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Given her and Charlie’s animosity, I expect Serenity to act smug, but she surprises me when she gives me a pointed look. “Did you apologize and tell her what happened?”
“Err, no. Well, I mean, I sort of apologized?”
Seren looks exasperated. “You’re such a guy sometimes.” She stands. “I need to go, but there’s one more thing I heard the other day.”
I motion for her to continue, knowing gossip is her love language.
“So I learned this from Melanie, Monica’s girlfriend.” I stare at her blankly. I don’t know who the fuck that is. She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, Monica said her cousin’s boyfriend is on the hockey team. Andheheard that one of the regular puck bunnies hooked up with Matt.”
“Jesus, this is like one of Luis’s stories fromAnt-Man.”
She gives me a confused look before continuing. “Apparently, the girl came forward a couple days ago and accused Matt of raping her. And the school board dismissed her claim.”
A chill runs through my body. “What?”
“I don’t know the girl’s name, but if it’s true, how despicable is that? Typical untouchable college jock.”
I frown because she’s right. If Matt really raped a girl and got away scot-free, it would take nothing short of murder to get the guy off campus.
My instincts about him are spot on: Matt Johnson is bad news.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHARLIE
It’s late, and I’m tucked into a table at the library, studying for a European history test. At least it’s interesting, learning about the rise and fall of empires. It makes my problems feel small, like maybe I’m blowing everything out of proportion.
I sigh, my concentration wearing thin as my mind returns for the hundredth time to the encounter I had with Lincoln and Trey yesterday. I was a romantic before Matt ruined me, and sometimes I wish I still were. Now, I’m a cynic with serious trust issues. But I guess letting those two give me orgasms has nothing to do with trust.
I glance at my laptop screen. My internship application sits open, the cursor blinking in one of the white answer fields. I’ve been filling out bits and pieces and saving it, but the process has been slow. I can’t submit it until I have some polished writing samples, and I need to take their editing test, but every time I try to get ahead and fill out the application, my mind goes blank.
I hear a whisper of clothing as someone approaches my table, and in the dim light, I’m surprised to see Serenity walking toward me. She’s wearing yoga pants, a sequined pink pullover, and little makeup with her shiny blonde hair pulled into aponytail. It’s the first time I’ve seen her look, well, normal—if there is such a thing.
I glance around at the empty space, realizing it’s just her and me. “You’re not here to murder me and hide my body in the stacks, are you? Because I’m not in the mood for a bitch fight.”
“Relax,” she says, folding her arms over her chest with a conceited smirk. “I didn’t come to start shit.”
I lean back in my chair, regarding her a moment before I decide she seems truthful. “Okay, so what do you want?”
She kicks her Ugg boot at some invisible rock on the worn brown carpet. “I just want to know why you chose him.”
“Who? Lincoln? I didn’t choose him,” I say with a frown. “He aggressively inserted himself into my otherwise peaceful life. I didn’t ask for his attention, and I’m not entirely sure I want it.”
She raises her ice blue eyes to mine, and I see the hurt simmering beneath her mean girl façade. “Well, I’ve wanted him my whole life. He was my best friend once. We were raised on the same street, and we used to do everything together. He came to my birthday parties and my dance recitals and…” She hesitates as if she’s not sure she should continue.
“Look, we’re not buddies—we’re not even frenemies—so you don’t have to share this.”
She schools her expression and smiles at me. “You’re right. But I wanted to tell you that I’m leaving Whitmore after this year.”
“Really?” I won’t lie, a guilty sense of relief floods my limbs at the thought of being rid of her.
“Yeah, I wanted to tell Link first, so I called him at work yesterday.” Some little part of me that was wound tight with jealousy relaxes at her admission. “He was always supportive of my dance career even after I went through a rough spot, and I was accepted into an academy in California where I can train to be a dance teacher.”
“That’s really cool, Serenity. You must be so excited.”
“I am,” she replies, smiling sadly.
“But why are you telling me this?”
