Enamor (Hearts of Stone #3)

by Veronica Larsen

  CHAPTER NINE

  Julia

  THIS ISN'T GOING AWAY. Moving isn't going to make it disappear. I know that. I've always known that. I just thought I had more time before I'd have to face it.

  Lex's office might as well be a broom closet. It's a windowless room with a tiny desk and a filing cabinet. I sit in the visitor's chair, staring up at the schedules and memos pinned to the corkboard on the wall. Shame rolls up and down my body, from my head right down my spine and up again. It's thick and cold and makes me feel so damn small.

  Lex walks in after a few minutes. But instead of going behind her desk, she kneels down beside my chair until I have no choice but to look into her insanely intense eyes.

  "What happened?" she asks.

  My throat is a bottleneck, unable to handle the demand of the words wanting to burst out of me. I don't make a single sound, despite opening my mouth.

  "Was that you? In the video?" Her tone is careful, soft, even.

  I swallow, not wanting to talk to her of all people about it, but not seeing any other choice. "Yeah."

  "And one of those guys was the one in the video?"

  "No. It was my ex-boyfriend in the video." I know what she's wondering, so I head her off, my sights fixed on my hands as I pick at my fingernails, like a child avoiding eye contact. "I didn't know he recorded us."

  "Was the sex consensual?"

  I nod.

  "Let me guess, he sent the recording around to friends?"

  "Worse. He uploaded it to a revenge site. It's all about guys burning their exes. Embarrassing them."

  "That can't be legal. Have you tried getting it taken down?"

  I take a breath. "Yeah, I've tried with no luck. I thought I could handle it on my own but then my parents found out…someone sent them the link."

  "Jesus…" Lex runs a finger over her eyebrow, clearly not sure how to proceed.

  My eyes burn again at the thought of the way my parents confronted me. Disgusted, accusatory, and demanding I come clean about my part in it. They didn't believe that I didn't know he was recording us.

  You sure seemed like you were enjoying yourself, my father said, a sickened expression on his face.

  I nearly threw up right there.

  Congratulations, he told me, you've just thrown out your entire future and any chance of ever being respected.

  "You need to get a lawyer, Julia."

  I nod. I've known this all along.

  Lex places a hand on the side of my face, lifting my chin to meet her eyes. "Hey, fuck them. You hear me? You did nothing wrong. You sitting here and feeling ashamed? It's bullshit. You intended to have sex in private and someone you trusted violated that privacy. Men love sex, but then love to shame women who also love sex. Don't buy into that. There was nothing degrading about what you did. You know who should feel disgusting? The petty, low, people feeding on the scandal of someone's private moments being exposed for revenge. But you? You have absolutely no reason to glance down, you hear me? You hold your head up, girl."

  I smile a weak smile, because her words weave tendrils of steel through my spine that make it possible for me to sit myself up in the chair. She's wise in a way people our age are usually not. And I wonder what life's put her through to sharpen her to that level.

  "I need to get back to work," I say, regardless of the awful feeling crawling all over my skin. "We're slammed."

  "I had someone cover for you."

  Lex gets up and heads over to a box, opening it and retrieving a brand new bottle of tequila.

  "Sometimes bottles break during shipment."

  "Huh?"

  Her meaning is lost on me, until I see her pour some into a coffee mug.

  "Here. Hard liquor isn't my thing, but I've heard times like these call for it."

  I hesitate to take the mug from her outstretched hand. After all, she's technically my supervisor and I'm sitting in her office during work hours. She smiles then takes a sip, before swallowing and coughing a few times.

  "It's disgusting. You should have some."

  I laugh then take the mug and allow the burn of alcohol to run down my chest. It doesn't make me feel better, exactly, but it doesn't make me feel worse, either. The gesture is really what warms me, the fact that Lex is showing me a side of her I've never seen before.

  "You stay in here until you're ready to go home," she says. Then she gets up and starts toward the door, but stops to turn to me. "Oh…and those guys? I kicked them out, but not before a glass of beer spilled all over that one guy's phone. It was a freak accident."

  A low laugh rips through me.

  "Thank you," I say, though the words feel cheap and insufficient.

  "No worries."

  She closes the door behind her and only then does it occur to me that the person she got to cover my shift is herself. Gratitude floods me in a deep way, washing away a lot of the other stuff I've been feeling. It fills me with a new perspective, the way only gratitude can. And with that, comes a surge of courage.

  Tonight's been a wake up call. It's time to do what I've been dreading. I need to talk to my uncle about this. He offered me help while I lived with him, his legal services free of charge. But I was too embarrassed to even look him in the eye long enough to really discuss it. I thought I'd find another way, after classes were over and I had more time to think.

  But I don't have time on this issue. My embarrassment to face the situation has been my greatest enemy. I have to confront what happened or it's going to follow me around for the rest of my life.

  Grabbing my cellphone, I start a call to my uncle. After several long seconds of ringing, it goes to voicemail. "You've reached Antonio Romano, please leave your message after the beep."

  Two or three full seconds pass before I gather the courage to start talking.

  "Uncle Antonio, it's me. Julia. I hope you're doing well. Thanks again for helping me move in. You left your tool bag behind. Anyway—" I close my fingers over the hem of my shirt to steady them. "I'm calling because you were right about what you said a few weeks ago. I need help with the Andrew situation. I don't know how to make it go away. I just…" I throw my head back and blink at the ceiling. "I need to talk to you, but I need to know that this will stay between us because I don't want—"

  A long beep cuts me off. The message has reached its limit. I hang up and let my hand fall to my lap. I take a long, deep breath, the weight on my chest shifting a fraction. Confronting discomfort is giving me strength, in a world where perfect strangers can render me powerless.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Giles

  THERE ARE OVER TWENTY people in the house at the moment. For a place this size, that's enough to make the simple act of walking across the living room a show of bumping strangers and accidental body grazing. I'm staying put, leaning against the archway to the hall. The music blaring from the other end of the living room is contagious and most of the females are moving to its rhythm in one way or another. Skirts and dresses are riding up thighs.

  Obnoxious laughter rises from the living room area on my right, where a few Chi Omega girls fall over each other in laughter. Ava's with them. She used to be in their sorority before her work demands forced her to drop out.

  Luke comes up on my right. At first he just leans on the wall next to me, staring out to the party crowd, then he says, "Am I seeing things? Or is that the hot Latina chick that bit my head off a while back?"

  How'd I miss her? Julia must have come in from work at some point. I thought I'd catch her going past me to reach the hall to her room, but instead she's settling on the couch beside the group of sorority girls, facing away from us. I haven't seen her at all since this morning, when I walked in on her naked. Her sleek black hair's pulled over to one side, and as she reaches for her water bottle on the table beside her, her shirt falls over her shoulder.

  Fuck those shirts.

  They make the neck hole too big on purpose.

  Most of the women here aren't leaving much to the
imagination as far as their clothes are concerned. It certainly makes for a beautiful view. But Julia? She's wearing a simple, wide-neck shirt and blue jeans, by far showing the least amount of skin. Though I can tell she doesn't intend to radiate sex, she's one of those women who just can't hide it no matter how hard she tries.

  "You didn't tell me you knew her," Luke says, his attention still glued on Julia.

  I can't tear my eyes away, either. She gets up to grab some chips from the table and the way her jeans hug her ass during her short walk is enough to make me forget where I'm standing.

  "I do now," I say. "She's my new roommate."

  "Your new—what? You've been holding out on me, man. How long?"

  "She moved in a week ago."

  "No." Luke waves a hand, impatient. "I mean, how long have you been hitting that?"

  "We're not messing around."

  I know she can't hear us, but she must sense our stare because she glances over her shoulder at me. Her face instantly arranges into a menacing glare that tells me she's still pissed. She turns away, then a few seconds later looks back and catches me still watching her. Shaking her head, and coming to some conclusion, she gets to her feet and heads in my direction. The sparks shooting out of her eyes don't concern me. She's a little thing, what's she going to do? Kick me in my shin?

  Luke stands straighter and says, "What the fuck are you waiting for?"

  She's still far enough away that I can answer Luke's question. "She's not like that. She's not the hooking up type."

  I say it more because I need Luke to believe it. I need him to stop looking at her the way he is right now. His thoughts are so loud I can almost see them flipping past my head. I know what he's thinking, because I'm thinking it, too. Except the images I conjure are more vivid. I know exactly what's beneath her casual clothes, what her breasts would look like cupped in my hands. I can almost conjure up what her skin would smell like. Taste like.

  "Hi there, beautiful." Luke's tone drips in shamelessness. "Remember me?"

  She eyes him for a few seconds, sizing him up. I want to laugh. She hates pet names. I've tried a few on her over the past week, just to see which one bugs her the most. Sweetheart seems to do it.

  Beside me, Luke's phone pings. He pulls it out and immediately starts typing out a text. "Good luck with that, bro," he mumbles, before walking off.

  I don't need luck.

  Julia fixes her attention squarely on me. Hands on her hips, exotic features set in a defiant expression, she hisses, "Stop looking at me like that."

  "Like what?"

  She pokes me in the chest. "Stop looking at me like I'm naked."

  "It's hard not to, the image is burned into my skull. Awful, really. I might need therapy."

  She almost laughs, like she forgot for just a fraction of a second that she's supposed to be angry. It's not the first time she's done that. I'm not complaining, though, I like that she's intent on holding on to that anger. I like her best when she's all fired up.

  "Find a way to get it out of your perverted head."

  "There's only one way."

  "What's that?"

  "I have to take you for a ride."

  Her draw drops. "You're unbelievable."

  "Seriously. We need to just screw and get it over with. Ava doesn't have to know. It's the only way I can get the image of you naked out of my head."

  Julia's got the type of body I could easily whip around and bend into a dozen different positions. Those long legs would look great pulled over my shoulders, or wrapped around my back, or…

  Her finger appears in front of my face like a knife. "Cut it out. I'm not going to live with someone who looks at me like I'm something on a menu and—" She cuts off and for a moment, looking too angry to think of what else to say. She crosses her arms and turns from me like she's about to storm off, yet stands there, visibly ruminating her next words.

  From the other side of me, a small hand lays on the side of my cheek, nudging my face until my eyes connect with the blue-eyed girl standing there, the one I've been talking to on and off all night.

  "Hey you," she says, her words carrying a lot more than just a simple greeting.

  I take her hand in mine and set it back down beside her. I've never liked women touching my face. It's always felt off to me, motherly and too sentimental.

  "My friends are leaving. But I was wondering if I should stay?" she asks, slipping her fingers through a belt loop of my pants and bringing her small frame closer to mine.

  Earlier in the night, I had all but decided I was going to fuck this girl. And she's making it blatantly obvious she wants nothing more. The problem is, I'm suddenly not tempted enough. I'm almost bored by the thought of it.

  I open my mouth to speak, but catch a glimpse of Julia as the last traces of irritation on her face yield to an almost mischievous glint in her eyes. She shoots the blonde an apologetic smile, then looks to me and in a low, embarrassed way, says, "Hey, could you stop leaving your genital wart cream laying around the bathroom? It got all over the sink and it's a bitch to clean up. That stuff reeks."

  She could win an Oscar for this performance. Perfect delivery, flawless expression. Her grave concern weighing on her face like a mask.

  Beside me, the girl's eyebrows tug closer and her mouth twists downward into a mortified expression that she's trying but failing to keep back. It's all too perfect. I bring a hand up to the space between my eyes and laugh. A long, low chuckle.

  "Um." The girl shifts in place, turning her body away from mine, "Okay. This is weird."

  Takes me a few seconds for my shoulders to stop shaking and during that time I watch the girl walk across the room to join her waiting group of friends. Julia remains on the other side of me, radiating triumph.

  "Is that what you wanted?" I ask, finally locking eyes with her. "Are you happy now?"

  She smiles and I'm sure she's aware of how mocking she appears. Mocking enough to send a spark of irritation shooting through me. Julia's the one having fun at my expense tonight. I don't like when the tables turn like this.

  Noticing my souring expression, Julia pats my chest and says, "Cool your tits, bro," and just in case I didn't get the reference, she adds, "payback's a bitch."

  I watch her stroll past me and down the hall with such an air of defiance that it's almost a swagger. I can't deny it's a good look on her.

  Just before she disappears into the bathroom, I call out, "I don't think you're ready to play this game, Julia."

  Her hand lifts in a lazy wave, dismissing my ominous threat.

  A few hours later, after almost everyone has gone home, I head to my room, alone. It's not until I'm already in bed that something on my nightstand catches my attention. There's an ornate, white picture frame that I've never seen before, propped up where someone obviously wanted me to see it. Confused, I pick it up. There's no picture in it. Instead, behind the glass, there's a sheet of paper with a single line written in a loopy, feminine handwriting.

  The note reads: Break glass in the unlikely event you get laid tonight.

  And at the bottom of the paper, there's a condom taped to it. I recognize it as one of my own from within the bedside drawer. A glance inside the drawer reveals she's gotten rid of all my other condoms, which would force me to break the frame if I needed one.

  Touché, Julia.

  If it's a prank war she wants, a prank war is what she'll get.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Julia

  A PART OF ME was surprised last night when I slipped into the house party and Giles didn't immediately swoop down on me. Still wounded from my embarrassing encounter at work, I was somehow all the more determined to stand up to Giles if he so much as blinked at me the wrong way.

  I didn't expect there to be so many people at the house. When I first walked in, I hung back in the kitchen, looking for Giles even though I tried pretending that wasn't what I was doing.

  Eventually, I spotted him. He looked so damn handsome in his but
ton down shirt, smoothing it out in a gesture that seemed suave and inviting. But I also spotted the pretty girl beside him, the blonde whose undivided attention he seemed to feed on. He only had eyes for her and I was not prepared for the trickle of jealousy that ran through me, seeing how wrapped up in her he seemed to be.

  Yeah, maybe a ridiculous part of my ego is what prompted me to embarrass him in front of his potential hookup. It might have been petty, but, God, did I enjoy it. His reaction made me giddy with self-indulgent excitement and for the first time, I wondered if maybe that was why he seemed to like pushing my buttons so much. Because pushing buttons really is fun.

  This morning, I wake up to my alarm clock blaring louder than it ever has before. I shoot up in bed, frazzled and confused, until I remember the last time I used the radio feature of the clock was when I played music in my room as I moved my belongings in. Last night, I set the alarm in order to wake up in time to meet with my uncle this morning. I would've typically used my phone but I'd already been in bed, my phone too far for me to reach.

  My uncle called me back before I even left Lex's office, and wasted no time offering his help and asking me to meet him for breakfast this morning to discuss my options.

  I spend a while in the shower, letting the hot water pour over my face and body and wash away my nerves. I'm finally on the road to handling my unintentional sex tape once and for all. Yet, instead of feeling relieved, or hopeful, I'm numb and a bit hollow. At the end of the day, the damage is done. Countless numbers of people have seen it. All of my friends and my entire family know about it. There's no coming back from that.

  I'm fighting a battle that has no clear winning point. Some battles aren't tangible, simply mirrors to other things that are wrong with the world around us. Still, the instinct to fight is unavoidable. It's not something I've ever known how to ignore.

  Keep your head up, Lex's voice chimes in my head.

  I try to pull on her words to empower me. Because she's absolutely right. Why am I made to feel ashamed of the fact that I had sex? What right did any of my friends or family have to even glance at that footage? The fact that they did was, to me, a huge betrayal. And that's why I can't bring myself to talk to my parents or even my sisters. But knowing that doesn't make it easy.