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Or was it just that I wished I’d never gone to that award show to avoid everything that had happened since?
I don't know what I want anymore.
“Lennon, are you just gonna sit there, staring at the wall? Or are you actually gonna say something?”
I had to saysomething. He neededsomethingfrom me, so without thinking, I blurted, “I saw Dylan tonight.”
Peter's fist hit the bed between us, making me jolt.
“I fucking knew it,” he shouted. “Goddammit! I knew—”
“You knewwhat?” I asked, turning to face the ugliness written on his features. The fury in his eyes. The angry pinch of his lips.
“I knew you'd been seeing him,” he spat, shaking his head and clenching and unclenching the hand pressed into the bed. “I fuckingknewyou couldn't stay away from that guy.”
There were several things he could’ve accused me of that would’ve been true, but that wasn’t one of them.
I shook my head. “No,” I replied, keeping my tone calm and even. “Peter, I haven't been seeing him at all. I haven't seen him in weeks, not until tonight. I-I've barely talked to him since my birthday. But he's leaving tomorrow, so I—”
“So you wanted to fuck him one last time?” he interjected, raising his voice above mine.
My bottom lip trembled at the accusation, even though I knew I would have done it had Dylan not stopped things from going further. That knowledge pricked at my cheeks until they were blazing hot with my shame.
“N-no, that's not what happened. I-I-I …” I closed my eyes and turned away from the fiery rage in his searing gaze before saying, “I kissed him, and … it went a little further, but he stopped—”
“Get out of my fucking bed,” he shouted, yanking the comforter from my trembling legs.
The reaction was justified, and I nodded as I took my phone from the nightstand and let my feet hit the floor, unable to look in his direction. I didn't need to. I could feel his hatred slicing through the heavy silence and piercing my frantic, aching heart.
Shaking at the foot of the bed, I clutched the phone to my chest and said in a small, frail voice, “I guess I’ll just—”
“I don't give a fuck what you do, you fucking slut,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “I'm washing my hands of this shit. I'm done.”
The insult stung like salt to an open, gaping, oozing wound. Of all the nasty things I'd called myself in the hours since seeing Dylan, a slut was never one of them. I didn't think it applied. Yes, I was weak in Dylan’s presence, and I should've known better. Yes, I was a horrible, cheating liar who couldn't keep her hands or lips to herself. Yes, I was an adulterer, entangled in unbeatable feelings for a man she shouldn't want.
But aslut?
It felt hideous and disgusting. It felt wrong.
But what the hell did I know? Maybe he was right. Maybe I really was a slut, and maybe I’d earned the title. So, without another word, I left the bedroom, wearing the brand of his hatred, and sat on the couch to weigh my options.
I could call Dylan and ask for a ride, but I imagined what might happen if he came. I could see Peter charging from the bedroom to beat Dylan to a pulp, and while he had been a participant in the infidelity, it wasn't Dylan's fault. He didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of Peter's wrath, especially when he had so much on his plate as it was.
No, I won't call Dylan.
I could call my parents, and although it was late, they would come to get me. But Mom would have some things to say, likeI told you so, and Dad would be disappointed to lose the man he’d dreamed of having as a son-in-law. Both were inevitable. I'd have to face them eventually, but in the moment, I was hurting enough with my guilt andslut-slut-slutweighing heavily on my mind and heart.
Definitely not calling them.
Tarryn was in Scotland, and Connor was in Connecticut. There was no doubt both would feel a deep desire to hop in a plane or a car and come to my rescue, but the fact remained that they were too far to be of any use immediately.
I wish they were closer.
Without the funds to call a cab, there was only one option left, and although I wasn't happy about it for sheer lack of having that type of friendship with her, I had no choice but to pick up my phone and dial the only other number I could think of.
Cassie, please pick up…
***
