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“It’s Colette’s number?”
My mom nodded, completely unaware she had shattered everything I’d believed for months into tiny pieces.
“So, tell me,mi vida, how is class? Do you have a favorite subject yet?”
I focused on my mom and placed the anxiety over the number aside with great effort. There was a lot more to what had happened over summer, clearly, and I was going to get to the bottom of it.
Eve
I stewedover what I’d found out the whole way back to campus later.
Should I tell Beckett? What if it damaged his relationship with his stepmom? Or worse, what if he didn’t care? I wasn’t sure I could handle that.
I rested my head back against the bus window, letting out a long sigh. Sure, when we were young, there hadn’t been any love lost between Beckett and his stepmom, but he’d been a little boy grieving. Surely they got along now? But Colette had lied to me and impersonated Beckett to send me that cruel message…Something didn’t fit with the thought that she was just a concerned stepmom. Something else was going on, and I had no idea what.
Beckett never ignored you. He never blew you off.
My chest warmed at those words, and the anger I’d felt earlier about the cheerleading team ebbed slightly. He was still a raging asshole, but was there even the slightest possibility that he thought I was the one who’d ignored him all summer? Was thereany way his anger could be justified? Had he been waiting to see me? My heart clenched hard at the thought of him hurt and alone, waiting for me to show…only to be disappointed.
When I got home, he was in the kitchen, making a protein shake. When he stood just right, I could see the line of his scar. Did he think I’d abandoned him?
“Good evening, Cinderella. I wondered when you were going to show…after last night, I wasn’t sure you would manage it.” He smirked at me.
Heat licked my cheeks. Crap, why couldn’t I remember? “What happened last night?”
“Except for breaking my rules, spectacularly, I might add, you were a handful…Let’s just say that you’re a handful when you’re wasted and don’t want to take no for an answer.”
The heat in my cheeks burned hotter, and I fought not to drop his gaze. “What does that mean?”
“It means that you crawled into my bed and begged me to fuck you. It was quite a display.”
“Liar.”
He shrugged, uncaring. “I guess that means you and frat parties don’t mix. Just another reason not to sweat it if you don’t make the cheerleading squad.”
As soon as he said it, the tentative warmth in my chest toward him evaporated and my anger reignited.
“Are you trying to comfort me right now? After what you did?”
I stormed across the room to him, grabbed the protein shake, and tossed it down the sink. He watched the liquid drain down before turning to me, annoyingly unruffled.
“And what did I do?” he asked, refusing to rise to my chaotic energy.
“You got me barred from the cheerleading team.”
He nodded. “So, you know about that? Good. It’s not right to have secrets between roomies.”
His mocking raked along my nerves. He had the nerve to chuckle at my glare.
“Anyway, barred is an ugly word. I made it clear to all the date rapists on the team that you weren’t going to be fodder for them.”
“Date rapists?”
“You don’t remember being roofied last night?”
He leaned against the counter. I swallowed my protest and cast my mind back over the things I could remember. Admittedly, there were a lot of holes. I remembered having a drink with Warner, very vaguely, and before that, Selena’s potent cocktail. Maybe I’d just been drunk? It was possible.
“No. How do you know it was a roofie?”
