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“You don’t know that.” She backs away from me as if I’m ready to pounce. “Did you know?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “You must have known.” She slaps my hands away when I try to touch her. “You knew they called the cops. That’s why you were there.”
Her face crumbles into tears as rage overtakes her. She slaps me as hard as she can, and it stings, but I can take it. I let her rage on me and then wait patiently for her to cry herself out.
She warns me in a harsh whisper. “If I find out you fucking knew about it…”
“I didn’t know.” I turn my face to avoid another blow. “We wanted to get even, but we would never call the cops. But I think I know who did it.”
“Who?” she demands.
I shake my head. “I can’t tell you.”
“My friends are in jail!” she shrieks, “I need to know who screwed us over.”
My anger finally flares. “You can’t know this person. He’s irrational and proved it tonight.”
Astrid drops down on the bed, falling into a heap as if her bones have melted from the anger inside her.
“I would never have let them call the cops.” I insist, grabbing hold of her. “You know I wouldn’t do that. Not to you or the rest of the Monarchs. And I’d never do that to Nova.”
The mention of Nova’s name starts the sobs again. “What will happen to her? I have to do something. My father’s not going to help me. I have no one to ask for help.”
I hate to call him while she’s here, watching me, but I pull my phone out and call Pierce. I tell him quickly what’s happened. I can tell by Astrid’s expression as she listens to the conversation that she’s starting to believe that we didn’t do this low thing. Pierce thinks like me—that it was Ted Leister who called the cops.
“I’ll make some calls,” replies Pierce on speaker. “And I’ll tell Leister to calm the fuck down. Maybe he did it because we didn’t act fast enough.”
“Spite, maybe?” I ask him.
“I don’t know, and I won’t guess,” he replies.
I eye Astrid, who’s closed her eyes while she listens. “I’m going to spend the night with her,” I tell Pierce.
Pierce is quiet for so long that I check the phone to see if he’s still on the line. “Okay,” he says quietly, “Let me know how she’s doing.” The call immediately ends.
I climb onto the bed and pull her into my arms. Astrid doesn’t move to get away from me. She moves closer, and her hands hold tight to my shirt. I make myself hold her gently, as if she were made of glass and not flesh and bone. She buries her face against my chest, and her grip tightens. She starts to mutter over and over. “Please don’t let me go.”
All the hate I had for her releases its hold on me as she clings to me. I pull a corner of the comforter over us for warmth.
“Baby, I won’t let you go,” I whisper.
She turns her head and meets my gaze. Her tears spill onto the bed as she reveals her emotions in her soft gaze. We both let go of all the hurt, and it begins to pour out of us. We stop fighting one another, destroying one another, as we hold on in this broken-down apartment. I need Astrid, so I lean in and kiss her.
Astrid’s sobs cease as she tugs at my shirt, pulling it out of my jeans. I reach for the hem and whip it off over my head. She sits up on the bed, and her kisses linger on my face as she tugs at my belt and pulls at the button on my jeans. My hands hover over her legs as I feel the smooth tights underneath her dress. I rub my hands up and down the smooth fabric as she undresses me as much as she can without losing contact with my lips.
My head is floating as I relax into the bed, and she crawls on top of me. I run my hand high up her leg and feel the band of her tights. My hand stays and explores the textures underneath her clothes and the warmth coming off her. Astrid moans in my mouth as my finger rolls down the thin elastic. I do it again, and she whimpers, holding onto me as she presses her chest against mine.
Christ, she’s shaved clean and soaking wet. I tear my hand back as I realize what I’m doing. Astrid just witnessed her best friends get arrested, and I’m going to jump her in her mother’s bed. This is wrong. I just crushed Justin for being a perv, and here I am just as wrong.
“What is it?” she says, pulling back to look at me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I reply, looking over at the pills on the table. “Get some sleep.”
“Get some sleep?” she stares at me, and that look confirms I’m an asshole. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you doing this to me?”
“Get some sleep.” I pull away.
My eyes widen as she slaps my chest hard with her hand. She observes my face closely for a reaction, and when I only stare back, she does it again. Harder. Soon blows are pelting down on me as Astrid goes wild, cursing and carrying on as if I have become the target. At first, I think it’s residual anger, but then slowly, I realize she’s really pissed at me.
“Leave!” she shrieks, “Get the fuck out.”
