playing him…I know that, and you know that. But Emmett’s just feeling lost and trying to do the right thing to protect his family,” I say with as much conviction as I can, but a waver of doubt creeps through my voice. “He does love me,” I add confidently.
“Well, he has a real fucked up way of showing it,” he grumbles, turning his head back towards the TV.
“I just can’t wait for all of this to be over,” I groan, folding over myself in exhaustion, realizing it was probably ridiculous to think I could just sit and watch a movie at a time like this.
Suddenly, I feel his hand on my back. “You know…there are other things I could do to take your mind off things until then,” he says suggestively.
I know what is about to happen. I had hoped Malcolm would let me keep things friendly and platonic, but deep down I knew this was coming. This is the moment of truth. His pale blue eyes look to me expectantly, and I have a decision to make. Will I let myself believe that Emmett and Vivian are fooling around right now and use it to justify something happening between Malcolm and me? I don’t want Malcolm in the way I want Emmett, but if I can’t have Emmett, then being with Malcolm would be something to dull the pain. But I can’t bring myself to let it happen. Maybe if things were officially over with Emmett, it’d be a good consolation prize. But I can’t do anything until I know for sure. If Emmett is still mine, I’m not going to risk jeopardizing that out of spite when I’m not even sure if it’s justified.
I turn in confusion and glare at his hand, smoothing over the back of my sweater. “Malcolm…” I trail off in a warning tone, looking at him with disapproval.
“I could make you feel good, Ophelia,” he replies deeply, not shying away from my glare. “You may even forget about him by the time I’m through.”
I inch several more feet away to the opposite end of the couch. “I can’t do that to Emmett,” I contend. “Let’s just watch the movie.” My arms cross and I glue my eyes back to the TV, hoping he’ll just drop it and let us sit here in awkward silence. My phone rests beside me on the arm of the couch, and I am on high alert for any sound vibrating through it. Just please let Emmett text me soon, I think to myself over and over.
“You honestly don’t realize he’s fucking Vivian right now?” Malcolm says suddenly.
“What?” I start. “Don’t say that. He’s not.” A lump forms in my throat, and I hate him for putting it so bluntly. I know he’s not. He can’t be.
“You’re delusional,” he scoffs. “It’s so obvious that’s what he’s doing.”
“Okay, well, this definitely isn’t helping.” My voice grows shrill as I squirm against the couch cushion.
He moves closer, erasing the gap between our bodies. “Stop fighting for him when he’s not fighting for you,” he says sternly, staring straight through me.
Before I can muster up another defense, his hand is snaking across me to reach for my cheek. His fingers push into the side of my face, trying to turn it towards his.
“Malcolm, stop!” I snap, pushing his arm away. “I can’t tell you what’s going to happen between Emmett and me, but I’m not going to cheat on him. Even if I’m wrong and it turns out that’s what he’s doing…I can’t stoop to that level.”
“I know you feel something for me, too,” he insists, not moving away.
“You’re a great guy,” I offer pityingly, as his hands keep grabbing. “But no…I can’t, Malcolm…Stop it!”
“Come on, just let go…Give in…” he persists, trying to grab everything that he can in order to coax me closer to him.
“No, Malcolm!” I yell louder. “Stop it! I mean it!”
His whole body moves forward, positioning himself over me as I try to turn away. I quickly go into panic mode, realizing he’s not going to back down with my refusal. He continues trying to grab at me, moving his face closer to mine as he tries to force me into a kiss. I keep telling him no, but nothing stops him. I struggle, trying to put all of my weight and strength into breaking free. I’m a fighter, and will keep fighting until my last breath before I let Malcolm have his way with me. I roll my body over, putting him directly on top of me, and instantly jut my foot out with force, nailing right between his legs.
His dull eyes widen just as my foot comes up and rams in between his legs, sending him recoiling and crashing off of me in hissing pain. He falls backwards, wincing as he grabs at his balls. “You fucking bitch!” he shrieks.
He recovers quickly, and I barely have enough time to jump up and grab my things before he lunges towards me. I race for the door, but he catches up behind me and tries to pin me against the glass pane. I ram my elbow back into his ribcage, buying myself just enough time to get the door open and run off into the darkness.
My feet pound along the cobbled sidewalk alongside the main house. My breathing sharp and frantic, I try not to run into anything as I look back over my shoulder, making sure he isn’t following me. Now safe from Malcolm’s attack, I want to run straight into Emmett’s arms. I want it to be that simple. To know that he will take me in and hold me as the man who loves me should. But what I am fleeing from puts a shadow over the protection I need from him. I shouldn’t have gone with Malcolm. And what has happened with Vivian since I’ve been gone? Did she get what she wanted? Was she able to seduce him while they consoled each other?
I don’t stop running until I am at least a mile from Malcolm’s house. Hot tears burn down my cheek as I heave
, feeling so stupid for coming out with him. I should have just gone home. As awful as it seemed at the time, it would have been better than this.
I zip my hoodie up tighter so that it covers as much of my face as it can. I barely want to see. I want to hide in here, in the warmth, and use it as a barrier between me and this fucked up town. My tears sting in the cold night air, but I can’t stop them. It hurts too much. They flow out seamlessly.
I don’t even have a plan for what I’m doing, I just know I need to go, get as far away from him as I can. I know Emmett said he didn’t trust Malcolm, but I never expected this. He seemed so kind and gentle. I have to fight against the tug in my heart that tells me this means I can’t trust anyone. Even the good guys end up turning bad in the end.
All at once, I know I need to run back to Emmett. That’s where I belong right now and I probably should have never left. Fuck Vivian. She can cry and play damsel in distress all she wants. I can’t let it come between us. I probably played into her trap perfectly by leaving them alone like that while Emmett was mad at me. I gave her the perfect opening.
As I run with a fury back to Emmett’s, I tell myself she won’t be there by the time I get back. She told Emmett what she needed to and then he made her leave. That has to be what happened. For my own sanity, I need that to be true.
Emmett will be pissed that I was even with Malcolm in the first place, but I am prepared to admit how wrong I was. I should have listened to him, and now I’ve paid the price. I keep looking back to see if Malcolm is chasing after me, but the neighborhood streets are quiet and empty. I cringe at every black car that passes, worried it might be him.
I make it to the manor, but my stomach flips as I get past the gate and see that Vivian’s car is still parked right out front. I almost hesitate at the front door, but I push through. I need to be in Emmett’s arms right now and feel safe again.
One of the staff members lets me in, and thankfully Emmett and Vivian are still right in the sitting room where I left them. Emmett is standing near a corner, facing the wall while she sits on the couch. I’m happy to see the distance between them as I rush in.
“Emmett! I have to talk to you!” I shout through my labored breaths. “Now.”
But I can instantly tell I’ve walked into the middle of something. Vivian’s lips snarl at me in a satisfied grin, and Emmett doesn’t budge. He just stands there with his back turned towards me, looking off into the corner.
“Didn’t you hear me?” I try again in confusion. “I have to talk to you.”
Vivian holds back a snickering laugh, not saying a word. I march right up to Emmett and tug at his arm. Suddenly, he flips around, almost knocking me over as he flings my hands off of him. His eyes are bloodshot and glassy. The look of rage in his eyes surpasses anything I have ever seen in him before. The intensity of it sends me stumbling backwards, bumping into an end table.
I don’t know what happened while I was gone, but judging by the way Emmett’s looking at me, all of his sudden anger is channeled towards me. I wonder if maybe it’s because he saw me leave with Malcolm, but the longer I stare back at him, I know this is about something much bigger than that.
Chapter Eighteen
BOOK 2
I am cornered against the table lining the back of the couch where Vivian sits, with Emmett glaring at me in fury, having no clue what exactly I’ve just walked into.
“You’ve got some nerve showing back up here,” Vivian sneers from behind me.
“What is she talking about?” I ask him, refusing to acknowledge her directly. “Emmett, please. Tell her to go or take me to your room. I need to talk to you.”
“To tell him what?” She stands up from the couch and huffs over. “That you’ve been fucking Malcolm?”
My lips part to tell her how wrong she is, but before I can get out a single word, Emmett flies across the room suddenly and swoops his arms across the fireplace mantle, sending a flurry of vases and frames crashing to the ground with the loud, startling sounds of breaking glass. I flinch and push further against the tabletop, practically sitting on top of it.
“What!?” I cry. “No! I would never…”
“Check your phone, Ophelia,” Vivian tells me, with a tired and irritated voice. “The whole school knows now. It was sent to everyone.”
I want to argue back, but I’m too confused—and afraid of Emmett’s unexplained seething rage. I fumble for my phone in my bag and look to see the notification for a text from an unknown number. I open it to see a photo has been sent to me and every other student at WJ Prep. I remember Lily telling me about the app—one that Malcolm helped design, no doubt. It served as the Elites’ blacklist and had the ability to text every single person in the school, letting them know if someone had fucked up and was expected to be treated like shit now. But it hasn’t been used since the Elites were taken out. Until now.
The file takes impossibly long to load, but my heart sinks in horror as it finally pops up on the screen. It’s a photo of Malcolm and I on his couch, but it is nothing like what actually happened. I am topless, with one of his hands cupping my bare breasts. Our mouths are locked together, and the rest of our bodies are out of view, but imagination fills in the blanks. We are obviously having sex. I try to blink the image away, but it stares back at me boldly.
“No…No, no, no. This isn’t what it looks like,” I stammer, shaking my head cluelessly.
I fly into a panic. How the hell could this have happened? Even if it were a photo of me from back at his place before I came here, I was definitely never topless and definitely never kissing him back. The position could be slightly similar to that of me warding off his advances, but everything else about it is wrong. I feel a crack in my mind as I race to piece it together.
“Emmett, that’s what I was coming to you for.” I fly to him across the room. “I was with Malcolm and…”
“Obviously you were with him!” Vivian smirks. “We can all see that, Ophelia.”
“Not like that!” I shout, my voice cracking into fearful tears. “We were just hanging out and then…”
“Don’t listen to her shit, Emmett.” She cuts me off, walking over and putting her hands over his arms in comfort. “You don’t need this right now.” Her eyes cut back over to me with an accusing stare. I’m the outsider now. I’m the one who has betrayed him.
“Fuck off, Vivian!” I snap. “Did you do this!? Are you the one who made this photo and sent it to everyone!?”
“She was with me the whole time,” Emmett says coldly, refusing to look me in the eyes.
“Now who’s just making desperate attempts for Emmett’s attention?” she taunts. “Pathetic. You’re so jealous and insecure…you have to run off and fuck some other guy while your boyfriend is sitting over here worried sick about his family.”
“Will you please just stay out of this?” I beg. “I don’t even know why you’re still here!”
“Because I care about him. In ways you obviously don’t.” She rolls her eyes like a dutiful person sweeping in to clean up my mess.
I want to slap her, but it wouldn’t help anything right now. I look back to the photo again, wishing I knew how to explain it and realizing nothing may help right now.
“Emmett, you have to believe me…that message…” I shove Vivian out of the way and try to force myself into his line of sight.
“I can’t look at you right now,” he seethes, pushing me away.
“Emmett, please!” I plead, grabbing for his arms and face, trying everything I can to pull him back to me.
With a vicious roar, he growls and firmly grips my shoulders before hurtling me off of him down to the ground. I fall back and land on my ass with wide, stunned eyes. I try to get up quickly enough to try again, but he is already storming out of the room and up the stairs.
“You better go,” Vivian commands before running after him.
I am frozen, unable to move. I hear more crashes coming from Emmett’s room, and I hate myself for unlea
shing this side of him in such force. I feel so guilty, I have to keep reminding myself that I didn’t do anything. Nothing happened with Malcolm, and I know that. But how can I argue with what is staring me right in the face?
I imagine being sent that image but of Emmett and Vivian together, and I think I might throw up. It’s hopeless. There’s nothing I can do to convince Emmett the photo isn’t real, and I am beyond certain of it because I don’t think he would be able to convince me if the tables were turned.
I hear the echoes of Vivian knocking on his door, trying to coax him to let her in. His voice shouts back indistinctly, but I can’t make it out. All I know is he’s not letting her in, which gives me some small comfort. I am still right on the ground where Emmett left me by the time she comes running down the stairs and out the front door. I let out a heavy exhale as I hear her car starting and peeling away.
Finally, I reach for the edge of the couch and use it to pull myself up. I half expect one of the housekeepers to stop me as I round the corner of the stairs. I feel like an enemy in this house now. No matter how innocent I know I am, I also know how guilty I look.
From memory, I find Emmett’s door and knock gently. It’s quiet inside now, and I don’t know if that’s better or worse. “Emmett?” I call out gingerly. “Will you please talk to me?” There’s no response. I flatten my palm against the door and wait, but after a few minutes I accept that nothing I can say will fix this. I need more than words. I need proof, and there’s only one other person who can give me that.
I force my breathing to become slow and intentional, trying to control each and every exhale so I don’t feel like I’m hyperventilating. I slowly slide down the wall until I am seated safely on the floor. I don’t know how long I sit there. It’s so hard to walk away, knowing that Emmett may never speak to me again. He has to come out eventually, and part of me wants to wait here until that happens. But seeing him is no guarantee that he’ll believe me.
