AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“We’ll be around.”
I want to tell him to beat it. Just like I told Jason, I’m not their doll. There’s no way I’m playing their games anymore. Their arbitrary rules, the constant humiliation… I can’t live like that. In fact, tonight should be the last time I see Grant. There’s no reason we need to ever see each other again.
So… Why does my heart twist at the thought of never seeing Grant, Jason, or Trip ever again? Probably because I’m sick and twisted, just like Grant said. I bite my lip, and stare at Grant, who’s watching me, his expression shuttered. If I don’t go now, I know I might do something stupid like go home with him. So instead, I turn and practically throw myself out of the truck. I head toward the lobby. Each step takes me further away from Grant.
The man who just buried a body for me.
Thirty-Four
When Grant said “we’ll be around,” he meant it.
Though they never approached, every day over the course of the next week, the three of them would show up at the library or on campus. Jason would take his usual seat and study and Grant would eventually come join him. Trip never lingered around for study sessions, but I did catch him a few times, lingering in the parking lot, watching as I walked to and from my car.
While they kept their distance, so did I.
How do I go back to normal after everything they’ve put me through? After everythingI’veput myself through? I try to be normal. Like before, I ignore the guys when they’re around, I force myself to focus on work when I’m at the library, and when I’m at my hotel, I work on getting my living situation settled.
After a few days, I admit to myself, and Pianna, that maybe I do like them. Their intensity and scheming were fun. But it can’t always be like that. The risk is too great and ultimately, one of us will get burned. There needs to be a balance. So how do I get there? Until I can figure that out, I know I need to keep my distance.
That’s what I fall asleep telling myself Thursday night after finger fucking myself to the mental image of all three of them pressed against me. I wake a few hours later with a start. Why am I awake? It couldn’t have been a nightmare since I’m not lying in a puddle of my own sweat, but my heart is racing like I had one. I stare into the darkness, trying to get my breathing under control.
I strain to hear some noise, anything, to tell me that something is amiss, but other than the rattle of the air conditioning unit, there’s nothing. Just as my eyes begin to drift shut, I notice a darker shadow on the other side of the room where the chair is. I bolt upright with a gasp. Reaching over, I click on the lamp on the nightstand, ready to scream if necessary. The sound gets caught in my throat.
There, sitting in the chair, is Trip.
He looks rough. There are deep circles under his eyes, a heavy five o’clock shadow coming in, and his buzz cut looks like it could be touched up. I’ve never seen him so disheveled. In his hand, which is dangling off the armrest, is an empty bottle of Jack Daniels. Jesus, how long had he been sitting there drinking?
“Trip? What are you doing here?”
Despite his rough appearance and the unexpected company, I’m strangely pleased that he’s here. I didn’t realize how homesick I’ve been feeling until just now as the grief and loneliness ease in my chest.
“Just watching you sleep, dollface.”
I roll my eyes. “You can’t watch me sleep, Trip.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing every night this week?” His words come out slurred and on a heavy sigh.
Well, if I wasn’t awake before, I am now. With my eyes bulging from their sockets, I yank up the covers, scandalized.
“You’re lying!”
“Whatever you say, dollface.” Trip brings the bottle of Jack to his lips but frowns when he tips it back to find it empty. “Damn.”
Annoyance burns away the indignation. Glaring, I snap, “I’m not your doll anymore.”
Trip gets to his feet quicker than I would’ve thought given his state and takes a step towards me as he glares.
“You willalwaysbe my doll, Briella. I don’t give a fuck about what your stance is on this. We claimed you, and until you, or we, are dead, you’re fucking ours. Even then I won’t share you with God or the Devil. Do you understand me?” As Trip speaks, he gets louder and louder until he’s yelling. “We’re giving you the courtesy of this—” he waves around the room “—to make you feel better, but make no mistake, dollface, you’re ours and I’m about fucking fed up pretending like we’d be willing to stay away from you for much longer. I want my doll back where she belongs.”
His outburst steals my breath away. What’s he saying? That they’ve been placating me? That they still want me around? Skepticism and giddiness collide in my chest, leaving me only able to scoff. They still want me even after learning about Joey, hiding a body for me, and after I ran away? My declaration to Jason before I slipped away hadn’t put them off? Grant hadn’t pushed the issue about me sticking around in the car ride home, but he had made some startling revelations.
I stare up at Trip as he staggers closer and then plops his butt down on the edge of the bed. He raises the bottle up to his lips, but just like before, he finds it empty.
“Who keeps drinking my shit?”
“You, you doof,” I mutter, distracted. “Trip, where does your doll belong?”
Trip’s upper half sways as he stares at the bottle in his hand. After a long moment, he sighs and tosses it behind him. Thankfully, the bottle lands on the other side of the mattress and not in pieces on the floor. Slowly, he turns to face me. He blinks, and when he does, there’s a moment of clarity there.
