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“Was it—” Mel barely whispers the words, “was it rape?”
I pause.
Was it?
In all the time I tossed and turned in bed last night, I haven’t asked myself that question even once.
“You don’t look devastated,” Justine says carefully. I can feel the worry in her eyes as she inspects the side of my face that she can see. “But of course, that doesn’t mean you aren’t. So are you?”
“I—” I lick my lips, looking down at my hands as they trace the edges of my Ultrabook. My back is straight, my suit perfectly ironed, my mask of cool professionalism in place. I need it more than ever, but while the swipes of my fingers might be smooth and my attitude collected, I’m a fucking mess.
I shake my head, unable to decide on an answer. Annie reaches over the table, grabs my wrist and squeezes so hard that I yank it away.
“Ouch, why are you so strong?” I protest, rubbing my wrist.
“You’re not gonna stop talking now, missy,” she hisses. “We want all the spicy details, because guess what? There’s no mistaking that blush in your face. I know you way too well. You came for him long and hard. You’re probably horny right now just remembering it.”
The blush that she speaks of turns to fire in my cheeks.
“You want all the spicy details, but you’re only speaking for yourself,” I counter.
“Oh, she’s speaking for all of us,” Mel chimes in.
Justine just stares, a bit uncertain, her expression compassionate but expectant. She’s the only one in our group who’s experienced a King intimately enough to relate to this in the flesh. Well, technically Mel has too, but the man who forced himself on her, Dogg Wilson, never deserved the title.
“Spill it,” Annie presses.
“Let’s just say that I didn’t have a choice, but he didn’t technically force himself on me.”
None of them says a word, so I continue. “Listen, I don’t want to get into how and why it happened, because I’m not sure myself. Believe it or not, him even wanting this with me was a fucking shocker. The core of the matter is that it happened, and I wanted to be the first to tell you.” My eyes flick up at Justine. “I couldn’t bear you looking at me the way you did yesterday.”
“Hey, I’m still mostly in the dark here,” Annie chimes in, putting up her hand. “What am I missing?”
Mel and I exchange looks before she nods, bends down to Annie’s ear and explains the situation to her in as much detail as possible in the span of a few minutes. I watch Annie’s eyes as they widen, then narrow, then she finally nods like she gets it. Then she looks at me without the slightest trace of pity or judgment.
“So, Romano twisted your arm first, and then Micah did too,” she says matter-of-factly. “One thing’s for sure sister, when you get out of this mess you’ll be the most badass woman alive, having dealt not with one, but two Heathen Kings.”
I raise my eyebrows. “When? If is more like it.”
She shrugs. “I’m sure you’ll find a way. You always do.”
I usually hate it when people say that to me. I heard the phrase all my life. The neighbors said it when Dad left Mom. Social Services said it when it turned out my mother’s addiction had gotten out of hand, and when the shrink diagnosed my younger sister, Goldie, with schizophrenia. My college friends said it before I took the exams that could make or break my career. Everyone in my life has said it at one time, and then left me alone to deal with the demons, to fight the fights, to cry the tears, to die the deaths. But something is different about the way Annie says it. From her, it comes to me like a liberation.
“I’ve got your back, Evita,” she says with a determined nod, the trust in her eyes bringing tears to mine. I breathe in deeply and blink them away before they fall down my cheeks.
She believes beyond a doubt that I had powerful reasons to do what I did with Romano, and she doesn’t need the details of my arrangement with him to confirm it. But the naughty upturn of her lips tells me she still wants everything on Micah, if only to lighten an unbearably heavy situation.
“But you have to give us something,” she whispers, confirming my hunch. “Like how did he approach you, how was the first kiss, how did it feel when he first touched you?”
Mel and Justine hardly breathe too, their eyes fixed on me. Expecting, but not daring to reinforce Annie’s question. I know them well enough to understand why—they feel guilty for doubting me.
“I see that the cat ate your tongue, so your body language is all we get.” Annie leans back against her chair and taps her chin with her index finger, her eyes turning to slits behind her glasses as she analyzes me. “There’s a rosiness in your cheeks and a shine to your hair, and—” She pauses, and my breath catches, because that means she just saw it. She saw the emotion that cut through me at her probing. Memories of last night roll unbidden to the front of my mind, and I have to clench my thighs against the wetness that slips into my panties.
“You enjoyed it like a motherfucker,” she whisper-screams, basically throwing herself at me over the table. “You fucking savored it! Come on, enough of the prudishness. How does he kiss? Did he lick your pussy? Did he force you to your knees to suck his dick?”
Extreme heat shoots into my cheeks as I hold up my palms.
“Whoa, too many questions at once.”
