by Nicole Fox
What does that make me? Finn laid himself in front of me, explaining exactly who he was, and I still wanted him so fucking bad. I still threw the door wide open and invited him in. Into my body. Into my world. Into my heart.
“What about Cora?” Dr. Sharon asks, looking back on her notes from our last session. “She was a friend you made on your first day, right? How is she?”
Horrid. Vile. A demon sent straight from the pits of hell.
“Fine.”
Sharon’s mouth quirks to one side. That’s a dead giveaway that she has talked to my mom. Usually, my mom stays out of my therapy, except when there is a problem. And me getting three demerits in one day and detention could definitely be classified as a problem.
I sigh. “Okay, maybe not fine.”
“What happened?”
Dr. Sharon isn’t a school administrator. She isn’t my mom or someone who is going to punish me. Her only job is to talk to me and help me make sense of what’s going on inside my head and in the world around me, so I don’t need to defend myself.
At school, I tried to explain to everyone that I didn’t do anything I got in trouble for.
Fat lot of good that did. Now, I’m not even going to try.
My mom obviously told Sharon what happened, so she already knows, and whether she thinks I’m guilty or not doesn’t matter to me. I have bigger problems to deal with.
“Cora is a bully. She has been singling me out.”
“I thought you were friends?” she asks, writing something down in her notebook.
“I thought so, too, but that was part of the trick,” I explain. “She pretended to be my friend so she could betray me later.”
A wrinkle appears on Dr. Sharon’s forehead, concern etched into the lines of her face. “That seems especially mean.”
I almost want to laugh. If she thinks that’s bad, I can’t tell her a thing about Finn. She’d never believe me.
“Yeah, well, Cora is especially mean.”
She frowns and folds her hands on her knee. “How do you feel about her targeting you?”
Naming my emotions is something Sharon and I have been working on for years. After Dad died, I couldn’t discern anger from sadness. I’d see other kids with their dads at the mall or the park and get jealous, and then I’d lash out at Mom. It wasn’t fair, but I didn’t know any other way. But Dr. Sharon helped me name my emotions, which made them easier to control.
Still, it isn’t always so simple.
“Angry, sad, alone.” I shrug and shake my head. “It makes me feel out of control.”
“Okay. So, let’s focus on what you can control.”
I run my fingers over the seam of my jeans. “Which is?”
“Yourself.” Dr. Sharon leans forward, her eyes wide and filled with meaning. “You can’t control what someone else is going to do or say, but you can always control your own response. That is how you keep control.”
It sounds so rational when she says it. So possible.
Of course, I’ll just control myself. Why didn’t I think of that?
Maybe because, like everything else, it isn’t always that simple. Sometimes, as much as you want to, you can’t control yourself. Finn has shown me that.
I want to hate him. I want to ignore him and pretend he doesn’t exist.
But I can’t.
My body pulls me towards him again and again. He lashes out at me, cutting deep, and rather than learn from my mistakes and stay away, I seek him out.
I meet him at the football fields.
I reach for his hand and pull him up to his room.
I do things that would probably make my therapist classify me as certifiably insane.
When Finn is around, there is control. But unfortunately, none of it belongs to me.
The session ends not long after that. I say bye to Dr. Sharon, grab my backpack, and head out the door.
My mom’s rusted-out car usually idles in the parking space to the right of the front door during my appointments. She carries word puzzles and chips in her purse to keep busy while she waits.
But when I walk out into the late afternoon Texas heat, the parking space is empty.
Odd. Maybe she got caught up running an errand.
I lean back against the building to wait.
But just as I get comfortable, another car pulls up. This one is black, shiny… and all too familiar.
26
Lily
My stomach turns when Finn rolls down the window.
He rests his elbow on the door, arm straight out. When his fingers curl for me to get in, he isn’t even looking in my direction. His vivid blue eyes are shielded behind dark-tinted glasses.
If I had any self-control, I’d ignore Finn entirely.
Or, better yet, I’d turn and walk back into the lobby and wait for my mom there.
Instead, I walk to the curb.
“What are you doing here?”
“Giving you a ride.” He tips his head towards the passenger seat, silently asking me to get in. Though, I have a feeling it is less of a question and more of a demand.
“My mom will be here soon.”
He tilts his chin down, his eyes finally landing on me from over top of his sunglasses. He is every teen heartthrob in history wrapped into one. Finn is mysterious, viciously handsome, and, most dangerous of all, focused on me. My heart catapults in my chest just being close to him.
“You sure about that?”
I frown and open my mouth to answer, but Finn cuts me off.
“Check your phone.”
My phone has been on silent since my appointment, and when I pull it out, I see a missed text message from my mom.
Last-minute meeting. One of your friends from school said he’d come get you.
Finn looks up at me and grins viciously. “She called me a perfect gentleman,” he says. “I don’t think she knew what I had in mind for us this afternoon, though.”
Shit. I don’t know how he arranged this and to be honest, I don’t want to know. It’s just more of the same, anyways: Finn Foster pulling the strings at Ravenlake Prep like he has since the day I arrived.
I haven’t seen him since I left his house, but the rumble in his voice is familiar to me. It’s like a siren song. Warmth pools low in my belly, and I step off the curb, drawn to him despite the warning bells chiming in my head.
When I get in, he peels out of the parking lot before I can even get my seat belt on.
“Did you talk about me today?” he asks. “I bet your therapist would have a conniption if she got a peek into my mind.”
“No.”
He turns his head slightly, studying me from the corner of his eye. “You think what’s going on up here is normal?”
I shake my head. “I meant, no, I didn’t talk about you today.”
The truth is, I thought about him the entire time, but that isn’t the question he asked.
If he is disappointed, he doesn’t show it. I wish I could hide my emotions as easily as Finn can. It would certainly make my life a whole hell of a lot easier.
“So, you met my mom?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Briefly,” he says. “She is in a meeting right now. About you.”
I stiffen instantly.
“Relax,” Finn says, breaking into my thoughts. “I put in a good word for you. Principal Cooprider is there. They’re discussing what should be done about the graffiti you painted in the locker room.”
“But I already took care of that.”
Finn’s lips press together, the hollows of his cheeks growing more pronounced. “Apparently, Cora’s parents want more to be done as punishment. There was talk of expulsion.”
“What?!”
It feels like the wind has been knocked out of me. I should be thrilled. I hate everything about Ravenlake Prep.
But it’s my mom’s workplace. It’s the reason she is going to be able to get a semi-decent apartment soon. That job is the reason I’ll be able to leave Ravenl
ake at the end of this year and not look back, knowing she will be okay.
But she won’t be okay if I fuck it all up.
“Relax,” Finn says again, irritation obvious in his voice. “If you were any other student, your parents would make a donation to the library or the arts and all would be forgiven, but since your mom can’t do that, she’s working it out with the administration.”
“But she doesn’t have anything to bargain with.”
“But I do.” Finn is smiling, one eyebrow raised over his glasses. “My family practically built this school. I have a lot of pull around here.”
“Why would—” I shake my head, trying to understand what Finn is telling me, not paying any attention to where he is driving.
Suddenly, the car pulls to a stop, and I look up and see that we are at the back of a large park a few blocks from Dr. Sharon’s office. I’ve come here for a run a few times after my appointments.
But Finn isn’t stopping anywhere near the trail. He’s on the far edge of the park, his car pulled close to the trees that shade the lot from the afternoon sun.
It’s dark in the car. He plucks his sunglasses off his face in one smooth motion and leans back against the headrest.
“He isn’t doing it from the goodness of his heart, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Finn says, breaking the silence. “If he’s helping you, it’s because it’s helping him out more. We Fosters are very selfish.”
“That’s not how I remember it.”
Finn looks up at me and a shared memory moves between us. Our bodies intertwined, connected in ways that feel far too intimate for the tension between us now.
He wasn’t selfish then. Not at all.
My cheeks warm with embarrassment the longer he stares at me, but I want to be bold. If I’ve learned anything being around Finn, it’s that he favors decisiveness. And bravery is often rewarded.
I can’t control his actions, but I can control my response.
With shaky fingers, I unbuckle my seat belt and lean towards him.
Finn doesn’t look surprised or confused or excited, even. His features are schooled into perfect apathy as I press my lips to his.
Kissing and touching Finn reminds me of the electric fence around my grandparents’ farm. There was just enough voltage to give you a good solid zing.
For some reason, my cousins and I liked getting close to it. We’d get close enough to feel the buzz in the air.
Liking how close we were to danger.
Liking the feel of getting close to the thing that could hurt you without really letting it hurt you.
Except, with Finn, I’ve flung myself into the fence. The shocks are moving through me, and yet, I can’t seem to pull myself away.
Finn’s hand comes up into my hair, grabbing at the base of it and tugging, giving him better access to my mouth. He sucks at my bottom lip and flicks his tongue against mine.
Then, he twists my hair over my shoulder and sits up, bringing his body closer.
I lean in, too, ready for wherever he wants to take this.
Until, to my surprise, he wraps something around my neck.
I jerk back in shock.
Finn pulls away, sitting back in his seat, eyes narrowed on me with a devious smile playing across his perfect lips. “You like it?”
My hand comes to my throat, and I realize it’s a necklace of some kind.
No one but my mom has ever bought me jewelry, and I’m trying to understand what it means. Why he would do it.
But then, I look down and see the lock.
The necklace chain is thick, with a black ribbon woven between the metal. The chain ends with a metal hoop on each end, held closed with a heavy silver lock that rests against my collarbone.
Finn lifts his hand to show me, pinched between his fingers, a shining brass key. Once he knows I’ve seen it, he tucks the key into the pocket of his jeans.
“What is it?” My skin is cold where the lock touches my skin. It’s a chill that is slowly radiating outwards, as though the metal is cursed. “A necklace?”
He shrugs casually. “You can call it a necklace if you want.”
“What would you call it?”
His dark brow flicks up to touch the black hair curling over his forehead. Amusement is written all over his face. “A collar.”
“Like I’m a fucking dog?”
“No. Like you’re mine,” he says evenly. He almost sounds rational. “I thought you’d like it.”
I grit out, “Why would I like this?”
“Because you liked being mine the other night. You begged for it, didn’t you?”
His eyes trail over me, flicking back to the collar again and again, like he wants to make sure it is still there.
Embarrassment and anger and disappointment floods me, and I want to tear the necklace from my neck and hurl it at him. Except, I can’t.
He has the key.
But also, I have a sense that is what Finn wants.
He likes control, but more than that, Finn likes when he has to claim it. He likes when control has to be wrenched from the hands of someone else. When it has to be fought for.
He reaches out and strokes his finger down my arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake.
“When I slid inside of you and claimed you as mine, I distinctly remember you asking me to do it again … and again … and again.”
He is trying to make me feel ashamed of wanting him.
He is trying to turn a beautiful night into something dirty. Into something I should regret.
Dr. Sharon’s advice plays through my head. I can’t control his actions, but I can control my response.
“You’re right,” I purr, pasting on a seductive smile.
This time, Finn can’t hide his surprise. He blinks several times before his eyes narrow, suspicious.
“You’re absolutely right,” I continue, laying my hand on his knee and sliding it upward, stroking his thigh. “I wanted to be yours, and now I am.”
Finn makes a strangled noise before he slaps my hand away and slams his car into reverse. He pulls out so fast that I have to put my hand out to stop myself from smashing into the dashboard.
We are silent for the entire drive to the motel, but when Finn pulls up in front of our room number, he reaches across the car and grabs my face in his hand, squeezing mercilessly.
“You want to be mine?” he asks.
It’s hard to move when he is holding my face so tightly, but I manage a small nod.
Finn sneers. “Good. Then don’t forget who’s in charge.”
27
Lily
My mom gets home a few minutes after I do. She is smiling, so I assume all went well at her meeting, just like Finn said it would.
“Good, you’re home.” She hangs up her purse in the closet and untucks her Ravenlake Prep shirt. “Finn drove you?”
Finn? The “perfect gentleman”? The idea is laughable, but I manage to contain my humorless laughter and nod.
“Yeah. He just dropped me off a few minutes ago.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t pick you up. I had to meet with Mrs. Cooprider. She let me know confidentially that Mr. Foster isn’t pleased. The man is very important in this town, honey, and he is being very kind to us, all things considered. He could’ve very well been much harsher after everything you’ve done this week.”
“All the lies he told about me in the papers all summer were very charming,” I say before I can stop myself.
She doesn’t know Mr. Foster, regardless of what she thinks. I know him better than anyone. His son is a perfect reflection of who he is. Who all the Fosters are.
Monsters.
My mom’s smile falls. “I know we haven’t had the best history with him or the school, but considering your behavior this last week, they’ve treated us very fairly. As fairly as we can expect.”
I don’t have the energy to argue with her. Or the desire to explain exactly why nothing in this town is fair or right. So
, I just nod and go back to doodling in my sketchbook.
“They are still letting you go to the formal dance.”
I twist towards her in surprise, my pencil scratching through a flower petal I’d been shading. “Excuse me?”
“That girl’s parents wanted to keep you from the fall formal, but I managed to convince Mrs. Cooprider otherwise.”
“Why?”
“Exactly,” she says. “You are there on scholarship. They could have given priority to the paying family and left you defenseless, but they didn’t. We shouldn’t forget that.”
“I don’t even want to go.” I erase the errant line on my doodle as much as possible and blow the shavings off the paper. “I don’t know anyone, and the people I do know are mean.”
My mom walks over and sits on the edge of my bed, her hand squeezing my knee in a loving way. “I think you need to give everyone a chance. There are more people there than one mean girl. Look at Finn Foster. He is a nice boy who clearly likes you if he offered to pick you up from your therapy appointment. I think we both need to try and focus on the positives.”
I almost laugh in her face.
She wants to talk about positives? Fine. Let’s talk about positives.
Like how I’m positive Finn Foster is not a nice boy.
I’m positive I’d have a shitty time at the fall formal.
And I’m positive my mom is wrong by thinking we can look for the best in the people of Ravenlake Prep and find it.
There isn’t any good in that school. Or this whole fucking town.
Not from what I’ve seen of it.
But she already thinks I’m teetering on the edge of an episode. I can’t let her in on any of these thoughts. I need to put up a smiling front.
“Okay,” I lie. “I’ll try.”
She squeezes my knee one more time and starts to get up, but hesitates, her brows pulling together as she brushes aside my hair. “What’s around your neck? Where did you get that?”
My hand goes to the lock in a poor attempt to hide it, as though my mom will forget about it if she isn’t looking right at it. “Oh. Nothing. Just a necklace.”
“I’ve never seen it before.”
