“Um,” I said. Damn it, where was Owen when I needed him? I didn’t want to leave, afraid that he might follow me, and try something. I decided to indulge in the conversation, hoping to kill time so that my boyfriend could come to my aid. “Uh, yeah . . . I like the sound of that,” I lied.
The guy’s lips curled up into a grin that made my stomach twist in knots. “I thought you might.” He pulled out a small Ziploc bag from the inside of his leather jacket, grabbed my hand, placed it in my palm, and closed my fingers around it. “The first bag is free.”
“So, this will really work?” I asked, not at all interested. I had no intention of ever using drugs to get me through finals. Certainly not from a stranger. I was just trying to keep him occupied. “What do I do?”
The creepy guy looked over my shoulder, his gaze locking on to something, and I turned to see Owen standing there. His face was beet red, his nostrils flaring, and his eyes screamed anger. Before I could say anything he turned on his heels, and stormed out of the dorm.
“Look,” I said, turning back quickly to the guy. I shoved the baggie in his hand. “I’m really not interested.”
I took off like a bat out of hell, trying to catch up with Owen. By the time I reached the courtyard, he was nowhere in sight. I pulled out my cell phone, scrolled to his name, and hit the call button. The phone rang twice before going to voice mail.
He rejected my call!
A lump formed in my throat as I called several more times. Each time it went straight to his answering machine. On my last attempt, I left him a message.
“Owen,” I said, my voice was frantic. “I don’t know where you are, or why you aren’t answering my calls, but what you saw wasn’t what it looked like. I was waiting for you in the lobby, the guy . . .” I paused to take a breath. I was on the verge of tears. “The guy approached me. He scared the hell out of me. I figured I’d keep him busy until you came down, afraid that if I left he’d follow me.” I inhaled a sharp breath. “I-it really wasn’t what it looked like. Call me back . . . please.”
I hung up the phone. Standing in the middle of the courtyard, I felt the tears start to fall down my cheeks. What just happened? Why did he run out like that? Why wasn’t he giving me a chance to explain myself? I knew exactly how it looked; it looked like I was buying drugs. Didn’t he know me better than that?
I felt the stares of everyone as they walked passed me. Unable to take it anymore, I ran up to my room. I slammed the door behind me, collapsing on top of my bed. Not two minutes later, I heard my door fly open. My heart jumped in my throat. I pushed myself off the bed.
“Ow—” My words trailed off when I realized it was Amelia who entered. Not Owen.
“Brennan,” Amelia said, closing the door behind her. “Is everything okay?”
“N-no,” I stuttered, wiping away the tears.
I sank down to the floor, pulled my knees to my chest, and leaned against my bed. Amelia crossed the room, sat down next to me, and wrapped her arms around me. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
I looked at her, studying her for a moment. We’d barely spoken a word to each other in the last couple months, and here she was, all of a sudden deciding to be a friend again. I debated not telling her anything, blowing her off, like she had done to me. But I needed to talk to someone. I needed to make sense.
I took a deep breath and then launched into a full explanation of what happened. She sat quietly, listening to me as I gave her a play by play of the brief encounter. She didn’t speak, only listened.
“Oh wow,” she said softly after I was done. “I don’t know what to say.”
“What do I do?” I asked, my voice shaky, full of panic. “I mean, I just don’t get it. Why is he ignoring me?”
Amelia cast her eyes away and started to chew on her fingernails. She picked at the invisible lint on the sweater she was wearing. I watched her, trying to figure out her sudden change in demeanor.
“I don’t know, Brenn,” she finally said, still not meeting my eyes. “Maybe there’s more to it that you don’t know.”
My mouth fell open. I had a sinking feeling, like a knot in the pit of my stomach, that she knew more than she was letting on. “You know something, don’t you?”
“N-no,” she answered too quickly. She bit her lower lip, briefly meeting my gaze before looking away again. “I’m just saying that there might be an explanation as to why he stormed off like that, and why he isn’t answering your calls.”
I wasn’t buying it—not for one second. She knew something. What it was, I didn’t know, but I was going to find out. One way or another, Owen was going to have to talk to me at some point. He couldn’t ignore me forever, especially when I honestly did nothing wrong.
I sighed, resting my head against my mattress. I closed my eyes, my fingers playing with the charm nestled next to the locket around my neck. I jumped at the sound of Amelia’s phone beeping in that annoying tone of hers. I cracked open my eyes, looking over at her. She glanced over the top of her phone, before shifting her gaze back to the screen. Her fingers flew in a flurry as she typed out a long response.
When she was done, she set her phone in her lap. The way she was looking at me, that suspicious gleam in her eyes, the small grin on her face, indicated something was up.
“Who was that?” I asked.
“Oh, uh.” She glanced down at her phone, tucking it out of my line of sight. “Just a friend.” I narrowed my eyes, and she moved around uncomfortably. “So, what’s up?”
I jerked back my head a little, surprised by her complete one-eighty. The girl I had started to miss seemed to be staring back at me, like she hadn’t been all but missing the last few months. “Uh, I don’t know . . .” I said, slowly and cautiously. “You tell me. What the hell’s been going on with you lately?”
I wasn’t going to let her off the hook without discovering what had been up with her.
“Uh-huh, we’re not going to talk about me,” she said, her voice low, almost like a warning. The cold stare she gave me said all I needed to know—I wasn’t going to get what I was wanting. I cleared my throat, looking around the room nervously. “Fill me in on what I’ve been missing out on, other than what happened today. How have things been with you and Owen until now?”
“Amelia . . .” I drew out.
When did the two of us switch personalities? At the beginning of the year, I was the one who refused to open up. Now, she wasn’t spilling anything. The girl who never kept anything to herself was suddenly locked tighter than a vault. It was going to take more than a blowtorch to break through the lock.
Amelia shook her head, warning me to stop while I was ahead. What was it going to take to get her to open herself back up? I ran through different things in my head, trying to find some kind of opening to get her off her guard, before trying to pry again.
“Owen and I slept together!” I blurted out.
The blood rushed to my face, turning my cheeks bright red. Amelia squealed, that high piercing sound that I hadn’t heard in some time now. The very one that I was sure was going to ruin my hearing.
“And . . .” she pressed, raising an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.
“It was great,” I said, releasing a slow breath. She tilted her head to the side, clearly wanting more details than that. “It’s amazing. Mind blowing. I don’t know why I waited so long to do it. I can’t seem to get enough!”
“And Owen . . . is he . . . you know . . .” she dragged out. “Blessed in certain areas below the belt?”
Her choice of words took me by surprise. She wasn’t one to censor herself, not in the slightest bit. I was expecting something more along the lines of “How big is his junk?” Something more straightforward than that.
Regardless, I couldn’t help the huge smile that spread across the face. “Well, considering the fact I don’t really have anyone to compare him with, I’d say he’s extremely blessed.” Her face lit up
like it was Christmas morning. “And then some . . .” I added.
She mocked like she was fanning herself, falling backward to the floor. She sat back up, her eyes set on me, and for a split second, I saw the vivacious girl lurking behind sad eyes. “Okay, spill every detail. I’m about to live vicariously through you.”
I shook my head. “My lips are sealed.”
She playfully slapped her hand against my knee. I reached up behind my head, fiddling around my bed until my hands touched what I was looking for. I grabbed the pillow, throwing it at her without warning. The pillow missed by a mile—I really needed to work on my aim.
“Oh, it’s on now!” Amelia exclaimed.
She shot up to her feet, grabbed a pillow from her bed, and chucked it in my direction. I held up my hands, blocking the incoming fluff of feathers. Before I had time to recover, another pillow became well acquainted with my face. I laughed loudly, rising to my feet, and grabbed another pillow from my bed.
World War Three broke out. Feathers from inside the pillows floated around in the air, cloaking our room in a feathery mess. The lamp on the desk had been knocked over. Our breathing was ragged from the serious beating we received from one another.
“Truce,” I said, holding my hands up in surrender.
Amelia paused, arm at the ready to fire off another pillow assault. For a moment, I thought she was going to come after me. She dropped the pillow to the floor. Without warning, she charged at me, tackling me onto my bed. We fell on top of my mattress, my rib cage aching from all the laughter we had done.
We lay by each other, staring up at the ceiling. “I missed you,” I whispered, admitting how I felt.
“I missed you, too,” she replied. I pulled her into my arms, much like how Owen did, and gave her the biggest hug.
“Amelia,” I said carefully, releasing her from my embrace. I sat up, turning to look at her. “I’m not going to push you to tell me what’s been going on lately, but I want you to know that I’m here for you. Just like you were for me.”
She sat up, wrapped her arms around me, and rested her head on my shoulder. “I know,” she whispered.
We sat there for a moment, letting the silence speak for itself. I hoped that this was the beginning of getting my friend back. I hoped that whatever had sent her into a downward spiral was done with, and that she’d be back to her crazy self in no time.
Amelia hopped to her feet, clapped her hands together, and slowly turned toward me. “So, rumor has it that there’s a party tonight.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to go,” I told her. “Owen and I were supposed to go together, but he’s avoiding me now. So I guess that’s out of question now.”
“Uh-huh,” she retorted, placing her hands on her hips. She stared me down, reminding me of the stance my mother took whenever someone was about to be scolded. “We’re going. End of discussion.”
“Am—” I started.
“Not going to listen to whatever excuse you come up with, Brenn.” She cut me off. “I haven’t been to a party in ages, and my ass is begging to shake itself on the dance floor.”
I frowned, dropping my shoulders, wanting to ask her what she’s been up to lately. If not partying, then what? I really didn’t want to go to the party, not until Owen and I were able to put this behind us. Yet, I wanted to go, because of my roommate. It felt like it’s what the two of us needed to get back on track.
“I’m not taking a no for an answer.” She tore into my thoughts. “So, get up off your bed, and let me work my magic.”
That piqued my interest. I couldn’t remember the last time I let Amelia use me to play dress up. I hesitated, my therapist’s words playing in my head. Who knew how long Amelia’s mood would last? I had to do what my doctor told me to do whenever I went through my mood swings. I had to just go with it.
I got up and laughed at the mischievous grin that appeared on Amelia’s face. Why did I get the feeling that I wasn’t going to like what was about to come?
Amelia pulled out the chair from the desk, dragging it over toward the closet. She placed in front of the full-length mirror so that my back would be facing it. I wouldn’t be able to see what she was doing until she was finished. She motioned for me to sit down, and I obliged.
She went to work: first washing away the makeup I had put on earlier, moving on to reapply more to my face, and then moved onto my hair. When she was done, she moved to the closet. I could hear the hangers sliding along the rod as she searched for whatever she was looking for.
She came from behind me, turning her body so I couldn’t see what was in her hand. All I caught was a flash of red, but I didn’t need for her to reveal what she was hiding. I knew exactly what she had, and there was no way I was putting it on.
“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “There is no way in hell I’m wearing that tonight.”
She pulled out the red dress. I stared at the satin material. It was strapless with a cut out in the back and was just long enough to cover my back side. I would not be able to sit down or bend over without giving the world a peep show.
“If Owen is at the party, there is no way he can ignore you if you’re wearing this,” she said, rocking the dress back and forth.
“I’m trying to get him to talk to me, not piss him off even more, possibly sending him into cardiac arrest,” I retorted. “I’m not wearing that, Amelia.” I crossed my arms over my chest to emphasize my point.
She puckered out her lower lip, making a sad face. When I wouldn’t budge, she sighed, and headed back to the closet. There was absolutely no way I was going to wear that dress. Not a chance in hell. I’d wear a trash bag before wearing it.
“Okay, I think I’ve got it this time,” she said, using a singsong voice. She held up one of the dresses that I loved from the moment I saw it hanging on her side of the closest. It was strapless with sweetheart neckline and flowed into an A-line skirt at the bottom. It was simple, elegant, and more importantly, the hem of the dress would brush the top of my knees. “Oh, and no flats,” she added.
“But—” I started to protest.
“Nope! My dress, my rules,” she teased. “If you want to wear this dress, you’ll do so wearing heels. Oh!” she exclaimed, as if remembering something. She walked back to the wardrobe, pulled open a drawer, slammed it shut, and then came back. She held up three-inch wide black belt with a large buckle. She handed both the items to me. “Now, get dressed. There isn’t a second to waste.”
I stood up and changed into my new outfit. I stepped into the dress. I unhooked the belt, wrapped it around my midsection, nestled it under my breasts, and fastened it into place. I decided to go with a pair of black heels that had a one and a half inch heel.
Since I passed on the red dress, Amelia decided to wear it. She did her makeup, applying bright red lipstick on her lips. She curled her hair, pinning pieces of it back. She looked like a model. She stepped into the dress, struggling to get it over her waist.
“A little help?” she asked.
I walked over toward her, pulling up on the dress. After a few tugs, the dress was in place. Amelia moved to zip up the zipper on the side, and found herself struggling again. I laughed as she glared at me through the mirror. I gathered the two sides of the dress, pulling it together, as she fought with the zipper.
“I don’t think it’s going to zip, Amelia,” I told her after a few minutes.
“It’ll fit,” she snapped. I was speechless as she continued to pull up on the zipper. “C’mon, damn it!” she said, not hiding the irritation in her voice. With one last tug, the zipper slid into place. “There we go!” she squealed.
She pulled a pair of black heels—daring a four-inch height—and sat down awkwardly in the chair as she pulled them on. Once her shoes were in place, she dragged me toward the mirror.
“God, we look hot,” she said. “I’m a genius.”
“You look like a hooker.”
“I do not!” Amelia screeched. She looked into
the mirror, turning from side to side, and checked herself out. “Okay, maybe I do, but I look like a hot hooker.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Like that’s any better.”
She pushed me to the side, and I stumbled a few steps. I joined her again the mirror, giving myself one final look over. Amelia wrapped her arms around me, pressing our faces together, and smiled at our reflection.
“Owen can’t stay mad at you when you show up wearing this,” she said, turning to walk away.
I smoothed my hands down the front of my dress, turning slightly to the right. “I sure hope not.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
“I REALLY HATE YOU right now,” I said loudly, trailing behind Amelia, who was walking like a speed demon.
“C’mon, slowpoke,” she responded jokingly over her shoulder. “Be thankful you aren’t wearing skyscrapers for shoes.”
“I’m thankful that I’m not as insane like you,” I teased back. “At least, I have some common sense.”
Our voices fell to the sound of music echoing from inside our destination. My heart caught in my throat. Amelia slowed to a stop, and I stood next to her. Her eyes were wide, full of excitement and hope the night promised us.
I, on other hand, was trying my best to not freak out. Instinctually, I reached for my necklace, trying to will the memory away. Amelia had no idea. But me, I remembered it like it was yesterday. This was the same sorority house we were at the night she was drugged, the night a group of guys almost had their way with her, and the night Owen came to the rescue.
It was the night I met Sam, the night he warned me to stay away from Owen, and the night I saw Owen for who he really was—not the person everyone assumed he was.
My palms were clammy, my chest heaving in and out. I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to ignore the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. It was my first panic attack in months.
“You okay, Brenn?” Amelia’s voice sliced through the air.
I snapped out my trance. I moved my hand from the death grip around my locket and smoothed it down the front of my dress. “Ye-yeah, I-I’m fine,” I stuttered. She stared at me for a moment. I could see the question hanging off the tip of her tongue. “Let’s get inside.”
This One’s For You Page 36