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“You don’t know who I am,” I whispered.
“Say it isn’t true,” he insisted, his nose almost touching mine. I stepped back, and he followed. His breath wafted across my face. “It’s so wrong. The girl I dated, the girl I knew, would never sell her body.”
“Sometimes,” I rasped, “wrong is right.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. It’s true. You’re having sex with that piece of shit for money.”
“Don’t you dare call him a piece of shit.” My voice rose.
“I’ve seen him around. I hate the way he walks. Like he’s better than everyone else, looking down on us mere mortals. And what about you? He was right. You’re a slut.”
“Shut up, Dexter,” I hissed.
“No. Uh-uh. I can’t believe this. I knew you were going downhill, but now…” He whistled.
I reared back like I’d been slapped. “What does it matter to you?” I snapped. “You’re not my boyfriend anymore.”
“He came on to you right in front of me. You were talking at that party before Thanksgiving. His eyes were all over you.”
“That was girls’ night,” I said weakly. “You crashed.”
“You were mine. MY girlfriend. Were you cheating on me? Fattening up your wallet even then?”
“No!” I tried to shout. My voice stalled in my throat, like in a dream where all you want to do is scream, but you can’t.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“Because I don’t lie.” Such bullshit. I’d told Dexter a thousand little lies. “I’m not lying about this. I’ve never cheated.”
“Right, whatever you say.” His voice slid over me. “At least your friend puts out for free.”
“What are you talking about?” I whispered. “What friend?” Dexter’s eyes darted back and forth. “You mean Sydney?”
His face shifted into a crafty smile. “You always thought you were better than her. For awhile, I thought so too.”
“Don’t talk about her like that,” I began, and broke off. The awful truth hit me before I could find the words. I was falling down a tunnel. “You and Sydney—”
“It just happened, Christina.”
“What do you mean, it just happened?” My voice rose. “That shit doesn’t just happen.”
“Maybe for you. But for girls like Sydney…”
“When?” I snapped.When?”
“November. You were partying harder, letting yourself go, and Sydney wanted to talk because she was concerned. So she came over, and…” He shrugged.
I swallowed pure rage. “Was that the only time?”
“You kidding?” He grinned. “We’re talking about Sydney.”
I tried to breathe. I was so angry with Sydney, so angry with Dexter, leaning close to me, his head inclined like we were about to kiss.
“You’re an asshole,” I whispered.
His teeth bared in a humorless smile. A chill seeped through me. “You want details?” he breathed into my ear. “Last time we fucked was January. That first Friday night. There were a fuckton of people staying at her apartment, and we screwed in her room. She waswet.”He let out a long, low whistle. “And she was down to do things you never— But I guess all bets are off with you, huh?”
I felt sick. That first Friday in January, I’d called Sydney, desperate because my utilities were dead. She’d turned me down, and I’d gone to Kappa Sig. To Patrick. To his bed. When she called to offer a spot on her floor, it could have been while Dexter was there.
