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“What?”
“When you were raped?”
I jerked back from him, my heart lurching. “I wasn’t raped.”
The events with Jeremy were…they were…
Not good—but I didn’twantto think of them as rape. It was like my identity as a Jew. I got to decide if I was or not, not anyone else. And even if I was in denial about the night on GHB, it was my right. No one else got to define my life for me. Not even Adam.
He reached out. “I know what happened damaged you. I’ve felt how you’ve changed. I didn’t want to say anything earlier because I didn’t want to hurt you. But you’re checked-out during sex now. Have you seen a counselor at all? To talk about it?”
I stared at him. Words didn’t come.
“I’m sure UT has free counseling for students. Most schools do. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Peter. And I’m here for you, okay?” He reached out again to pull me into a hug, and I let him, stunned. “I won’t ever leave you or hurt you. I promise. I love you.”
I held myself tightly in his embrace, wondering how my paranoia that he’d come inside me had turned into him saying I needed counseling for rape. AnddidI need counseling for rape? I didn’t think so. I just needed to feel safe with the guy I was with.
His watch beeped, and he cursed softly. “Sorry. I don’t want to go, but that’s the alarm I set for the absolute last minute to get on the road. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, not sure that I was at all, but rendered completely witless.
“I’ll see you next weekend? You’re coming to Atlanta?”
“Okay.”
Adam’s grip on my body tightened. “You’re sure?”
“I’ll be there.”
“We’ll get through what happened to you together, Eater. I promise.”
To distract him, I kissed him goodbye one last time. Long, lingering, and thorough. Then I stood in my driveway to watch his car disappear over the hill.
Back inside my house, I trudged upstairs, grabbing the trash can from beside my bed. I counted the contents out into a plastic bag (seven again) and took it all out to the large bin in the garage. Then I pulled the sheets off my bed and shoved them into the washing machine.
Next came the shower.
I scrubbed my body hard and carefully cleaned my sore asshole. I trembled with the exertion of washing. Emptiness like I’d never known scraped me out, and I wondered how one day with Adam had left me feeling more used than a night on GHB in a gay club.
Chapter Seventeen
‡
Iwalked upthe stairs of Tilt-a-Whirl without my camera to shield me.
Adam had been gone only eight hours, and I’d spent the day restlessly replaying the sex we’d had, obsessively counting each time. It never made me feel better, and I was ashamed of the fact that I’d actually jacked off remembering the fuck on the stairs. I had no self-control.
I was disgusting.
I entered the smoky lower room, braced for rejection. It was early still, only eight o’clock, but there were already some regulars seated around the bar drinking. I released a tense breath and headed upstairs.
Barry was at his usual place setting up for the night. Minty and Windy sat on barstools across from him and Antonio stood beside them. Renée was nowhere to be seen, probably in her dressing room getting ready. Daniel was also absent. My heart sank.
Barry saw me first and lifted his chin in acknowledgment before pouring my usual club soda into a glass. Minty, Windy, and Antonio all turned around, staring as I approached. My heart beat faster, and my hands went clammy.
Antonio lifted his drink and called out, “Long time, no see! Get your cute butt over here for a hug. We won’t bite, will we, assholes?”
Minty rolled his eyes and turned his back on me, sipping at a Jolly Zima. Windy gave me a tight smile before tugging at his purple shirt and bending to whisper something in Minty’s ear. Neither of them greeted me.
