by Linda Kage
“Bailey Prescott.”
Holy shit, they were talking about me. And why had she said Bailey Prescott as if she were tasting something nasty?
Shaking her head, the second girl dumbly said, “Who’s Bailey Prescott?”
“You know, that cray-cray rainbow-haired chunk who sits behind us in American History class with that mute redheaded friend of hers.”
“What?! That mouthy opinionated fat cow got him free?”
Say whaaaaaat?
Had they just called me—I stepped forward, but Tess grabbed my arm and dug her fingers in, forcing me not to react or intercede.
“Oh my God, how could they let her even testify on his behalf?”
Excuse me?
My back straightened as shock pierced through every organ of my body. Were mouthy, opinionated fat cows not even allowed to go to the police with evidence to help an investigation now?
“You just know she lied for him, probably because she had a crush on him or something, thinking he’d give her the time of day if she saved him.”
What. The. Hell?
Tess tried to drag me away, but I was rooted to the spot, determined to listen to what else these two girls had to say about me.
Girl one was shaking her head sadly. “It’s so pathetic when ugly girls don’t even care if a guy is a sexist rapist asshole, but they still lie for him anyway just to get a little attention.”
I was ugly?
I mean, I’d always known I’d never be a skin and bones Miss Universe, but I’d never considered myself flat-out ugly before.
Ugly felt so extreme.
But apparently, I was mouthy, opinionated, fat, pathetic, and ugly too boot.
Holy shit.
“Well, she’s always been an attention whore, so it’s really not that shocking if you think about it.” Girl Two was twining a piece of dark hair around her finger, and I suddenly wanted to leap forward and just grab it and pull…pull so hard it ripped the roots from her pretty little skinny-headed scalp.
This time, when Tess yanked on my arm, I let her drag me away. I stared sightlessly ahead as she towed me across campus. It didn’t occur to me that she wasn’t leading me to our next class together but rather out into the parking lot where my car was until she was digging into my book bag hanging limping from my shoulder for my keys.
Then she pushed me into the passenger seat and hurried around to the driver’s side herself. The car started, and she backed from the parking spot.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said, filling the silence so abruptly that I jumped. I looked across the interior of the car to find tears glittering in her eyes.
I shook my head. “What’re you sorry for?” And why the hell was she crying?
“I didn’t…” She paused to choke on her words, before wiping tears off her cheeks with her fingertips and continuing. “I didn’t stand up for you. I didn’t…I didn’t defend you to those stupid…those stupid bitches.”
My eyebrows arched. Tess never called anyone a bitch. She really was upset.
Still too numb by what I’d just heard to share her distress, I shrugged. “I would never expect you to.” That’s not who she was. Tess was a bleeding-heart pacifist who avoided confrontations and bringing any kind of attention to herself. Just because she hadn’t made a spectacle on my behalf just now didn’t mean I thought she loved me any less. The only thing I was assured of at the moment was that Tess still loved me.
With a sniff, she glanced at me and wiped her face again. “But you would’ve stood up for me. You would’ve said something to them and put them in their place for hurting me. You would’ve—”
“That’s just because I’m an attention whore,” I cut in bitterly before turning my gaze sharply to stare out the side window. “All us crazy pathetic, mouthy, opinioned fat cows are, you know.”
“Arg.” Tess gritted her teeth as she turned a corner before hissing a stream of curse words. My eyebrows lifted, kind of impressed by her litany. It was rare—beyond rare—when Tess cussed, but she was dropping f-bombs like a pro right now. Finally, she glanced at me, her eyes shot through with anger as she pulled onto our street. “You are none of those things, Bailey, do you hear me? Those vile slugs don’t know you. They don’t—”
“You don’t have to defend me to me, Tess. I know I’m not perfect.”
“Well, I know you’re not perfect too,” Tess snapped as she pulled to a stop at the curb in front of our house and turned to face me fully. “I know you better than anyone. You’re brash and impetuous with no filter whatsoever. Whatever you’re thinking spills from your mouth, and you stick your nose where it doesn’t belong more often than not. You can drive me crazy with your smart-alecky wisecracks and snap judgements. And you—”
“Gee, you’re making me feel like a paragon of perfection right now, bestie,” I muttered, glancing away and blinking rapidly because listening to her list my faults stung a million times worse than knowing those two jerks from campus thought I was an ugly fat cow.
But Tess gripped my arm with force yet compassion, making me glance at her. Her smile was watery but genuine when she said, “But you’re the most loyal friend a person could ever have. You protect those in your tribe whole-heartedly. You’d sacrifice your own happiness to make sure one of your people was content. And you’ve been known to make me laugh until I’ve shot milk from my nose.”
I cracked a smile at that one and nudged my elbow at her. “And it was strawberry milk at that.”
Tess groaned and dabbed gingerly at her nose, even though that particular event had happened back when we’d been eight. “Yeah, I think the strawberry aspect made it sting more.”
My shoulders loosened and I couldn’t help but drop some of the depression that had been gripping me. How did Tess always make my heart happy just by being herself? I guess that was what made her a true friend. Merely being in her company and having her attention eased my soul.
But thinking of the word attention made me remember the term attention whore those girls had called me. Had I been so lonely lately, upset with all Tess’s time with Jonah, because I really was a dirty, hog of an attention whore? I glanced at her, feeling like a shitty awful friend for wanting more of her lately. I should’ve been truly, deep-in-my-heart happy for her because she had more people to love her, not jealous. Ugh, I really was the worst.
Mood plummeting once again, I smiled sadly and reached out to pat her arm. “Thank you for being with me today. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through that scene without you there.”
Tess’s eyes bugged as she stared at my hand until I felt the need to pull away.
Okay, so maybe I wasn’t a touchy-feely person. I didn’t hug or comfort or receive affection or any of that emotional shit. It probably was really strange that I reached for her.
Maybe I was losing my mind.
“I think I’m going to go do some homework in my room,” I said, needing a break from life. “Thank Jonah for letting me hog you so much today.”
“Bailey,” Tess said, looking shocked by my words. “You didn’t hog me. Hey! Don’t leave. Seriously, sweetie, what is going on with you? Something is wrong. And I know it’s not just those stupid girls from school. You didn’t even let Chrissy Jackson and her band of shrews get to you sophomore year when they decided to bully you.”
Actually, they had gotten to me. Deep in my core, they’d made me believe I was worthless and would never find true love or be successful or gain a friend outside Tess. I’d just refused to let those wounds show. I’d buckled down and turned sassier than ever to show them they couldn’t touch my spirit, though they’d actually shattered it.
But Tess was right. The girls on campus today would’ve normally turned me even mouthier than usual. No, this was, I don’t even know. I wasn’t sure if I could attribute the mood to the cowboy either. To be sadly honest, I think it had originated from the night I’d seen Beckett Hilliard make Melody Fairfield come like a heifer being slaughtered on an alter
to the sex gods.
He hadn’t even looked like he’d done much of anything for her, but she’d seemed to like it so much. She’d gone ugly crazy with lust. It didn’t seem right. Why had it hurt and felt so uncomfortable for me the one time I’d tried it, yet she’d had the best orgasm of her life?
I knew Tess and Paige liked sex. Their men treated them good and cherished my two friends. But I had always kind of thought the fact that they were so in love had kind of blinded them to how good it really wasn’t.
But then Melody the skanky whore Fairfield had come along and proved to me that love had nothing to do with a good orgasm. And I felt broken inside.
Maybe I just wasn’t meant to be a sexual being. I mean, I certainly didn’t have a magazine-cover-worthy provocative shape to lure a man in. I didn’t flirt well, or at all. And I, well, I don’t know but it sucked to realize I didn’t have any of that and probably never would.
It was like I’d been slapped with a hard dose of reality that I’d be alone and lonely for the rest of my life for a reason; because I was just that lacking. No sex, no companionship, no anything seemed to lurk in my future. And it scared me. I felt worthless. And alone.
Doomed to wander the earth this way for all eternity.
But I looked at Tess dead in the eye, and I couldn’t tell her that, none of it. She’d just shrug it off and say, “You’re not worthless.” Then maybe she’d get offended because she wouldn’t think our friendship was helping me feel loved enough, or something like that, when that wasn’t it at all. I just…it was something inside—something about who I was—that felt broken. And I think only I could fix it.
Except I didn’t know how.
Maybe it wasn’t even fixable. Maybe I was just destined to be sexually defunct and relationship-dead for the rest of my life.
“I think this whole rape case still has me wigging out,” I said instead. Hey, it was kind of true. I wasn’t sure what had happened to Beckett. I doubt he was at the fraternity now. Should I still try to look him up? The first time had gone wrong enough that I almost didn’t want to take the chance again. But a niggle at my conscience told me to find him. “I think I’m going to go to my room and find out where Beck is.”
Tess immediately nodded, her big blue eyes still worried though. “Want me to help?”
I smiled gratefully but shook my head. “No. Go cuddle with your man. I really do feel bad about taking you away from him today.”
“Bailey,” she groaned. “You did not take me away from him. He knows you need some extra attention lately. It’s fine. Don’t—”
“Well, I’m fine,” I reassured her. “So stop worrying so much about me. I’ll see you at supper. You’re cooking tonight, right?”
She nodded mutely, so I grinned and said, “Great.” Then I pushed open the car door and hurried up to our apartment alone.
Once in my room, I settled myself comfortably on my bed and pulled my computer onto my lap. But Beckett Hilliard wasn’t even in the Granton University student directory anymore. And when I logged onto Facebook to find his account—which hadn’t been hard since all the dirty nasty memes against him had been linked to his name—it had been deleted.
“Dammit,” I muttered, wondering where he was.
All the google searches only went to articles about the rape and his being set free. After scrolling through about twenty pages of that, I gave up with a groan and slapped my laptop closed before falling onto my back and staring up at the ceiling.
But when I did that, I only remembered what Beckett had looked like when he’d come, his mouth gasping open and his eyes wide with shock as he lay in this very position and stared at the ceiling of that fraternity room.
Then I remembered the disgust in Chance Fairfield’s eyes when he’d called me a lying bitch and spat in my face.
I shuddered and sat up. I wanted to find another human—preferably Tess or Paige—be in their company, and not feel so alone. But I was too worried it’d only make me feel more worthless about myself, so I decided to do some homework.
That lasted for a couple hours before it felt like my brain was mush from studying so long. I slapped my Electronic devices and Circuits textbook shut and crawled off my bed, realizing evening was falling and I’d missed lunch. That never happened. Like ever. I loved food too much.
And now I was worried about myself. I really was in a strange funk. I’d already been wondering while I’d been studying all afternoon which color I wanted to make my hair next.
Shaking my head, I decided I was going to make a huge, raving snack and veg out in front of another eighties movie. I’d have to pull out the big guns this time and put on Princess Bride I think. Yes, definitely, that’s what I was going to watch.
But I didn’t even make it ten steps out of my door when it happened.
I was approaching Paige and Logan’s room to pass by their door when I heard giggling from inside. The door was eighty percent shut but open enough to let the sound out clearly.
And then I heard Paige say, “Logan, shhh…” in a reprimanding voice as I passed. “What if Bailey hears?”
I slowed to a stop. But then hurried back in to gear, afraid I’d be caught “hearing” them.
I knew—I knew oh-so very logically—that Paige didn’t mean anything bad by what she said. She hadn’t suggested I was a dirty, rotten voyeur or that I was purposefully out and about trying to creep in on her with her man, like all I did these days was spy on other couples having sex. Hell, for all I knew, she was trying to be considerate of my feelings because she knew I’d had a rough day and worried I’d feel worse after hearing two people being happy together and laughing.
But it still stung. Oh damn, how it stung.
I suddenly didn’t feel welcome anywhere in the world.
After all the ugly, fat cow talk, I was just too tender to take any more. Throat burning and eyes watering, I hurried into the front room until I hit the stairwell. Then I grabbed my coat off the hook as I passed and rushed down to the front door. Not even my room would provide a very good sanctuary right now. I’d only be able to hear their muffled talk more clearly through the cold lonely wall.
Thinking about the park bench across the street that I never saw anyone sitting at, I shoved my way outside with a good bit of force, wanting to be all the way removed from the apartment before I really burst forth and started shedding tears.
But a big black mass of something standing on the steps with its arm raised as if to knock blocked my path.
I shrieked but still didn’t stop in time to keep from plowing into it.
“What the…?” He tried to grab my arms to steady me, I think, but he didn’t have any kind of solid footing himself to be steadying anyone.
So we both went tumbling down, me on top, and him landing on the cold hard, solid ground.
“Holy fuck,” I groaned, feeling dazed, even though I’d had a cushiony person to land on, though he wasn’t really all that cushiony. He was a bit too hard and muscled to provide any kind of soft-padded landing. I felt jarred right down to my teeth.
Moaning, I sat up and crawled off him just as he seemed to get his wind back and let out his own chuff of pain.
Since the day had worn down to evening, and the sky was gray and muggy, I didn’t see him in crisp, bright detail. But I still knew who he was.
He wore a black hoodie with the three bright white Greek letters stretching across his chest and a ball cap over his head. His face was covered in bruises, ranging from green, dying older ones to a couple fresh deep purples beauties. He looked basically nothing like he had the one night I’d met him, and yet I still recognized him immediately. I grabbed his arm to make sure he hadn’t passed out on me, and he opened his eyes. They were still just as startling blue as they’d been before.
An instant moment of relief filled me. He was okay—well alive anyway. He was free, and out of jail, and now I could stop worrying about where he was or what he was doing. Except with that relief came a spot of irr
itation. I didn’t know this guy from Adam, why the hell had he inspired any kind of worry in me in the first place?
So I let out a groan and shook my head. “Jesus Christ, Bucket. You sure have a bad habit of loitering in doorways when I’m in a hurry to get through them, don’t you?”
Chapter 14
BECKETT
Fuck, I think I just broke one of my bruised ribs. For the longest second, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move past the pain. I could just lay on the cold, hard ground, hugging myself.
The weight on top of me shifted and scurried off, the girl babbling something that totally didn’t penetrate the agony surrounding my synapses. No idea what she said.
Then small fingers gripped my arm with a firm, sturdy pressure, and I cracked my eyes open wide enough for her entire face to flood my field of vision as she leaned down to get a look at me. She said something else that didn’t get through before she leaned in closer and said loudly enough for me to finally hear, “Holy shit, are you okay?”
“Fine,” I gasped, still clutching my ribs. Yeah, I was just dandy. Or I would be in a couple years, possibly decades.
“Well, you look like hell.” She tightened her grip and tugged me upright into a sitting position. The blood rushed from my brain, causing sharp daggers to pierce my temples.
I whimpered and wavered until the ache dulled enough for me to function. “Yeah, well I wouldn’t recommend jail for any kind of beauty regimen retreat, that’s for damn sure.”
The girl laughed, making me focus on her looks for the first time. She was a cute thing, with a round face and cheeks that had probably gotten pinched and smooshed a lot when she was young. Her eyes were big and smoky gray with these long-ass lashes that swept gracefully over them and briefly brushed the tops of her cheeks before she opened her eyes again. Her hair was shoulder-length, blonde and curly, the fun bobbing, kinky kind of curls that always made me want to play with them.
I realized I was staring when she shook her head with a baffled kind of frown, glanced around us and asked, “What’re you doing here?”