by Naomi Martin
A greasy, slick feeling starts churning in my stomach and I’m suddenly sure I’m about to throw up. I take a drink of my soda, doing my best to stave off the sick feeling inside of me and to remain calm.
“I think you’d better explain,” I tell her.
She sighs again. “After you turned us down, Donovan was still fired up about the idea of a threesome. And as we were heading back to the rooms, we ran into Owen,” she says. “Donovan paid him a thousand dollars to find him a girl willing to join us and bring her to our room. That’s why he was coming out when you ran into him.”
I sit back and feel my head spinning. Had I really misjudged the entire situation? Had I really misjudged Owen that badly? I tug on my hair viciously as my thoughts whirl and my stomach churns harder as the question I should be asking finally crosses my mind – have my own insecurities and fears cost me something that could have been great?
“Are you serious, Winter?” I peer directly into her eyes. “You’re not just covering for him, are you?”
She scoffs. “Do you really think I’d cover for any of those cretins? I’d be the first to tell you if any one of them – Asher, Owen, or Samuel – was a lying, cheating asshole. Believe me, nothing would bring me more joy than to ruin their lives.”
That much I can believe. There’s always been an undercurrent of tension that’s woven through all their relationships. I don’t know where it came from or why it is, but although they all get along on the surface, it wouldn’t take much for any one of them to bury a knife in the back of the others. And yet, they claim to be friends. It’s mind-boggling to me.
“Oh my God, what have I done?” I moan.
“Well, you banged Asher in the front seat of his truck, if I heard correctly.” She giggles.
“Shut up.” My tone is grim, rueful, and full of self-reproach.
“Did you really slap him around, though?” she wonders. “Because if you did, you’re a hell of a lot kinkier than I ever gave you credit for, babe. I mean, I never would have thought of you as the dominatrix type.”
“Oh my God, shut up,” I cry.
I shake my head in disbelief but can’t keep myself from giggling along with her. This is all so absurd, laughing is about the only thing I can do about it right now.
“I’m so not a dominatrix,” I inform her.
“Oh, judging by what I heard, all you need is some thigh-high leather boots and a whip.”
“Lies,” I say. “All lies.”
She grins at me. “Judging by just how red your cheeks are and the fact that you can’t look me in the eye, I’m going to say those actually aren’t lies,” she points out. “I’m going to go further and say that Asher didn’t even exaggerate, for a change.”
“It just happened,” I finally admit. “I was hurt and I was angry so I just wanted to–”
“You just wanted to punish a naughty, naughty boy.” Olivia laughs. “Which is what a dominatrix does, by the way.”
I howl with laughter until my sides hurt but can’t seem to stop myself. I’m laughing harder than the situation warrants, but Olivia laughs along with me. It’s not that any of this is all that funny, it’s just the release of all the tension that’s been pent up in me for days now feels good. It takes a good couple of minutes before I finally manage to calm myself down enough to be coherent again. And as I come down, the grim reality of the situation settles over me. I look up at Olivia, a trembling smile on my lips.
“How pissed is Owen?” I ask.
“I think he’s more hurt that you think he’d cheat on you than anything,” she tells me. “But fucking Asher didn’t help the situation any.”
“Right,” I say. “Fantastic.”
She takes my hand in hers. “That boy really likes you,” she assures me. “I’m sure you two will be able to find a way to work through this and then move past it.”
Her tone is hopeful, but there is a strange gleam in her eye I can’t quite interpret. While I’m not sure what it is, I suddenly feel uneasy. I push it all aside, though, figuring it’s just my guilt and all the bad feelings I have about what I did rising to the surface, since I know the only way to get past this is to go through it. Which means I’m going to have to talk to Owen and see if he’ll forgive me.
God, this is going to suck.
I give Olivia a tight smile. “I hope you’re right,” I say. “I really do.”
Chapter Fifteen
I’m standing with Bonnie in a large room, with stark white walls on all sides of us. And on those stark white walls are the works of a master. I step up to the red velvet rope that denotes how close we are allowed to get to these masterpieces – about three feet away from them. Which sucks. I understand why they have the boundary, but being so far away, it’s easy to miss some of the finer details of the works.
After Olivia had come by and talked to me the other day, I knew I had some housecleaning to do. There were definitely some things I needed to set right – the first of which was to patch things up with Bonnie. The rift in our relationship had been a constant nagging ache within me and I wanted to repair it. And I figured the best way to do that was to make our long-awaited trip to the Caravaggio exhibit.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathe. “The Incredulity of St. Thomas has always been one of my favorites. The play between light and shadow – it just gives it such a lifelike quality.”
Bonnie nods but remains quiet. The wall of ice between us hasn’t come close to thawing yet, and she doesn’t seem too inclined to speed the process along. A truce has settled between us, but it feels more fragile than a peace treaty brokered in the Middle East.
We stroll through the gallery, taking in the paintings on display. Our dialogue is minimal, and everything is kept on the surface. The tension is thicker than the fog in San Francisco and is completely suffocating. I’ve tried to open up the conversation; I’ve tried joking with her and acting as if things are normal. She’s not having it, though.
We spend a good deal of time in the Caravaggio exhibit but eventually move on to the rest of the museum. By the time we complete our tour and are headed home, I’m ready to bust. My frustration with Bonnie is off the charts and my patience is wearing dangerously thin. I can feel the confrontation coming, so I do what I can to tamp it down and take some of the heat out of it.
I pull the car to a stop in my driveway and shut the engine off. We sit there in silence for another long moment, neither of us willing to speak but neither of us willing to get out of the car, either. It’s as if the weight of the words that aren’t being spoken is pressing us both down, preventing either of us from moving. I sigh and tug on the ends of my hair, knowing I’m going to have to be the one who breaks the ice. Again.
“So, is this is the way it’s going to be, Bonnie?”
“You tell me,” she fires back. “Or do you need to check with Olivia first?”
I round on her, my blood boiling. “Why do you have to be like that?” I snap. “Why do you have to make me feel like I’m being disloyal to you just by being friends with Olivia?”
She opens her mouth to argue and I get the sense that she’s about to say because I am being disloyal to her – which would be the absolute wrong thing for her to say. And she seems to realize it because she shuts her mouth again, staring out the passenger side window with a petulant scowl on her face.
“I thought we already went over this, Bonnie. I thought we agreed that it’s no more wrong for me to have other friends than it is for you to have other friends,” I remind her.
She lets out a long breath, steaming up the window next to her. She sniffs quietly and scrubs at her eyes.
“It’s just different,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t explain it and you probably won’t understand it anyway, but it’s just different.”
“Try me,” I press her. “Explain to me how it’s different.”
“It just is.”
I know how she thinks it’s different, but she’s refusing to
say it. Likely because she knows how petty and childish it will make her sound.
“Is it because Olivia is one of the more popular girls in school and your friends aren’t?” I ask carefully. “Do you resent me for that, Bonnie?”
She refuses to look at me, suggesting to me that I’m right – she does resent me for having friends in the more popular social circles at school.
“That’s not fair, Bonnie,” I tell her. “I didn’t go out of my way to make Olivia like me. I didn’t ask her to be my friend. It just happened.”
She remains silent and unmoving, not looking at me, and I’m not even sure at this point that she’s breathing. I just sit there and stare at her, waiting for her to say something. To say anything. And with every passing moment where she refuses to speak, I feel my anger growing hotter and darker. She’s behaving like a spoiled child, and it’s pissing me off.
“You certainly didn’t reject her when she wanted to be your friend, either,” Bonnie growls.
“Seriously, Bonnie? I’m new here. Other than you, I had no friends. I didn’t know anybody but you,” I counter. “Was I just supposed to ignore her when she started talking to me in class? Are you penalizing me for not knowing the politics around friendships at this fucking school?”
She finally looks over at me. Her eyes are red and puffy, and her cheeks are splotched with pink. Eyes shimmering with unshed tears, Bonnie has the expression of a girl who’s completely lost and alone. It makes me feel badly for her, but seriously, what does she expect from me?
“What hurts me is that you can still be friends with them even after I told you what they did to me,” she confesses, her voice tinged with pain.
I sigh and bite back the scathing reply that’s on the tip of my tongue. Lashing out isn’t going to make things any easier or any better right now. But I also think it’s time for me to be frank with Bonnie. I’m not doing her any favors by letting her go on believing these conspiracy theories she’s got bouncing around in her head.
“Look, I know you feel persecuted by the popular clique,” I begin. “But I think a lot of that is in your head, Bonnie.”
Her face darkens with rage. “In my head? Having everybody in the school laughing at me while I’m being violated is all just in my head?”
“That’s not what I’m saying–”
“Then what are you saying?”
I count to five in my head, letting out a long breath as I do so. “I’m saying that what Asher did was horrible. There’s no excuse for it,” I add. “But you blame Olivia. You blame Owen. You blame everybody – some of them, as I understand it, weren’t even at the party where all this happened.”
“They’re part of the problem, Winter.”
“How are they part of the problem if they weren’t even there?” I press. “It seems to me that you are punishing some people simply for the fact that they’re friends with Asher.”
“Why are you defending them so hard?”
“I’m not defending them. I’m simply pointing out facts,” I fire back. “You’re a logical person, Bonnie. You deal in facts. Try applying that to yourself and your behavior.”
She glares at me with an expression of pure outrage on her face. The air in the car is growing thicker with tension as our tempers rise. It feels like the inside of the vehicle is getting smaller and more confined. It’s making me feel stuffy and suffocated so I roll down a window, letting a fresh draft of cool air flow in.
“I can’t believe you’d side with them, Winter.”
“I’m not siding with anybody,” I almost scream. “I’m just asking you to look at the facts and to be fair. I’m asking you to admit that you’re painting them all with a really broad brush.”
“So, you think what happened to me is okay. It’s just something I need to get over and deal with. Put on a happy face and tell them it’s okay to violate me that way, right? That’s what you’re saying here?”
I grit my teeth and shut my eyes tightly, doing my best to keep from screaming. I can’t tell if she’s being deliberately obtuse about this. It’s clear she has her prejudices and she’s sticking with them, so if I’m going to get through to her, I’m going to need to try another tack. It’s time to put all of this shit to bed, once and for all.
“That’s not what I’m saying and you damn well know it, Bonnie,” I snap. “Let’s talk about the real issue.”
“And what’s the real issue?”
I shift in my seat, turning to face her. “You hate the fact that I’m friends with Olivia. And that I’m seeing Owen.”
“Oh, you are? Last I heard, you were fucking Asher now,” She spits, her voice filled with venom. “It’s so hard to keep track anymore, with you getting around so quickly and so often. Really, it seems like you’re willing to fuck anybody who will improve your popularity on campus.”
I rock back in my seat as if she’s just delivered a physical slap to my face. My eyes well with tears and my heart lurches at the sheer hatred I hear in her voice. The way she’s glaring at me certainly underscores her words and, for a moment, I’m at a loss.
But then my own anger starts to rise. I’ve held my tongue and walked on eggshells around Bonnie for long enough. I haven’t wanted to make her feel bad about herself or inflame her insecurities and so I’ve said nothing when, maybe, I should have put her in check.
“You know what, Bonnie? I’m sick of you sitting there all high and fucking mighty,” I hiss. “I’m sick of you passing judgment on everybody around you. Most of all on me. You think you’re better than me or something?”
“Well, I certainly don’t fuck anything that moves.”
“That’s because nobody will have you, Bonnie,” I say coldly. “You’re such a frigid bitch to everybody, nobody wants to have anything to do with you.”
Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open as she stares at me. The shock of me speaking to her like this etched upon her face. And now that the dam of restraint inside of me has broken, I can’t stop everything from flowing out.
“Maybe if you were a little bit nicer to people, you’d have some friends. Maybe, you’d even have a boyfriend,” I press. “But you’re so busy judging and condemning people, you’re so busy making sure everybody knows just how morally superior you are to all the rest of us, that everybody thinks you’re a fucking bitch and avoids you like the fucking plague.”
Her mouth opens and closes like she’s trying to speak but can’t get the words to come out, giving her the appearance of a fish out of water. Before she can find her voice again, I strike with the hardest blow I can think of – if she’s going to hurt me, I’m going to hurt her even worse.
“And I know why you’re so upset about me being friends with Olivia and the popular clique,” I snarl, expertly plucking the strings of her insecurities. “It’s because you’re fucking jealous that you’ll never be invited to be part of it. You’re so fucking jealous you can’t breathe, Bonnie.”
The tears roll down her cheeks and she looks absolutely heartbroken as she stares at me. I expect her to yell. To scream at me. But she surprises me when she fumbles with the handle for a moment before she’s finally able to get the door open. Bonnie stumbles out of the car, not bothering to close the door behind her as she dashes down the driveway and disappears behind the tall row of bushes, leaving me alone in the car with the echo of my own hateful words still ringing in my ears.
The tears roll down my face as I lean my forehead on the steering wheel. Sobbing wildly, I beat my fists against it, beyond frustrated and heartbroken. She had a part to play in this fiasco, but I already want to take back the horrible things I said to Bonnie. I know I can’t, though. I said what I said – I can’t unring that bell. And I don’t know that I’ll ever convince Bonnie to forgive me.
Chapter Sixteen
When he walks in through the front doors, my heart immediately begins to beat a staccato rhythm in my chest and my stomach roils. With my hands shaking so hard, I nearly drop the oversized ceramic coffee mug I’m
holding. But I somehow manage to hold onto it and finish the drink I’m making, sending the girl at the counter off with a shaky, nauseous looking smile.
As Owen approaches the till, I stand up straighter, trying to gather myself and steel my nerves. I’ve been mentally preparing for this for a few days now, and know I need to make things right with him. Or, at least, as right as I can. After how spectacularly I failed at mending fences with Bonnie, I’m suddenly lacking confidence and am half-convinced that I’m only going to make things with Owen worse. A lot worse.
And then he’s standing in front of me, a small, sad smile on his face. My mouth is suddenly as dry as the Sahara and that churning in my belly is only growing more intense. Swallowing down the taste of bile in the back of my throat, I give him the best smile I can manage and just hope it doesn’t look as awkwardly stupid as it feels.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi. Thanks for coming,” I reply quickly – too quickly. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Sure.” He looks around. “You said you wanted to talk?”
I nod and glance at my phone. “I have a break coming up in a few. Can you maybe stick around, and we can go talk?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
His tone is cold, but I’m taking his willingness to accommodate my schedule as a good sign. I give him a smile that feels slightly less awkward and offer to make him a drink while he waits but he declines. Owen takes a seat at a table and I go into the back to finish washing a few things – something I could have done when I come back from my break, but honestly, I just needed to give myself a second to breathe and collect myself.
I don’t know what I’m going to say to him. I mean, how do I come back from accusing him of cheating on me – in a very public way? I know I embarrassed him and acted like an immature child with a broken heart rather than handling it like an adult and having a conversation in private. Still struggling to figure out how to fix this mess, I finish up what I’m doing and then, on the spur of the moment, decide to grab a couple cups of hot cocoa.