It still didn’t solve the question of how someone had recorded the video. My phone was playing music that night, but it definitely wasn’t recording Tate and me.
Shit.
I blinked long and hard.
The balcony.
Could someone have been out there filming us?
Now, my gut was twisted with acid, and I was charged.
That was the first time Tate had taken over, tried something new and gotten on top. She was brave and beautiful, and I was rocked.
To think of someone outside on the balcony the whole time, watching us. Watching her.
Refocusing, I looked at Tate, whose eyebrows were arched in. Scared.
But she’s not a runner anymore.
“I see that look in your eye.” I inched closer and spoke quietly. “It’s the look you get when you want to bolt. The look you get right before you decide to stay and fight.”
“What am I fighting for?” she said, her voice cracking.
Us, dammit!
“We did nothing wrong, Tate.”
Her eyes were red from crying, but I knew she wasn’t running away. Her breathing evened out, and her lips settled in a resolved line.
“Let’s go.” She turned and walked to her truck, swinging open the door.
Thank God. I let out a long breath.
Maybe we wouldn’t find my phone. Maybe I wouldn’t be proved innocent in her eyes. Maybe taking her back to school, with all of those eyes, was a huge-ass mistake.
But she was fighting for us again, and that had me so happy I’d dance in public anytime she asked.
“Is…um…is your car safe to drive?” She gestured to the Boss parked behind her truck.
Baby, I don’t even care. I shook my head.
“Don’t sweat it. It gives me an excuse to do more upgrades.”
Her eyes pooled, but she blinked the tears away and took a deep breath.
“Stop at your mom’s firm and pick up her phone,” she instructed, as we’d need my mom’s phone to find mine. “I’ll meet you at school.”
Once I grabbed my mother’s phone and hurried away from her questions, I sped off to school to find Tate in the parking lot waiting for me.
“Are you okay?” I asked, taking her hand, but she immediately yanked it away.
My heart dropped into my stomach.
“Tate.”
She wouldn’t look at me. Her eyes were turned away, looking at the school.
“Don’t ask me if I’m okay.” Her voice was raspy as if she were holding back tears. “I don’t think I’m going to have any idea how to answer that for a while.”
She ran a hand through her long, blonde hair and took a deep breath before walking towards the school.
God, I hope this works.
The more time that passed, the further away from me she got, and whether or not I was guilty, this might be the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Tate had had enough.
She was walking the line between fighting back and shutting down.
Coming up beside her, I stayed close but didn’t touch her.
Everyone was still in class but not for long. The bell would ring soon, and we’d be like animals in a cage at the zoo.
Eyes all around and nowhere to turn.
I followed the tracker on my mom’s phone, still amazed that I wasn’t pissed off that she tracked me.
After so long feeling like I was on my own, it actually felt comforting to have someone worry about me.
The light flashed, showing my phone’s general location, but it wasn’t specific.
There had to be a quicker way to do this.
My hands were shaky, and I wanted to get the fuck out of here before the bell rang.
“Is it still flashing?” Tate asked, looking over at the phone in my hand.
“Yeah.” I looked around, waiting for someone to see us. “I can’t believe my phone is still on after two days. GPSs use a lot of battery.”
“Well, the video was sent this morning,” she pointed out. “If what you say is true, then whoever used your phone has probably charged it since Saturday night.”
So far away.
“If what I say is true…” I repeated her words, hating how quickly shit changes. This morning I was all over her, and now it was like she wanted me far away.
“Look,” she spoke up, killing the silence between us. “This tracker’s only accurate within fifty meters. So—”
“So start dialing my phone,” I interrupted. “Maybe we’ll hear it.”
Fifty meters covered a lot of area. The phone was here, but we’d need help finding out where exactly.
She dug her phone out of her back pocket and called my cell. We walked the tiled floors in silence, listening for any rings or vibrations from the lockers.
Even though she had the phone to her ear, I could still hear my voicemail pick up. Every time it did, she hung up and redialed as we continued to walk.
“Let’s split up,” she finally suggested after the fifth call. “I’ll keep dialing. Just listen for a sound. I think it’s in a locker.”
“Why?” I asked, stopping to look at her. “Someone could have it on them, too.”
“With me calling every ten seconds? No.” She shook her head. “They would’ve turned off the phone, in which case it would’ve gone straight to voicemail. It’s on, and it’s in a locker.”
Split up?
I rubbed my jaw, not liking this idea one fucking bit.
But we didn’t have long.
“Fine,” I bit out. “But if you find it, call my mom’s phone immediately. I don’t want you in the halls alone, not today.”
She stood there, studying me, like she wasn’t sure if any of this was worth her time. She was probably thinking that I did send the video, and I was just playing with her now.
Spinning around, she left and darted up the stairs to the next floor.
I continued searching the first floor, my fists clenching and unclenching inside of the front pocket of my hoodie as I listened for any sound of my phone.
I didn’t wear a watch, usually using my phone to tell the time, but I knew we were close.
The bell was going to ring, and we needed to just give this up and get the hell out of here.
This morning I’d felt her kisses, her hands, and her happiness. But now I only felt her doubt. It sat between us like a ten ton elephant.
The phone in my hand buzzed, and I jerked it up so fast I almost dropped it.
2nd floor, next to Kuhl’s room!! Tate texted.
Shit.
I fucking bolted up the nearest flight of stairs to the next floor and nearly tripped on the steps when the final bell screamed.
Dread slammed my stomach down to my feet, and I only hesitated a moment before I charged ahead through the doors and onto the second floor.
Students flooded the hall, all trying to get to their lockers or downstairs to leave.
Most of them did a second-take at seeing me, but I just turned left and pushed through the crowd as fast as I could.
People coming my way slowed down, while others stopped to whisper to their friends. There’s was no telling what was going through their heads, and my fists balled up in aggravation. Not only was I angry about what had happened, but I was completely fucking pissed that I now had to clean up a mess I didn’t make.
I finally found Tate next to a set of lockers towards the end of the hall, and she definitely had onlookers.
Her body was rigid, but she stood tall and didn’t hide from their stares. She looked at me, and I fucking melted when I saw her guard with me was back down.
“Are you alright?” I asked, taking her face in my hands.
“Yes.” Her tone told me everything. She believed me. “The phone is here, in 1622,” she said softly, and I tensed. “I don’t know whose locker it is, though.”
I do.
I looked behind her, my eyes hardening on the locker.
Piper.
M
y jaw was glued together, and oxygen poured in like fuel.
I didn’t hit women, but I’d damn well let Tate hit her.
“Back so soon?” a female voice snipped behind me. “Is your porn career a failure already?”
Tate’s body shifted under my hands, and I placed a light kiss on her forehead before I turned around to face the bitch.
I tried to keep Tate behind me, but she yanked me back and quickly stepped in front.
Oh, Jesus. I rubbed my forehead and tried not to smile.
Nothing was funny here, but Tate continued to surprise me.
“Actually, we’re just waiting for you,” she said with mock happiness. “You know that video that came from Jared’s phone this morning? The one that everyone saw? He didn’t send it. His phone was stolen Saturday night. Would you know where it is?” Tate asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
The hall had gotten quiet, and everyone stood like they were on the outside of a boxing ring peering in.
“Why would I know where his phone is?” Piper sneered.
Tate held up her cell. “Oh, because….” She hit “redial”, and everyone heard my ringtone for Tate— Limp Bizkit’s Behind Blue Eyes—coming from Piper’s locker.
It was the ringer I’d put after she’d left for France—like she’d ever call—and I never changed it.
Tate flashed her screen to everyone, so they could see that it was my name on the screen of who she was dialing.
“This is your locker, Piper,” I pointed out, so everyone would know.
Tate was humiliated. The damage was done.
But it wasn’t a choice. Everyone had to know that I wasn’t responsible for hurting her like that. Not ever again.
“You know, I just love that song,” Tate teased. “Let’s hear it again.” She redialed, and people stood around, some waiting for a fight, while others whispered or nodded.
Walking up, I bent down into her face. “Open up your locker and give me my goddamn phone back, or we’ll get the Dean, and he’ll open the locker.”
Her lips pursed. “It was Nate’s idea!” She cracked and started defending herself.
The onlookers started laughing.
“You stupid bitch!” I heard Nate bark from somewhere in the crowd. “It was your idea.”
And I straightened my shoulders when he stepped forward.
Some people were born stupid.
I cocked my fist back and punched him across the nose, sending him down like a dead deer. He dropped to the floor, holding his bloody nose, and I hovered, ready for his ass to pop back up again.
Madoc pushed through the crowd, his eyeballs damn-near popping out of his head as he surveyed Nate on the floor.
“Are you okay?” he asked, turning his eyes on Tate.
I didn’t hear or see her respond, but Madoc shook his head and looked back down to Nate.
“How did you do it?” Tate asked Piper.
She didn’t respond.
“Your dad’s a cop, right?” Tate asked. “What’s his number?” She held up her phone like she was ready to dial. “Oh, yeah, 911.”
“Ugh, alright!” Piper screeched. “Nate took me to Homecoming and then to Tori’s party afterwards. When we saw you and Jared head upstairs, Nate took his camera phone and climbed onto the balcony. When he showed me the video later, I saw that Jared had left his phone on the dresser, so I snuck back into the room to take it.”
Son of a bitch.
“So the video came from Nate’s phone,” Tate confirmed but was looking at me. “It was transferred to Jared’s before it was texted.”
Our eyes were locked, and a mountain of relief descended on my shoulders.
“Get Jared’s phone, Piper. Now,” Madoc ordered, and I looked down at Nate who was trying to get up.
Once our eyes met, though, he seemed to reconsider when he laid back down.
Piper took a grueling minute to retrieve the phone, and then she threw it at Tate.
“We’re done,” she said cattily and waved her hand, dismissing Tate. “You may go.”
I had a hundred fucking names I wanted to call her, but it would be a waste of time. I was going to take care of this. Piper and Nate weren’t getting away with shit.
Just get Tate out of here.
But, of course, Tate had other plans.
“Piper?” she spoke calmly. “Do yourself a favor, and get some help. Jared is not yours, and he never will be. In fact, he won’t ever look at you again and see anything good, if he even saw anything good in the first place.”
Tate turned to me, but all of a sudden, Piper was yanking her by the hair!
And I stood there like a damn moron, not knowing which one to grab, because they were moving too fucking quickly.
Tate was slammed against the lockers. Piper tried to punch her. Tate ducked, and then smacked Piper across the face. Twice.
Shit.
I caught sight of Madoc waving at me.
“Porter!” he whisper-yelled, urgency etched on his face as I hurriedly grabbed my girl and whispered in her ear.
“Shhh.” I tried to control her, but she was struggling.
Dr. Porter was working his way through the crowd. “What’s going on here?” he growled as he came to the front.
Tate immediately relaxed into my body. I released my hold, and she stood there silently, looking down, while Porter glanced between the whining lump of Piper on the floor and the bleeding heap of Nate next to her.
“Dr. Porter,” Madoc spoke up. “Nate and Piper bumped into each other.”
Sweat poured down my back, and I didn’t know if I wanted to hug Tate, smack Madoc, or…smack Madoc.
“Mr. Caruthers, I’m not stupid.” Dr. Porter looked to the crowd. “Now what happened here?”
I tipped my foot up and put pressure down on Nate’s arm as a warning to keep his mouth shut. He struggled, but I just pressed harder.
I doubted he’d say anything anyway. He didn’t want us going to the cops with this.
I would if Tate wanted to, but I’d rather handle it on my own.
“I didn’t see anything, sir,” my friend, Gunnar, offered.
“Me either, Dr. Porter,” another student followed his example. “Probably just an accident.”
Everyone else in the crowd figured out the game plan and followed suit.
Porter didn’t get anything from anyone, and no one got in trouble.
Tate was safe, and I would be taking her home without any complications.
Rubbing his beard, Dr. Porter looked to Nate and Piper. “Alright, you two. Get up, and come to the nurse. Everyone else. Head home!” he barked.
Nate and Piper stomped down the hall after Porter, although Nate was a little wobbly. The rest of the students departed slowly and quietly. No one laughed behind their hands. No one gave Tate a look.
They knew that the video wasn’t my doing, and if I wasn’t on board with it, they shouldn’t be, either.
People being afraid of you can be useful.
Wrapping my arms around Tate’s neck, I brought her into me where she was safe.
Not that she needed saving.
“I’m so sorry about not trusting you.” Her muffled voice vibrated against my chest. “And about what I did to your car, too.”
I couldn’t care less about the fucking car.
“Tate, you’re mine, and I’m yours. Every day you’re going to realize that more and more. When you believe it without a doubt, then I’ll have earned your trust.”
I knew I didn’t have it yet. Today was the result of the damage I’d done.
“I am yours. I just wasn’t sure if you were really mine,” she said quietly.
“Then I’ll make you sure.” I kissed the top of her head, and the image of Piper grabbing her by the hair flashed through my head.
I tried holding in my amusement at how Tate hauled off and brought her down.
“You’re laughing right now?” She pulled back and looked at me, half-angry and half-confused.
Yeah, I definitely shouldn’t be laughing right now.
“Well, I was kind of worried about my anger issues, but now I’m kind of worried about yours. You like to hit people.” I couldn’t hold back the huge grin on my face.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not angry. She got what she deserved, and I was attacked first.”
I picked Tate up, guiding her legs around my waist and carried her down the hall, unable to not touch her anymore.
I was so afraid I’d never get to again.
“It’s your fault, you know?” she said against my ear.
“What?” I asked.
“You made me mean. And now I pummel poor, defenseless girls…and guys,” she added, and I wanted to laugh again, thinking of the damage she’d done to Madoc.
“You might say that I turned metal into steel.”
She kissed the ridge of my ear, and a shudder rocked through my body.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, you big bully,” she teased.
And I gripped her tighter, hoping I could, someday, right all the wrongs.
Over the next week, we worked hard to take down the video or report it to the host site.
Tate handled it with a straight face until she read the comments on the video on one of the sites. Some were cruel. Some were twisted. All of them were sordid.
She was ready to torch the entire internet, so I ended up just telling her to leave it, and I’d handle the rest of it myself. Actually, I passed the task to Jax. He knew his way around that shit better than I did. And he’d be faster at it.
Piper’s parents found out about the video and her involvement. They took her out of school for the rest of the year. She’d be home-schooled until she graduated.
Nate was another matter. He’d been MIA since the shit went down in the hallway last week, so I put him on the back burner for now.
But he’d show up eventually, and I wasn’t anywhere near over it.
Tate’s dad, on the other hand, was the hardest part to deal with. He supported our new relationship, but we had to “slow the hell down.”
He and I took Tate to Chicago last weekend to buy the R8 she’d been eyeing online. He wasn’t thrilled with spending that much money on a car for her, but he wanted to see her smile. Keep busy. Focus on another project.
Some people might consider his therapeutic tactics hiding, but it wasn’t. The Nova project he invented for me last year was a way for me to not think constantly. I could get space, distance, and perspective.
Until You Page 27
