by Molly E. Lee
After some calm breaths, I focused on my own healing process and hoped I could transfer some of that to the person who wrote in. Though I knew words were a flimsy excuse for a good shoulder to cry on and a person who cared about you who was truly listening. Not judging. Not advising. Just listening.
Like Dean had for me.
Like all these people who had written in had unknowingly helped me heal through our connection.
Still, the post left me sticky inside.
There were too many of these comments. Too many of this variety.
And I was so powerless to stop it.
One small speck on the web, begging for change, and wishing like hell instances like these weren’t such a universal occurrence.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Amber
“You sure you’re cool with it?” Hannah asked as we walked to the parking lot. Class had let out ten minutes ago, and after the oh-so-fun visit from Principal Tanner telling me that Code Club was over for the year, I was free to give Hannah a ride home.
Dean had texted that he had to stay late and would call me later.
The days were growing tenser regardless of the happiness I had with Dean. The secret of the blog—and the protests, supporters, and popularity—weighed on me more and more.
Only two more months till graduation and less than two weeks till college acceptance letters are mailed.
I reminded myself that then I’d say goodbye to this place forever. I hadn’t decided what I’d do with the blog when that time came, but I was certain I’d have to tell someone about it. Dean or Hannah or, hell, even my mom. Keeping everything to myself was turning my stomach into an acid trap. But it would have to wait. Until it was safe to admit my creation. When Tanner no longer held this major power role in any of our lives.
God, that would be some kind of sweet freedom.
“Amber?” Hannah stopped me, her hand on my shoulder as I almost walked right past my car I was so in my head.
“Yeah?”
“Are you sure you’re good with tonight?” she asked again.
“Oh,” I said, snapping back to reality. “Yes, totally.”
We climbed into my car, heading straight to her place. She’d been grounded after the birth control fiasco, which I still felt responsible for—she wouldn’t have been caught if she hadn’t been writing in to my blog.
“I’m sure she’ll let you out to help me with a project,” I said, flashing a smile. It had been months. Hannah deserved to go to Jake’s pre-spring-break party. And after everything that had happened in the last few months? I actually felt like going, too. Felt like escaping the comments that stockpiled in the blog’s inbox and the parents who wrote in to tell me how evil I was.
“I hope so,” she said. “I’m one more night away from going Shining on everyone.”
I totally understood. The tension between her and her parents had never been so intense, and I hated that for her. She didn’t deserve the reaction she’d gotten, so I had no qualms whatsoever about sneaking her out of the house.
It only took twenty minutes to convince her mom to let her go with me—and only me—to study at my house. Which we technically did—for about two seconds while we got ready for the party. I dressed in a pair of distressed jeans and my favorite sweater, and typed out a fast text to Dean, letting him know the plan.
Dean: Tanner is keeping me hostage for a project.
Dean: Fill you in later.
Dean: Once he lets me out I’ll meet you at the party, Pixie.
“Whoa,” Hannah said as I pocketed my cell.
“What’s up?”
“You’re in love!”
“What?” I laughed, but it was forced.
Hannah jumped up and down, throwing her arms around my neck. Then she smacked my arm. “How could you not tell me?”
I rubbed at the spot. “Omigod, Hannah! That hurt.”
“Whatever. Talk.”
I gaped at her for a second before shrugging. “I don’t know what we are yet! I’m…”
“Scared?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Don’t be,” she said. “I see it. How it is between the two of you. It’s completely different than…” She stopped herself. “It’s different. You’re different. You’re more you than you have been in so, so long.”
She wasn’t wrong. The time Dean and I had spent together, the closeness I felt to him…
We’d breezed through Christmas and Valentine’s Day—a flurry of kisses, Code Club, and chatting until we feel asleep at our keyboards.
I had it so, so bad.
“I know,” I finally said. “I found a way to heal myself…somehow.” I wished I could tell her how the blog had helped me so much. My thoughts traveled to the one I’d posted before school—the boy’s story about being drunk at a party, his brother’s friend taking things too far, the shame he felt, the way he’d been blamed…it had hit so damn close to home. And yet, where there once was a gaping hole of hurt had sealed over with a layer of camaraderie and strength directly from connecting with people like him. People who wrote to me daily for help. “But,” I continued, “he knows everything and it hasn’t changed anything between us. He doesn’t see me as damaged.”
“You’re not,” Hannah said. “That jackass is.”
I huffed. “Yeah.”
Hannah clapped again. “Is Dean coming tonight?”
I nodded. “After he wraps up a project.”
“Yay!” She waggled her eyebrows. “It’s been months and I’ve never properly BFF grilled him.”
I gasped. “No, no, no. You totally can’t!”
She laughed, nodding dramatically. “I have to,” she said. “It’s my duty.” Her shoulders sank. “I won’t mess up again.”
“Oh, Hannah, stop.” I wrapped her in a hug. “It wasn’t anything any of us could’ve prevented. Trust me. No one saw it coming.” Especially me. “Brandon”—I said his name through gritted teeth—“it’s all on him. And it’s in the past. I’m so over it.” And it was amazing how true that felt. The guilt and shame and blame he’d made me feel over the event—it was bullshit. It wasn’t my fault. I hadn’t asked for it. My body was mine, my choice. Who I gave it to and what I did with it. Not anyone else’s.
“Okay,” she said, brightening again. “I haven’t gotten to see Jake outside of school this whole time.” She grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the door. “Thanks for this,” she said. “Now hurry the hell up!”
I laughed, rolling my eyes as I fished my keys out of my bag.
Fifteen minutes later, I was—once again—the third wheel to the Hannah/Jake lovefest, but this time around I didn’t feel so alone. There were plenty of people at the party, but that wasn’t it, either.
It was Dean. The way we were together. The way he made me feel. It was like this impenetrable force field surrounding me—as long as he was mine, nothing could touch me. Was this love? Was this what that felt like?
Intoxicating, more so than the booze the party offered but I’d refused to touch.
After that night, I’d never wanted to be in an out-of-control position again—not that I faulted anyone else for indulging.
I glanced at my cell again, checking to see if Dean was on his way.
He wasn’t.
I scanned the area. Jake and Hannah were wrapped up in each other, understandably making up for lost time since she’d been grounded. Jake’s parents were out of town prompting the whole party in the first place. Music filtered throughout the house and a variety of couples danced in the entertainment room. Others simply chatted, played beer pong or other drinking games. The same party regardless of when or where.
My skin prickled, an awareness rippling over my skin like the sting of sunburn. I must’ve spotted him from the corner of my eye without realizing.
Brandon.
Drunk.
His booming laugh dominated from the beer pong table, Sabrina sloppily falling all over him.
I clenched my jaw and swallowed down the acid bubbling in my throat, something that immediately happened any time he was close. I’d assumed he’d be here, but I had hoped not to see him, or at the very least, not see him until Dean was here. Not that I needed a boy to protect me or anything like that, but because Dean made me feel like the best version of myself. Stronger. Untouchable.
Sure, I’d kneed Brandon in the junk to get away, but lately…the strength I’d gained from both the blog and Dean’s confidence in me? I felt like I could lay him out flat like an NFL player if he came two inches too close.
That was a milestone, something I almost wanted to celebrate when a few months ago the mere memory of what happened had turned me into a quivering, weak girl who locked up when anyone got too close.
I tore my gaze from him and Sabrina, for a moment worrying about her. Would he do the same to her? Or had she already consensually given him everything, so there was nothing left for him to demand? To fight over? To take without regard.
She looked happy by his side, not scared.
I stood from the couch, and in an attempt to outrun the sound of Brandon’s voice, I wandered to Jake’s room. Once I sealed myself inside, I sank onto his bed and fished out my cell.
Still no news from Dean.
I scolded myself for checking so much and decided to distract myself with the site. I had over one hundred unread comments to scroll through. Getting lost in them would be better than checking my cell every five seconds for word from my boyfriend.
The word sent chills up my spin, an ache low in my belly.
Damn that boy. I’d been so sure I wouldn’t want a relationship until I was well into my college career. So sure in my determination that none could be trusted.
But he’d changed that.
My cheeks flushed hot with all the thoughts of just how deep my feelings ran for him, of how we’d been living in a slow burn I was ready to turn to full blast, and I was quickly shifting my position off Jake’s bed and instead sliding into his computer chair. I spun around, fanning myself as I logged into the blog from my phone.
It only took a few minutes and I was drowning in comments and questions. Some accusations from outraged parents. Some commendations from others. A whirlwind of opinion and emotion and with each one, the weight on my chest increased.
Ignoring the hate mail, I focused on the real students with real questions. The ones actually seeking the help I wanted to give. Questions like what to do if you weren’t feeling that spark when you kissed your partner anymore, or what to do if sex was painful despite mentally being into it, or what to do if your partner was more experienced than you.
Some were much more graphic than others. One made my cheeks burn hotter than ever when someone asked about the taste of a certain bodily fluid—
“What are you reading?” Brandon’s voice practically shook the room as he snatched my cell out of my hand.
I jolted, having been so engrossed I didn’t hear him come into the room. I spun around, darting out of the chair, only to freeze when I looked behind him.
The door was closed.
And locked.
Ice-cold fear snaked through my veins, rooting me to the spot. The air thick, I choked on my words as I glared at him. His eyes were wide, his jaw nearly unhinged as he scrolled on my screen. The private questions section that only the creator of the blog would be able to see—the ones not yet chosen to make public.
“Wait,” he said, the word sliding off his tongue on a slant. He glanced at me. “You’re Ask Me Anything?” A dark, greedy laugh tumbled from his lips as he returned to reading what was meant for my eyes only.
Realization rocketed through me—once again his eyes and hands were where they didn’t belong.
And he didn’t give a shit.
“Fucking hell, Amber,” he said, that sly grin shaping his lips. He tossed the cell at me so fast I almost didn’t catch it.
My fingers flew, signing out from the blog before securing my cell in my back pocket.
“If you knew all this stuff,” he said, stalking toward where I still stood, my feet frozen but adrenaline shaking my muscles, “then why the hell didn’t we do more?”
I hissed.
I literally hissed at him like an angry cat when he stepped entirely too close.
He towered above me, his eyes hooded as he looked down at me. “We could’ve practiced all these things. I could’ve taught you so, so much more.” Reaching out, he trailed a finger down my arm. Despite having a long-sleeved T-shirt on, I felt it like an ice-cube to my skin. “We still can.” He smiled. “I’ve missed you.”
I jerked away from his touch, backing up so much I ran right into Jake’s desk. I gripped the edge, the air in my lungs tight.
“Come on,” he said, his head tilted to the side. “Tell me you haven’t missed me.”
“I haven’t,” I snapped, and thanked God my voice had returned.
He rolled his eyes. “You have. We used to have so much fun, the four of us. You and me. Jake and Hannah. We could all be a group again—”
“Not a chance in hell,” I said, gaping at him.
“Aw, Amber. Don’t be like that.” He leaned in closer, and I immediately tried to walk around him. His massive arm on one side of the desk stopped me. “We obviously went wrong somewhere. If you know all you do…the blog…hell, why did you dump me?”
I raised my brows. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He smirked. “I love it when you drop the F-bomb.”
“Ugh, gross,” I said, trying to move again. He blocked me with his other arm. A cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck, my stomach rolling. Flashes of that night burst in my head, my body screaming at me to run or punch him in the throat. “You need to let me leave. Now.”
“Damn it, Amber. Why can’t you just listen to me?” he whined. “I’m trying to talk to you. I miss you. I want to get back together.” He pursed his lips in a pout. “I could help you with your site. Work out scenarios you don’t know about.”
I cringed, my legs wobbling, the breath shallow as I tried to suck it down in gulps. His scent was everywhere—sweat and beer and some kind of overkill body spray.
“We’re done, Brandon. We’ve been done,” I said, hating that my voice shook. “Now back up.”
“No,” he said. “Not until you tell me why.”
I gaped at him. “You know why.”
“I really don’t,” he snapped. “Especially now that I know you’ve messed around before me. You have to know all that shit you post on the blog. And yet you’ve made me feel like an asshole all these months because, what? You just weren’t in the mood that night?”
Tears burned the back of my eyes I was so angry. “No,” I said. “I…I don’t have to explain myself to you. You wouldn’t listen when I said no.”
“You were my girlfriend,” he said, his tone sharper. “You weren’t supposed to say no to me. Besides,” he said, shrugging, “everyone knows girls say no just to play hard to get for a few minutes before that no turns into a yes.”
In that moment, as his words sank into my brain, I felt not only my fear, my pain, but the pain of so many others before me. The ones whose faces I didn’t know, but whose souls I could feel. The ones who were made to believe they were in the wrong—wore the wrong outfit, drank a little too much, trusted the wrong friend to take them home. Boys and girls alike.
Something deep inside me grew and screamed—no, roared.
I clenched my hands into fists, barely moving my lips my jaw was clenched so hard. “Let me go,” I said, glaring at him.
“No,” he said. “You owe me this. I deserve to know why you’ve apparently said yes to a shit-ton of other people but
said no to me.”
“Like that matters?” Not that it was true, but fuck. “Because I have experience means I have to say yes to you whenever you feel like it? Like I’m some piece of fucking property?” I scoffed, shaking my head. “You’re delusional, Brandon. And legit effed in the head.” I cut my eyes to where his arms still caged me. “Move. Now.”
“You’re the one who’s messed up,” he said, sneering down at me. “You hide behind this blog. This poor excuse to validate that you’re just a big slut.”
I laughed darkly.
“You’re damaged,” he said. “No wonder no one else wanted to be with you.” A devious smile shaped his lips. “And now everyone is going to know the real you. Once I tell them all who you are.”
My spine stiffened, but I cocked a brow at him. “I fucking dare you, Brandon,” I snapped, stretching myself to be bigger, taller, wishing like hell I could match his strength and shove him out of the way. “You mutter one word, one whisper, and the next post will be complete with all those dick pics you texted me.”
He flinched. “You wouldn’t. You said you deleted them.”
“Did I?”
I had. Instantly. But he didn’t have to know that.
Something like fear flashed over his glazed eyes.
“More than that,” I continued, drawing on his one moment of weakness, “if I hear you’ve hurt someone else…like you did me? I’ll steal every record you’ve ever had and mar it. I’ll own your bank account and keep draining it to zero. Hell,” I said. “Maybe I’ll even sneak into UMass’s servers and turn whatever grants they awarded you into an actual rejection for admittance.”
“You can’t do that,” he said, but his voice was a whisper.
“You don’t really believe that, do you?” I folded my arms over my chest, holding my ground.
A blink and he gripped my shoulders too tightly. I tried to move, but he held me locked. “Don’t you fuck with me, Amber,” he snapped. “I mean it.”
“Or what?” I trembled in his grasp, struggling to free myself. The adrenaline rushing my veins was no match for his strength, but my threats were nearly as strong. “Keep touching me and see what happens. I won’t stop at where I said. I’ll ruin you, Brandon.”