He grimaced. “If I tell you, promise you won’t get us kicked off the team before we’ve even played a game?”
“I’ll never get you kicked off the team, I promise,” I reassured him. After I got the name, I continued downstairs to throw away the glass.
I pulled my T-shirt off and shoved it in the laundry basket. I poured a glass of water and stared at my reflection in the kitchen window, which overlooked the outdoor pool.
Damaged goods.The guy who had said that would be having a talk with me. The scratch from Selena’s slap was a long, deep scratch mark across my left cheek. Just the thought reminded me of the blood on my white T-shirt and on Selena’s arms.
I grabbed the medical kit from over the counter and went back to my room.
Selena was out cold. Had she taken something? Was this the violent end of a bad trip? But Cal’s words turned over in mymind. Damaged goods. There was a whole story there, and I needed to know it.
I set the medical kit beside the bed and made my way to the bathroom. I washed my face and filled a glass with warm water. The scratch looked to be superficial.
I went back to my bed, sitting on the edge, and studied her. She wasn’t stirring. Either she’d taken something or she was exhausted.
I wet some cotton wool from the medical kit and started to clean her arms. I found the row of cuts high up on her inner arm. A part that would usually be hidden.
It wasn’t the only thing I found.
Old scars, precise and methodical, marching in short, straight rows along her inner arms.
She had spared her lower arm. Well, it wasn’t unmarked, but the mark there was different.
It looked like… a burn of some kind. Something hot had melted the skin. I couldn’t make out the symbol, the inside was too muddled with disfigured skin, but the circle was too perfectly round to be any accident.
It looked like a brand you might see on cattle.
I ran my finger over it, my thoughts quiet. The silence in my head was deafening.
I put antiseptic on the fresh cuts and taped a large, clean piece of gauze over them.
Then I tucked her arms under the covers. I cleaned up slowly. It was my way. Everything in its place. Except for her. WhenI finished, I sank into the leather armchair in the corner and watched her sleep.
Should I move her back to her room? Should I sleep somewhere else? Was it wise to leave her on her own?
Tiredness weighed down on me. When I couldn’t keep my eyes open one more second, I got up, went over to the free side of the bed, and slid in.
No. I wouldn’t be leaving her alone. No fucking way.
Selena
I woke slowly,light shining on my face and rousing me from sleep. I was so warm, almost hot. That was normal. I usually overheated myself with too many clothes, needing the comfort of my many layers to relax enough to fall asleep. But this morning, I felt different. I shifted and froze.
I didn’t have long sleeves on. I could feel the covers on my skin. That made the lingering sleepiness vanish in an instant.
I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings. I wasn’t in my room. While panic threatened to swoop down and engulf me where I lay… something held it back.
What was holding it back? A heavy weight lying over my middle, anchoring me to the bed. That might have been enough to send me over the edge, except, something inside me instinctively recognized who it belonged to. Against all logic, I was in Brody’s bed, and he was asleep behind me.
It was the smell. It was some kind of expensive cologne, mixed with something else that was just him. My body recognized it before my brain did.
So, I didn’t flinch. I didn’t freak out. I just… lay there, and let the comforting weight of his arm hold me effortlessly in place.
Slowly, the day before appeared in my memory. I’d gone to town. I did the audition. I met that cop in the street?—
Just like that, my ease vanished. His words, unexpected and unwanted, hit me out of nowhere. I hadn’t dealt with it well last night. After I’d scraped myself off the floor of the bookstore, I’d managed to get home, only to pace around my room feeling like I was losing my mind. My thoughts were a jagged, tangled mess. He’d seen a video of that night. A video that existed in the world. He could release it. Other people could see it.
My shame. The worst, most degrading experience of my life could be witnessed again and again. Those paranoid thoughts had hounded me into the bathroom last night, and hadn’t shut the fuck up until I’d made the first cut.
