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I nod.
“It’s for their own good. What if-”
“I know. I know!” I shout while throwing my hands up into the air. I can’t look at him right now. I will only feel guiltier. “He was there. At the coffee shop. They invited him.”
“Well, you got to put an end to that.”
I nod, knowing he’s right.
“They’re your friends, Rachel. They’ll understand.” He grabs my chin and lifts my eyes. As soon as I meet his gaze, I feel tears welling up again, threatening to stream down my cheeks and mess up my makeup even more than before. “Tell them what happened with Josh. I think it will do you some good to speak about it. You haven’t said a word since it happened and I don’t think it does you any good just shoving it under a rug and pretending nothing happened.”
I sniff and nod again. Words seem difficult today and all I can do is listen to Seth. What he speaks is true. I should talk about it more. I should at least tell my girlfriends what happened.
It’s just so hard.
Every time I think about telling someone, the memories return.
“And you should tell the school board about what he did.”
My eyes widen and I lean away from him, nearly falling out of my seat. “No.”
“Yes,” Seth says sternly. “You know I’m right.”
“They won’t do anything, Seth.”
“At least they will know something happened. Just in case he attacks another girl.”
I shake my head. “It was my fault in the first place.”
“How the hell was it your fault?” Seth shouts, making me grimace.
“I shouldn’t have been over there in the first place.”
Seth scoffs. “By that kind of logic, it should be my fault. I was the one who kicked you out. Is it my fault you got assaulted?”
My brows furrow together and I stare back at Seth, seeing his shoulders slumped and his eyes glittering with unshed tears of his own. I reach for him, grabbing his hands and pressing them against my heart. “No,” I breathe and Seth sighs, pressing his forehead against mine.
“It’s not your fault that guy is an asshole, Rachel.”
I nod, but I don’t say anything.
I might tell my friends eventually about Josh, but there is no way I am going to the school board.
“Do you want to work today?” asks Seth. “Get your mind off things? I can stay and walk you home after?”
I shake my head while sliding off the chair. “No, I should get a head start on my school work. I have a pretty heavy load this semester.” I groan and rub my head, feeling a headache coming on from all the crying. “Can you just tell me when I work next?”
“Wednesday,” Seth answers almost immediately. He smiles as my gaze narrows on him and gives me a shrug. “What can I say, I had a look as soon as I got in. We’ll be working together.” He waggles his eyebrows and I shake my head. “Maybe we can… do some other work while we’re here.”
I chuckle and swat at him, but he dodges me easily. With one final kiss goodbye, I walk out the door, shrugging my backpack further up my shoulder while I attempt to keep my balance on the ice covered sidewalks.
I can barely keep my eyes open as I walk. They feel so heavy from crying, exhausted from trying to focus on school rather than on Josh. And Hunter. I sigh, looking upwards at the cloud filled sky and wondering what the hell is wrong with this term. Sure, the workload is harder, but my personal life is supposed to be easy. I already have met amazing girlfriends and I’m dating three hot, sex Gods.
This term is supposed to be fun, yet I’ve already spent most of it either crying or obsessing about boys. I sigh as I trudge up the steps towards the apartment, shoving my hand into my bag to search for the keys. I briefly wonder if Hunter is home, but he’s most likely at football practice, or maybe at the gym.
Or somewhere far away from me, I think sadly.
I unlock the door and throw my backpack onto the couch, sliding my coat off and throwing it on the coat rack near the front door. I kick it close and stretch my arms over my head, hearing them pop and grimacing at the sound. Maybe I can put on some peppy music. That should get my mood up.
Hunter’s door opens and my eyes widen as he steps into the living room, bare chested and wearing low hanging sweatpants and slippers. His hair is tangled and hangs limply over his shoulders. He looks like he hasn’t bathed in a week. There is stubble along his jaw and he looks oddly thin.
I run my hands through my hair, feeling nervous as his bloodshot eyes meet mine. “Hey, Hunter,” I say, trying to force a smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace.
Hunter smiles. “Hey.”
