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Ace used me.
He took something that was supposed to be special and turned it into something ugly.
But that isn’t the worst of it.
He knew how I felt about the kids at school. He knew what I’d endured, and he used that to his advantage.
“Stop the car,” I rush out, lunging for the handle. The car grinds to a halt and I shoulder open the door just in time to puke all over the side of the road.
“Oh God, James,” Mom cries. “We should have waited, we should—“
“I’m fine,” I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Remi, Ace assures me he was never going to play that tape. He was angry and hurting and he wanted to get back at me.” James sounds almost regretful, as if he buys his nephew’s lies.
But it doesn’t matter.
None of it does.
I’m already closing down. I feel my walls reinforce around me. Especially the one around my heart.
“I’m ready to go now,” I say, my voice detached.
“Remi, sweetheart, we need to talk about this. We’ve already spoken with Principle Vager, and he assured us that when you’re ready to return to school you’ll be—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does. It’s your senior year.” She keeps saying that as if it means something. As if this year should be any better than the last four I’ve endured.
“I know Hadley is desperate to have you back, and Bexley. He’s been worried—”
“Really, Mom?” I grit out. “You think I want anything to do with Bexley after what he did?”
She rears back as if my words are a physical slap. “He didn’t... it was an accident.”
“An accident that caused me to wake up in this nightmare,” I grumble. “Although I guess I should thank him. At least while I was lying unconscious on the ground I avoided my sex tape premiere.”
Shame and anger swell inside me until I feel like I might explode. Mom sobs while James sits there, staring at me with pity.
“Let’s talk about it when we get to the house,” James says.
I don’t reply.
What’s the point?
Everyone at the party saw a sex tape of me giving it up to Ace. I remember how turned on I’d been, how desperate I was to feel him inside me.
Christ.
The things I’d said.
The things we’d done.
I thought we were sharing something special—only to discover he planned on sharing it with the kids in our class.
You fucking idiot. My fists press hard against my leg. I want to scream. I want to grab the nearest fragile thing and break it, hear it shatter.
But as we approach my house, I realize it’s too late for that.
