by Eden Beck
It vibrates my whole ribcage … or that might just be my own beating heart.
“This one has roses on it,” Olive gushes as we near the table I’ve chosen.
“That’s why I picked it,” I lie, trying to sound smooth and not like the nervous wreck I am.
She stands there for a moment, but I realize too late that she meant for me to pull the chair out for her. She makes a little face when she finally does it herself with me scurrying to sit across from her and dig into whatever weird dish she’s chosen.
I know it probably tastes amazing, but it could be ash for all my brain can concentrate on it. Now that I’m here, I feel far more exposed than I expected … even among a crowd like this. My eyes keep nervously scanning the transformed gymnasium until I think I catch sight of Beck, his eyes meeting mine for the shortest second before tearing themselves away. Aside from that, he and Becky are paying us no mind, which is fine by me.
Beck has been avoiding me in the days since our kiss. I find one hand absentmindedly reaching up to trace the outline of my lips, remembering for a second the rush of forbidden emotions in that moment.
I can’t be completely lost in it, however. Beck isn’t my only worry tonight. In fact, he might be the least of them.
With Heath nowhere to be found and Jasper still out of sight, I should be safe.
And then I see the dean making a beeline toward me, and I know exactly what he’s here for.
Ah, shit. I’m not out of the woods yet, it seems. I’ve been providing the numbers to random doctor’s offices around my home time, each time pretending to have forgotten exactly which one has my info … but it seems that jig is finally up. I thought I’d outrun this thing, but it seems it’s caught up to me right at the most inopportune moment.
I turn to Olive, trying to look busy so maybe he’ll just leave us alone. “So, uh, what was this called again?” I ask, and I pretend to be listening with rapt attention as the dean of our school walks straight up to my table.
“Mr. Trevellian,” he says.
I jump, pretending to be startled. “Oh—hello, Dean Withers. Didn’t see you there.”
He doesn’t look as though he believes me. And he shouldn’t. He just clears his throat and looks down at me like I’m an annoying gnat that’s gotten in his way.
“I thought we might discuss something privately.”
“Uh, anything can be said in front of Olive here,” I say cheerfully, my grin not matching the churning feeling inside me. Olive just beams at him, oblivious.
“Fine.” The dean sighs and glances shrewdly at Olive before turning back to me. “It’s about your medical records.”
“What about ‘em?” I ask with false confidence.
“The school has yet to receive them. Have there been issues with your doctor?”
“Oh. Uh. Yeah, I guess so.” I stab my fork into whatever it is we’re eating. Some kind of steak?
He narrows his eyes. “This is much more urgent than you realize, young man. You shouldn’t have been allowed in here without them.”
I look pointedly across the room towards the entrance. “Well, now that I’m here it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
My tone doesn’t convey the way my heart feels like it’s sitting at the top of my throat.
It also doesn’t seem to amuse the dean.
“You need to hand those in.”
His gaze is scathing. I can’t sit under it for another second without breaking down.
So, with no better idea, I stand up. “Sure thing. Later, though—Olive, do you wanna dance?”
She beams up at me. “Yeah! I’d love to!”
“Excuse me, sir.” The dean stands baffled at my side as I reach out for Olive’s hand. She smiles as she places her fingers across my palm and I whisk her out to the dance floor, nudging us into the most crowded part to keep myself from the dean’s view.
“Bleakwood’s been trying to get everyone’s medical records too, huh?” Olive asks.
“Yeah. The whole mono thing, I guess.”
She rolls her eyes. “Honestly, it’s a waste of time.”
“Yeah, it totally is.” And they’re bound to find out some things I don’t want them to, I think, putting my hands on her waist and slow dancing awkwardly.
Olive smiles and steps closer. “I’m really glad you asked me to the dance, Alex,” she says in a low voice. “I was starting to tire of your little game.”
Normally something like that would make me cringe, but I’m only half paying attention to Olive.
I try to smile back at her, but it comes out more as a grimace. I’ve got to keep an eye on the dean, who’s prowling the edges of the dance floor, scowling into the crowd, searching for me. I also pick out Dean Robin skulking around, too, her eyes scanning the crowd. Hell, they’re both here.
I don’t know what they’ll do to get me to give up my medical records. I haven’t even done anything about procuring them. But it’s a mistake to watch them so hard, because I don’t notice that someone’s behind me until a hand clamps painfully down on my shoulder and wrenches me away from Olive.
“Jasper!” Olive yells indignantly.
He whirls me to face him, and I know the moment that our eyes locked that I am totally and utterly fucked.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I did this to myself.
It doesn’t matter that we’re in the middle of a crowded room, surrounded by our peers and professors. Everything snaps into sharp focus as I stare up at Jasper’s rage-filled eyes, flared nostrils, bared teeth. His fingers dig into the joint of my shoulder, his hand pressing into me until my knees start to buckle.
The crowd around us barely takes any notice. A few people pause and look at us with alarmed expressions, but for the most part, they’re a wall of slowly rotating bodies engulfed in the music and their own dance partners.
“What the hell, Olive?” Jasper snaps, turning from me to her.
“I should ask you the same!” Olive yells back, but her face colors rapidly. She’s embarrassed. She should be—she straight up ditched Jasper, after all.
I, however, am in pain.
I grab Jasper’s hand and try to pry his fingers off me, but I only succeed in loosening his grip just enough to make the pain decrease a bit.
He grabs my wrist with his other hand and yanks it away. Behind him, Beck and Heath materialize out of the crowd, and my knees grow weak for another reason—they both look incredibly handsome.
I guess as much as I’ve been trying to write off Beck’s kiss as an isolated incident, as something that doesn’t matter, I can’t ignore the fact now that something about him has changed for me. And somehow, this change isn’t solely in regards to my feelings for Beck.
I didn’t get a good look at Beck before; now, up close, I see him in his tailored suit jacket and dress shirt and want him to kiss me all over again. Heath, meanwhile, looks much more casual in his untucked button-up shirt with half the buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
Here, standing in front of the entire Brotherhood, I feel a new complicated web of feelings. Complicated especially by the fact that Jasper’s face is once again screaming murder.
“You stole Jasper’s girl,” Beck says simply.
Heath nods.
Jasper looks at me again and starts digging his fingers even harder into my flesh, any momentary lapse in my own judgement disappearing in a burst of pain.
No. This is The Brotherhood. These are my bullies. I must remember that.
I cry out and stumble sideways and straight into a slow-dancing couple. They yell and get out of my way, and I try to flee, but Jasper’s grasp on me is strong. He comes with me as I fall sideways again and the crowd shuffles out of my way until I fall straight into the Christmas tree.
That little antic starts to draw some real attention.
From across the room, I see Rafael pale and start pushing his way towards us—surely to save his precious dance decorations. Even more eyes are on
me now. Dean Withers and Robin spot me and they start making their way over.
I’m torn.
I know I need to stay away from them, that maybe if I can get through tonight and to Christmas break they’ll just give up on this whole records thing … but also, I’d like to live to see another Christmas.
And surely Jasper wouldn’t kill me in front of them … would he?
“You humiliated me,” Jasper hisses, bringing his face close to mine as I struggle to get out of his grasp.
“Yeah? And how many times have you humiliated me?” I want to sound angry and defiant, but the pain makes my voice shake.
“That’s different!” he snaps. “You were marked by The Brotherhood!”
“You’re our bitch,” Heath adds. He and Beck have slipped through again in our wake. A small circle forms around the three of us, and Olive stands on the edge.
When I look over at Beck, I think I see a single flicker of uncertainty on his face—just for a second—before it disappears behind a mask of cruelty.
“Well, for being your bitch, I certainly have a lot of dirt on you all,” I snarl, surprisingly emboldened given my current position. “I know you obviously have anger issues.”
Heath bursts into laughter … and somehow, of all the things, this is what makes me snap.
“And you!” I shout.
Jasper, who’s just raised his fist, hesitates and glances over his shoulder at Heath.
“You three are all pissed that I ‘stole your spotlight’ or whatever, when you were so strung out on Adderall you couldn’t even play that lacrosse game!”
Heath falls silent, a scowl darkening his features as the people around us gasp and look over at him. I grab Jasper’s wrist with both hands and try to push him off me. He’s too heavy.
“That’s enough,” Beck says, taking a step forward. “Just hit him, Jasper.”
And I thought I’d snapped before.
“Of course you’d want to shut me up. You’re the one who cornered me and kissed me outside the locker room!”
Beck’s face drains of all color, and this time as the crowd looks at him, both Heath and Jasper stare in disbelief with them. I’m carving a path of destruction.
I know it.
There’s no coming back from this.
Jasper is absolutely going to kill me. Might as well make my last words count, then.
“And you’re playing right into my hands,” I spit at him, and he meets my gaze again. His fist still hovers halfheartedly in the air, loosely formed. “Olive jumped at the chance to ditch you and come with me to this dance. And I don’t even like her!”
A laugh rips its way out of my throat. I feel like a maniac.
I must be a maniac, because only a maniac would do what I’m doing right now.
My breath is coming in heavy gasps, but that still doesn’t slow me.
“I only brought her to piss you off, Jasper! And you’re as predictable as ever—just an angry, horny bull in an empty pasture.” I don’t even know what I’m saying, but Jasper’s fist forms again as the rage tears across his face, and the two deans drawing nearer, pushing through the crowd that has all turned to face me.
“Let him go!” the dean yells, right as Olive bursts out into sobs and flees, shoving her way through the crowd.
“Olive!” Jasper yells, his grip loosening just a bit as he looks at her, then whirls toward the dean.
I slither out of his grasp. He snarls and grabs at the back of my blazer, but I shrug it off and dive toward the crowd.
It’s chaos.
Whoever’s DJing obviously hasn’t noticed anything amiss, because the song switches to another thumping beat. The part of the crowd that has no clue what’s been happening cheers and starts dancing wildly while the other half just starts to stir agitatedly.
Me? I jump into a dense cluster of dancers and chance a look back.
Heath and Beck are still as statues, both stunned into silence as their secrets settle into the crowd around them, leaving them exposed. The dean is yelling something, Jasper is paying no mind as he claws his way through the dancers, and Dean Robin stands still and calm while she coolly scans the room.
I have to get out of here.
I’m small and I’m practiced in dodging thanks to the last weeks in lacrosse. I weave my way off the dance floor until I stumble out near a table where several couples who are much too cool to dance sit with blank expressions. Startling them is a bit satisfying, but I rush past and charge out of the double doors and into the hallway, leaving the dance behind.
Even above the bumping music and yelling crowd, I hear Jasper absolutely screaming my name. The butler dudes by the door look alarmed. I rush past them, down a random corridor, and start trying classroom doors.
Locked. Next one. Locked. Next one. I glance over my shoulder to see Jasper come out of the dance like a hurricane, breathing hard, looking crazed and impossibly strong. Our eyes meet. I freeze.
And then he starts running.
What a horrible mistake I’ve made.
And I’m not even thinking of Olive, of this travesty of some kind of attempt to humiliate Jasper.
I’m thinking of coming to Bleakwood in the first place. That was the mistake.
“GET BACK HERE!” Jasper yells as I turn and run full tilt down the corridor. I’m not even sure what wing I’m in. Have I been down here?
I leap sideways down a branching hallway at an intersection, then quickly turn the first corner I find afterward. My heart is pounding as I hear Jasper skid to a stop as he tries to follow. I’m out of his sight, but I’m sure he can still hear me. I duck into another, narrower hallway and keep going.
This place is like a maze when you’re not paying close attention. The halls feel eerily empty as I hear Jasper’s pounding footsteps echoing from behind me. I throw myself around another corner and try the nearest door. Miraculously, it’s unlocked, and I slip inside and gently pull the door shut as quietly as I can.
Now if only I could still my beating heart.
I press myself flat against the wall by the door and allow myself several deep breaths. I’m in a dark classroom. All the desks are pushed against the opposite wall and piled on top of one another, leaving the middle of the floor empty. Beside me is an empty shelf so dusty I can see the layers of grime even in the dim light.
Now I just have to wait.
I hunker down in the classroom to rest, hide, and catch my breath. I can hear Jasper prowling around the hallway and yelling, then occasionally hiding himself as one of the deans pass by, searching for him as well as me.
I’m exhausted—not from the chase, but from the panic, the adrenaline. My limbs shake as I crouch with my back against the door, just under the long, rectangular glass pane that serves as its window.
My breathing regulates. It’s quiet. Maybe it’s safe to leave my sanctuary and run to my dorm. Even Jasper has to calm down eventually, right? Tomorrow morning I can go to the infirmary and ask for Nurse Weber’s help as far as the medical records go.
I should have gone to her in the first place.
Now that I don’t hear my own blood rushing in my ears, I realize how stupid this whole thing has been. Everything here tonight could have easily been avoided. Coming to Bleakwood might have been something of a mistake, but that would be nothing compared to giving up now … after everything I’ve done to stay here.
I chance a peek out of the slim window in the door. The hallway looks clear. Moving slowly and quietly, I grab the door handle and turn it—
And it’s yanked out of my hand as Jasper flings the door open.
I scream and stumble back, but he grabs me by the forearm and steps close, pulling the door shut behind him.
There is no sign of him having started to cool. That fire, rage, jealousy, and humiliation—just as my own angry self wanted him to feel—still burns in his eyes.
But this time, Heath and Beck aren’t here to check his rage. I haven’t heard from or seen either of the deans
in a while. Nobody else knows I’m here—not that anyone but Rafael would care to look for me.
I’m double fucked, but there’s no time to think about that.
Jasper flings me away from him. I overbalance and tumble to the ground, banging my elbow against the hard floor. Pain shoots up my arm in both directions.
“Make a fool out of me?” Jasper growls, his teeth clenched. He’s normally a shouter, but this is scarier.
I try to scramble away, but Jasper grabs me by the waist and yanks me toward him.
“Stop!” I gasp, trying to grab anything I can reach.
“I don’t think so!” he yells back, flipping me onto my back and straddling my thighs. I’ve seen this in movies. I know he’s about to start pounding me with his fists.
He puts one hand on my throat and squeezes, presses. I cough. I can’t get air. He pulls back his fist and slams it into my stomach, knocking any remaining breath out of me.
“Jasper,” I try to say, but his hand closes tighter around my throat. My vision starts to tunnel. He’s little more than a blurry shape now. I don’t see his fist when it slams into my chest, with whatever air in my lungs I have left, I let out a yelp of pain.
My vision narrows. My entire world is just blurry pain. I flail my arms, grabbing at him, but it’s like he doesn’t feel it at all. Finally, I feel my hand pass over his face. That’s a cheek. That’s a nose. I bend my wrist and jam my thumb into an eye socket.
Jasper lets out a roar of pain and reels while I slither out from under him, gasping, as he loses his grip and claps both hands down over his eye.
“You little punk,” he screams, lurching forward, “I’m going to kill you.”
I kick out at him blindly and catch him in the jaw. He yells and stumbles, giving me enough time to scramble to my feet and attempt a break for the door—the only exit.
I try to give Jasper a wide berth as I pass him, but the room’s not big enough. His hand shoots out with lightning speed, his hand clamping over my wrist. He’s on his feet again. He’s big, wide, muscular, but so, so fast as he puts one hand square on my chest and pushes me into the wall, holding me there.