Lead Me Not

by A. Meredith Walters

  Not yet.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked, and I could see her jaw tightening as she became angrier. I wanted her pissed. I wanted her barely able to hold it together. Because I could tell she wanted that.

  She wanted to lose control.

  And I felt it was my mission to give that to her.

  I leaned in, purposefully close, invading her personal space. It was violating and encroaching, but I wanted to see how far I could push it. I dropped my hand to her waist, to the bare skin below the hem of her shirt. I pressed my fingers into the skin, flattening my palms in order to feel the warmth.

  “Don’t ever take your eyes off your drink in here,” I whispered low in her ear. Her eyes, those incredible deep brown eyes, widened.

  She looked up at me, trying to see my face. I ducked my head down, hiding from her penetrating gaze. I knew the lighting would make it difficult for her to see me under the bill of my cap, but I needed to be careful.

  I reached up so that my fingers grasped her chin and turned her to face the other side of the bar. “You see that guy over there with his septum pierced and the bad dye job?” I asked, indicating the guy who had slipped her a roofie not ten minutes ago. He was watching us closely, scowling, clearly not appreciating the way I had ruined his plans for the evening.

  “Y . . . yeah,” she stammered, and I could feel her heartbeat under my thumb. She was nervous, and probably pretty freaked out.

  Good.

  “He put something in your drink. And then he would have waited,” I whispered in her ear. I saw her throat move as she swallowed.

  “He would have waited until you went to the bathroom, or gone outside to get some air, and then he would have followed you. You would have been too spaced out from the drug to put up a fight when he dragged you off behind the building,” I said. She looked truly scared, and I felt sort of bad. But a girl like this didn’t understand the dangers that lurked for her in the shadows.

  “And you would have been unconscious while he did whatever he wanted to you,” I finished, dropping my hand from her waist and moving away. I adjusted my cap and finished the rest of my drink before pushing the glass toward Eric.

  “Guys like that wait all night for an easy mark like you. So if you plan on being here, smarten up. Because there are plenty of predators out there,” I told her, suddenly angry. I wasn’t sure why I was so mad. But all thoughts of possession, of desire, had been erased by an unfamiliar sense of protectiveness.

  The girl frowned and looked at me as closely as she was able to in the dim light. “I remember you. You were the one who helped me find my friend last time.” Then she stepped into my personal space. She violated and encroached. And I was the one who took the step back.

  “What’s your name?” she asked softly, reaching up for my cap, as though she wanted to remove it.

  I grabbed her wrist and pulled it away, holding it down at her side. “You should go home. I told you last time: You don’t belong in a place like this. I think this just proves it. The mouse doesn’t survive long in a room full of cats,” I said.

  I was starting to feel jittery. I needed another fix, and soon. The drugs had started to work their way out of my system, and I felt my organs screaming to hold it in. My blood and bones were hysterical over the loss.

  I was thinking too clearly, and my eyes were too focused. But she made me want to see straight.

  I didn’t understand why. I didn’t like the effect she had.

  It made me angry.

  My night had been consumed by this girl, and there were other things I was supposed to be doing.

  She opened her mouth to speak, and I thought about thrusting my tongue between her red lips.

  Tasting and conquering.

  Making her mouth mine.

  But her words and my desires were cut short.

  “There was a long-ass line at the bathroom. Sorry that took so long.” Her friend returned, and she was momentarily distracted by his appearance. I used that as my chance to disappear into the crowd.

  I left her.

  I tried to forget.

  I tried to resume my night as it had been before I had seen her.

  But there was no forgetting. Some people can burrow their way into your head without you realizing it is even happening.

  And later on, as I beat the shit out of the guy who had slipped her the drugs, I knew she had burrowed deep.

  I just hadn’t decided what I would do if she stayed there.

  chapter

  eight

  aubrey

  “you wanna head over to the commons and grab some dinner?” Renee asked, walking into my bedroom.

  I looked up from my homework in surprise. Was she talking to me? Was this an actual invite to hang out?

  Last weekend at Compulsion had been . . . well . . . interesting.

  It was hard for me to decide whether I had truly enjoyed myself or not. The entire experience had been completely surreal.

  Being there, pretending to be someone I wasn’t, had been liberating in a sense. The need to let go and have fun was a tantalizing temptation, one that for a few moments I had been fully ready to give in to.

  But then I had seen him again, the stranger wearing the baseball cap. He had swooped in and saved the day as though he had been waiting all night for such a moment.

  I had felt like an idiot when he kept me from drinking the drug-laced beer. I prided myself on being hypervigilant when it came to unusual situations. It wasn’t like me to leave my drink unguarded.

  I wasn’t an idiot, but that night I had been all sorts of stupid. I had been reckless and almost endangered myself by my ignorance.

  But mystery man made sure that hadn’t happened.

  I should have been grateful he was there. Instead I had felt supremely irritated that I hadn’t been able to take care of myself, and he had basically mocked me for it.

  I wasn’t the sort of girl who needed rescuing, yet he had done so twice now.

  And I still didn’t know his name or even what he looked like. And I knew that, without a doubt, that was completely intentional.

  When he had touched me, it had been deliberate, as though he was looking for a certain kind of response from me. He knew what he was doing by invading my personal space, and he enjoyed making me uncomfortable.

  But then he had disappeared, and I hadn’t seen him again for the rest of the night.

  I hated to admit that I had spent more time looking for him than I had dancing. I had completely forgotten to look for Renee as well, and it wasn’t until Brooks and I were leaving at two in the morning that I realized I hadn’t seen her all night.

  Brooks had been more than a little drunk, so I had to drive us home. Renee was already home by the time I got back to the apartment. I had seen the light on underneath her door.

  But I had been out of sorts and feeling strangely shaky, so I hadn’t bothered to find out where she had been. And I hadn’t really spoken to her since.

  So her sudden appearance in my bedroom caught me by surprise.

  “What?” I questioned dumbly.

  “We haven’t spent any sort of time together lately. I thought we could . . . you know, get some dinner and then maybe rent a movie. It’s been a while since we’ve watched Dazed and Confused,” she offered, her pale green eyes meeting mine tentatively.

  I knew she was trying. She was reaching out. And I wasn’t one to smack away what she was offering. It hit me hard in that moment how much I missed my best friend. I suddenly needed the open confidences we used to share.

  As much as I loved Brooks, he wasn’t Renee.

  I closed my Counseling Foundations textbook and gave her a smile. “That sounds great,” I said genuinely. Renee seemed relieved that I had accepted her offer so readily. Perhaps I hadn’t been as accessible as I thought I had been. Could it be that the state of our deteriorating friendship didn’t rest entirely on her shoulders? Perhaps my tendency to shut people out had contributed to the emotion
al distance between us.

  I grabbed my purse, and Renee pulled on her black leather jacket. She jammed her hands in her pockets and pulled out a couple of receipts that I had left behind after wearing it on Saturday.

  “Did you borrow my jacket?” she asked me, crumpling the papers and tossing them in the trash.

  “Yeah, on Saturday. Hope it’s okay,” I told her. We had always lived by an open-closet policy since we had moved in together, though perhaps I shouldn’t have taken it without permission, given the current state of our friendship.

  Renee smiled. “It’s okay. You know you’re always welcome to my clothes. Anyway, this jacket always looked better on you than on me,” she said lightly, and any tension we had been feeling lessened slightly.

  “That’s true. I can’t argue with that logic,” I joked, closing our apartment door behind us as we headed down the hallway.

  “Where did you go? I thought you planned on staying home on Saturday,” she said.

  “Brooks and I headed over to Compulsion. I was hoping to see you there, you know, after you suggested it . . . ,” I ventured, trying to open up a dialogue between us. I instantly noticed the tightening of her jaw and the stiffening of her shoulders.

  “We didn’t end up going,” she said finally after a few moments.

  “Why? What did you do?” I asked, not sure she would answer me, whether she would think I was being intrusive and shut me down. I never knew what my questions would be met with anymore. Long gone were the days of easy conversation. Renee Alston carried a lot of secrets now, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever know what they were.

  Renee smoothed down her hair, a gesture that usually indicated she was upset about something. I looked at her closely and was startled to see that she looked almost gaunt. How had I not noticed how much weight she’d been losing in the last few months? Her once-vibrant red hair was now the dull color of rust. Her clothes were baggy and seemed ready to fall off her slight frame.

  She had always been a curvaceous girl. She was a bit on the short side, coming up only to my shoulders, but with an ass and boobs that put mine to shame. And she had always worked what she had. Now it was as though her clothes were swallowing her up. Her shoulders were drooped, and these days her gaze was always trained at the ground.

  “We ended up at a party. Some guy Devon knew,” Renee explained, looking at me out of the corner of her eye, most likely watching for a sign of my well-known disapproval of Devon. But I kept my face blank.

  “Oh, yeah? How was it?” I asked, walking out onto the sidewalk and waiting for Renee to catch up. The air was cold and had been hinting at snow for weeks now, though I had yet to see a flake. The sky was a flat, slate gray, and I for one didn’t miss the sun. I loved the cold.

  I remembered the way Jayme and I would wait impatiently for snow. Even if it was futile, given the lack of frozen precipitation we experienced during the winter. She would follow the local weather constantly, hoping for a day off from school. We had developed a strange ritual of doing a dance in the yard as though that would encourage the weather we wanted.

  When we were younger, we spent so much of our time together. Jayme had been only two years younger than me, but from an early age, I had felt very protective of her. She had always been shy and insecure, having struggled with body image since she was old enough to worry about that sort of thing.

  She just hadn’t understood how truly beautiful she was. She had always gone out of her way to make people like her, even if they were the wrong type of people.

  Renee stopped walking and turned to me. “We don’t have to talk about Devon. I know you don’t like him. And actually, I understand why. He hasn’t been very nice to you,” she stated, and I couldn’t help the snort that escaped.

  “Or you,” I added hesitantly, not sure if I should keep my opinions quiet but finding it hard to stifle how I felt.

  Renee thinned her lips, and I waited for the argument. It never came. And I was glad I had voiced how I felt without censoring myself.

  “Why don’t we just go get some dinner,” Renee responded shortly, and I knew I had overstepped. It was very clear that she was extending the olive branch only so far, and that I should just take what she was offering and back off.

  What was it about an impending train wreck that made it impossible to look away? That’s what Renee’s life looked like—a big messy train ride to doom. But as much as I wanted to jump on the tracks and stop it, I knew my intervention would not be appreciated. Being Renee’s friend of late meant perfecting the art of tongue biting. And I had damn near bitten my tongue in half.

  We walked the two blocks to campus in relative silence. It was uncomfortable and forced, and I was wishing I had decided to heat up a pack of ramen noodles instead.

  Renee cleared her throat. “So what did you think of Compulsion? Not really your scene, huh?” she asked in an attempt at teasing.

  I tried not to jump to the defensive, to stick my tongue out and stamp my foot in a fit of immaturity while shouting, It is so my scene. What do you know about it?

  But Renee was right. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that a place like Compulsion was typically the last place you’d find straitlaced, in-bed-by-ten-o’clock Aubrey Duncan on a Saturday night.

  There was something really annoying about that.

  “I was thinking about going back next weekend,” I said belligerently, just to see what Renee would say to that.

  See, I can be as wild and crazy as the next chick.

  But it was the truth. I wanted to go back.

  I had strangely enjoyed myself. Attempted drugging and possible death by mosh pit aside, it was something I wanted to experience again.

  From the look on Renee’s face, I might as well have told her I was planning on shaving my head and starting an all-girl pop group. “You’re going back? Really? Why?” she asked incredulously.

  My thoughts drifted to the man in the baseball cap. He had been insistent that I didn’t belong there, that I was the proverbial fish out of water. And now it was obvious that my roommate felt the same way. It made me oppositional and more than a little defiant. Because I was struck by the insane drive to prove them wrong.

  And something else had become clear to me: being at the club, dancing in the constricting darkness, I felt like I was able to be a person that I couldn’t be anywhere else. Someone who was a lot more interesting than watching paint dry. Someone who got a thrill out of more than organizing her sock drawer. An Aubrey who was spontaneous and slightly out of control. An Aubrey who was wild.

  That Aubrey was fun.

  That Aubrey was free.

  I gritted my teeth and forced a smile paired with an indifferent shrug. “Why not?” I asked flippantly.

  Renee shook her head and followed me into the commons. We got in line for the salad bar, but I had lost my appetite. “You need to be careful in places like that, Aubrey. Sure, they look fun on the surface, but crazy stuff happens there. It’s not exactly like going to the mall or something,” she responded in that worldly way of hers that never failed to make me feel like an idiot.

  I gave her a cheesy grin. “Hey, I remember when the Peach Pit was turned into a nightclub. I’ve seen what happens when those crazy Beverly Hills kids get their drink and drugs on. I’m so prepared.”

  Renee laughed.

  “Watching 90210 is like a manual for life!” I added. Even though I joked about it, I was slightly annoyed at her insistence that I didn’t know what to expect by going to a club like Compulsion. Where had she gotten the idea that I was some silly little shut-in who would be scared of the big bad world?

  I knew Renee was just trying to be a good friend. But I didn’t appreciate anyone, whether it was a mysterious stranger who made my insides flutter or the girl who up until six months ago had been my very best friend, treating me as though I was incapable of making sound and reasonable decisions.

  “That makes me feel so much better,” Renee responded dryly. She turn
ed to the salad bar and started dumping lettuce onto her plate. I watched in mock horror at the food she was putting on her tray. I had never understood the concept of eating salad for a meal. It was a starter, not a main course. It just seemed all sorts of wrong, this coming from the girl who consumed coffee and snack cakes like they were major food groups.

  If this was how Renee was eating, it was no wonder she was skin and bones. I had a sneaking suspicion that her newfound minimal eating habits had to do with a particular douchy boyfriend and his insistence that she stay skinny. Devon really needed a one-on-one with a baseball bat.

  I reached past her and grabbed a slice of chocolate cake and put it on her tray. “Do yourself a favor and ingest some calories,” I said before she could argue. I grabbed myself a bottle of water and waited for Renee to swipe her student ID card to pay for her meal.

  While I stood there, my eyes drifted around the commons. It was pretty crowded, and there weren’t many seats left. If we were stuck sitting with frat guys again, I was going to walk home. A girl could listen to their engrossing discussions about boobs and beer only so many times.

  And then I saw him. Standing by the back wall, just to the side of the fire exit, was Maxx Demelo. I hadn’t seen him after our run-in on campus. He had missed the last support group meeting but had called Kristie to say he had come down with the flu. His absence in the group had been noticeable, and not just by me. It was like he had left a vacuum in his place. It was hard to believe that one person could influence the entire vibe of a group like that.

  Meet Maxx Demelo, future cult leader extraordinaire.

  After we had dismissed group for the evening ten minutes early due to zero participation, Kristie had mentioned that members were allowed to miss only a certain number of sessions. I hadn’t realized that they were held accountable for their attendance to such a degree.

  Having already missed one meeting, Maxx would be able to miss only one more before Kristie would have to report his attendance record to his probation officer. That would come with some hefty consequences, given that his jail time was suspended contingent on his group and counseling participation.