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Despite being used to Wes’s couch for years, I sleep like crap. Constantly seeing Lilly speed in the opposite direction has me wound up tighter than a two-dollar watch. When I walk through the door, Dad’s simple, "How are you?" makes me snap. He looks at me with a mixture of concern and understanding after my outburst, which makes black spots appear in my vision. It is his motherfucking fault that I’m in this mess. With balled fists, I head upstairs to cool off. Another confrontation wouldn’t end well. I’m smart enough to recognize that, even in my current state.
After herdingLilly out of my room, I retreat to my bed and grab the nearest pillow. Biting down on it, I let out the primal scream that has been building up the entire week. When I’m done, I call Wes and let him know that I’ll be back at his place in a few. My voice is no more than a croak, and I have to assure him three times that everything is fine. Of course, nothing is fine. He knows it, and I know it, but he stops asking. Holding Lilly for those few minutes...that can’t happen again. I need to stay away.
Looking around my room, I draw in a deep breath and come to a decision. Grabbing a third bag, I pack almost my entire wardrobe. I’ll start washing my clothes at Wes’s or the laundromat—anything to not have to come back here.
Kat has,thankfully, been completely absorbed with cheer practice, and I only have to playthe partwhile we’re in school.
Two of her girls broke something on the ski trip, and she’s had to train the replacements personally. No one else is good enough—her words, not mine. I can barely contain my relief when she tells me on the first day of school with a pout on her face, making sure everyone sees it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The days turn into a week,then another, and before I realize it, it has been four weeks since we returned from our trip. I’ve perfected my route between classes to avoid the daily grope session—at least, I thought I did. This weekend is our first invitational at home, and the entire team is buzzing with excitement. The last two invitationals went better than any of us had expected with the freshman that joined the team this year. Some are already talking about the Senior Showcase Invitational. I’m focused on Den discussing a fumble with one of the new girls and don’t pay attention that we are exiting through the west wing doors, not the east wing doors—my newroute to class.
"BAAABYYY, THERE YOU ARE!"
My eyes snap up, and there he is. Shit! With perfecting my route, I thought I had also perfected the not caringagain, but as soon as my eyes land on Rhys, the freaking flutter is back.
Wonderful, I have a first-row seat for today’s show.
Katherine is dressed in her blue-and-yellow cheer uniform. I swear, she has taken at least two inches off the skirt. Her hair is styled impeccably; her elaborate ponytail is curled to precision with a ginormous bow in matching colors, and even the loose strands around her face have been manipulated to appear unintentional. As soon as she reaches Rhys, she jumps into his arms, and hehasto catch her under her ass, or she would’ve slid down him like a greased stripper pole. Sadly, for some reason, I can actually see that becoming her reality if she doesn’t find a rich heir and become his trophy wife. It’s like watching one of those terrible reality shows. You are fully aware that you shouldn’t watch it, but you can’t turn it off because you’ve somehow gotten emotionally invested despite your better judgment. She immediately shoves her tongue down his throat. The guys standing with them are starting to whistle and hoot. I feel bile rising in my throat, but I can’t move.
I absently feel a hand on my arm, but it’s like I have tunnel vision. Rhys lets Kat slide down, and as soon as she hits the floor, he steps away. Wes materializes next to him and nudges his elbow, looking at me. Rhys’s eyes flick in my direction and widen when he realizes what—or more likely who—Wes is pointing out.
Locking eyes with him is like someone pouring a bucket of water over my head, and it becomes clear what I’m doing. My jaw hurts, and I can feel the imprints of my fingernails in my palm. Rhys takes a step toward me, and my entire body goes ablaze.
Crap.
I turn and walk toward the nearest bathroom as fast as I can without breaking into a full-on sprint. Inside, I lean with my hands on the sink and stare at my reflection in the mirror.
Breathe.
The door opens behind me. Denielle steps in, crossing her arms, and leans with her hip against the sink next to mine. "Uh, what was that?"
My breathing is still ragged, and I snap, "WHAT?"
She gestures toward the hallway with her head. "That! I thought you were going to jump the Wicked Bitch out there."
"Did she really have to maul his face like that in public? It’s gross," I pretty much shout.
I need to get a grip. What am I doing?
I look at my best friend through the mirror, and my gaze is met with a raised eyebrow. "Is there something you haven’t told me?"
I frown at her. I don’t like where this is going—exactly where I haverefusedto go since the first flutter.
"Let’s get to class. We’re late." I turn, pull the door open, and walk out without giving her a chance to respond.
That night,I literally run into Rhys while coming out of my room and am too stunned to say anything. I don’t remember the last time he was home this early—or in general. He must’ve come straight from practice.
We’re in a standoff until he clears his throat. "Cal, uh, about today..."
Oh no, he’s not going there. I look past him at the wall, feeling my ears heat. I notice movement out of the corner of my eye. Natty and Heather are coming out of Natty’s room.
"There is nothing to talk about." It’s not more than a hissed whisper.
His shoulders slump, but I am in self-preservation mode. The whole encounter has me unsettled enough, especially with Denielle eyeing me for the rest of the day. I turn on my heels and go back to my room. I can’t face anyone. Leaning against my closed door, I sink to the floor, no longer able to hold my tears back. Slamming my fists against the floor, Ialmostwish I had never found out about my past. I was content with my pre-Thanksgiving-break life.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
