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They don’t try to help me.
Why would they?
Finally, I reach the door and spill into the murky air. It wasn’t raining this morning, but it is now.
Still, I stand there, sucking in big greedy mouthfuls of air as the rain pelts down on me saturating my hair and my uniform. But there’s something grounding about it.
Something soothing.
“Abi?” A voice calls, and I blink against the downpour. For a second, I picture Elliot storming toward me. Strong, silent Elliot Eaton.
The boy I wanted to give myself to.
But it’s Ethan who cuts through the sheet of rain, frowning down at me.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he grabs my shoulders, concern etched onto every line or his face.
“I… I needed to get out of there.”
“You’re wet through,” he says. “Here, take my jacket.”
“No, that’s not—” But he’s already shucked out of it to wrap it around my shoulders.
“Come on, let’s get you somewhere dry.”
“I… yeah, okay.”
He hooks his arm around my shoulder and pulls me toward the boys’ dorm building.
And despite the warning bells in my head—despite Tally’s warning—I don’t protest. Because if I go back to my dorm room alone, I’m not sure I can fight it.
This time, I’m not sure I want to.
22
ELLIOT
Istare in disbelief as Abigail allows Ethan fucking Smith to lead her into the boys’ dorms in the middle of the day.
There are kids everywhere, not that any of them—aside from me—are paying any attention.
They’re all too busy focusing on their own bullshit lives to care about what two of the quietest members of the cohort are doing. Even if it is unheard of for a girl like Abigail to willingly step inside that building.
Just like with the girls’ dorms, members of the opposite sex aren’t allowed.And yet she’s following him without a second thought.
My fists curl so tightly that my fingers begin to cramp as they both disappear inside the building.All the air in my lungs rushes past my lips as the rain continues to drench me.
I shouldn’t have followed her when I saw her fleeing from the cafeteria, but like with most things that involve Abigail, I couldn’t stop myself.
If I were just a few seconds earlier, I’d have gotten to her first.
I could be the one leading her into my bedroom to comfort her.
Instead, I’m standing here like a loser, watching her disappear into someone else’s room.
Images of what they could get up to in there, all the ways he could distract her from her grief flicker through my mind, only fuelling the already out-of-control inferno of anger and jealousy erupting inside me.
Rain trickles down my face as students continue to run back and forth, hurrying to congregate under the canopies around us, sheltering from the downpour.
