“She is on break right now,” Michelle says.
“No, I’m … you …” She slaps a hand over my mouth so the rest of my words are muffled.
“She’s on break right now.” To me, she whispers, “Entertainment for the hour.”
She pushes me out of the box, and I head out of the store to the parking lot. Graham follows me to my car and plops down in the passenger seat. I turn to face him from the driver’s side, but he grabs my face and pulls it toward his mouth before I can say one word.
As his tongue slides against mine, a small moan escapes me. God, this boy can kiss. I mean really kiss. He pulls my bottom lip into his mouth and sucks on it gently before releasing it. He leans back with a little smirk. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now. Sarah, I’m tired of this. I don’t want to keep fighting myself every day, looking for reasons to stay away from you. Go out with me?”
“But … you said … ”
“I know what I said. It still hurts, and trust me, the doubts are still there. But I can’t keep seeing you or thinking about you and wondering if maybe this isn’t finished.”
I nod. “I can’t do this hot-and-cold game with you anymore either. If you want to do this, you have to be all in. The whole back and forth, it’s making me insane.”
He smiles. “Okay. So what are you doing Friday, say, around seven?”
“Working.”
“Okay. Saturday?”
“Same answer. I work in the evenings Friday and Saturday. I’m on the afternoon shifts Monday through Thursday. Sunday is always a questionable day. Sometimes I get the morning shift; sometimes it’s the evening shift.” I shrug.
He nods. “We’ll figure something out. I have some things I have to do in the afternoons.”
“I’ve got homework. Oh, and this stupid project.”
“What’s the assignment?”
I chew my lower lip. “I’ve got to write a paper on alcoholic behavior.”
Graham instantly pales. “Oh.” He scratches the back of his head. “Um … I gotta go. I’ll call you.” He hops out of my car like the seat is on fire.
That was … strange.
Chapter Thirteen
Graham
I hate avoiding her. What else can I do, though? Her recent assignment is too close to my secret. I just want to serve my time without telling anyone besides my mom and Bryce.
However, each AA meeting somehow reminds me of Sarah. From her sweet scent of apples and cinnamon to her luscious lips. Each person speaking is like blah-blah-blah. I’m bored, and that’s why my mind keeps wondering to thoughts about her laugh, her smirk, and her soft skin.
Why the hell did she have to pick an assignment on the shit that’s tainted my life? Sure, I’m not an alcoholic, not like these people. But if she saw that video … If she found out everything, she’d see me differently. Like my mom does.
I can’t have Sarah thinking of me like that. So this move is the best. I’ve ignored her texts. Ignored her phone calls. And it sucks. There were so many times I wanted to answer. She deserves better. Which is strange for me to say, because she cheated on me.
Christ. I think I’m in love with her again. Maybe I never stopped. It doesn’t matter. I can’t see her again. I can’t be with her like I want.
I swear when she started talking about her assignment, my blood froze. Clips from that video replayed in my head. Piece by piece. And it still makes me sick. Because that person was not me.
Yes, sometimes I lose my temper like my dad. But this was worse. I punched a guard and took him to the ground. I shouted over and over, “Why did you drag me here?” None of it mattered.
The girl was yelling, with makeup running down her face. “He tried to assault me!”
I don’t know what gives me more chills: the fact that I don’t remember or that someone would accuse me of something so terrible.
A bulky guy steps up on stage. Here we go—another sob story. I’m about to tune him out, but he quickly says, “Hello, I’m Ames. I was the owner of a construction company.
“I’ve been sober for three months. And every day is a struggle. Coming here. Listening to the stories and not going back to my old ways. I was drinking on the job site. I went out during lunch hour and had a few beers then came back. I never thought five beers would impair my judgment. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? We never thought, and now we’re all here.
“I was supposed to be supervising the site. Making sure everyone was safe and doing what they were supposed to be doing. I decided to horse around with some of the guys talking about another worker’s sex life. While we were teasing, a young kid was tacking a pipe. No one was watching him. It was the first time he was doing this type of job. I was supposed to be there. He burned himself bad. Really bad. He was screaming for help. We were too far away to hear. With the drills, the pounding, and the trucks zooming in and out … his screams were muffled.
“If you ask me how drinking and his accident have anything to do with why I’m here, the answer is: I should have been there. Instead I was trying to work off a light buzz and joking around with others instead of looking out for my employees. That was my job. Now that kid walks around with the scars of my actions.” He paused and gulped. “That kid was my own son.”
My stomach plummets. Dude. This story is hitting me hard.
“The contract we had for the building fell through. We missed too many deadlines. I wasn’t focused. After that, how could I be? My son was in the burn unit because of me. I tried making amends for my mistake. But no matter how much time passes, I’ll never be able to forgive myself for what I did. What I allowed to happen.”
I haven’t burned anyone, but shit, I feel him. He wasn’t wasted. He didn’t black out. Me, on the other hand. I was wasted. That girl’s face was pure terror. I don’t know how I got there. I still don’t know why someone was recording it. It’s almost like someone planned for me to fuck up or something and wanted to see me lose control.
The problem with all of this? I can never prove it. But I think those frat fucks who lost to me in beer pong did something.
***
My phone rings. It’s Sarah. It’s two in the morning. I shouldn’t answer it. But what if she’s in trouble? After all, it’s two in the morning. She never calls at this time.
“Hello.”
“Heeeeeey, youuu.”
“Sarah?” It doesn’t sound like Sarah. But the person on the other line doesn’t sound sober at all, so who the hell knows?
“Saha is buzie. She said youu are an asshob.”
“Okay. Can you hand the phone to Sarah?”
“Nooooooo! She’s moobing on.”
“Moving on? What?” The line goes dead. This should be a good thing. But the thought of leaving her alone forever doesn’t sit well with me either. Some stupid twat like Tucker the Fucker could come swooping in. Then what? She needs me to protect her from assholes like that. Doesn’t she?
I have no idea where she is, though. The background noise sounded like a party. Shit! Her project.
Chapter Fourteen
Sarah
I’m done with him. He’s so up and down I can’t keep up. I tap my pencil on my notebook while waiting for my study partners. Why is it I’m always waiting?
Growing frustrated at my table, I push away and begin to pace. Why would he ask me out and then avoid me? His face—as soon as I mentioned my assignment in sociology, it was like I stabbed him. But that shouldn’t have bothered him.
“Hi, Sarah. Sorry I’m late,” Crystal says.
She looks around and frowns. “Where’s Logan?”
I shrug. “Not sure. It’s just us today, I guess. Want to get started? If he winds up showing up, we’ll come back to what we already covered.”
“Sounds good to me.” Her voice is off though, like she’s depressed about something. I know it’s got to do with Logan.
I smile at her and take a seat. “So how was your week?”
She sighs. “Busy. Your
s?”
“Depressing.” I didn’t mean to say it. But now that it’s out there I can’t take it back.
“Why?”
I chew on my lower lip then roll my eyes. “There is this guy I like named Graham. One minute he’s all into me, and the next, well, he can’t bother. I don’t get it! I mean, I do kind of think he still thinks I’ll do something awful to him. Because, okay, we dated before, like when I first got here, but then I broke his heart. Crushed him would be more accurate. Anyway, things between us have been a lot of hot and cold. I can’t take it. Either he wants me, or he doesn’t.”
“Huh,” Crystal says. “Kind of like me and Logan. I like him a lot, and he acts like he’s all into me. Then he goes off on these dates with these stupid girls. And I’m not sure if he’s doing it to make me jealous. Or if he really isn’t into me at all. I mean, I tried mentioning it one time. But he distracted me with a game of Knights of the Round Table. He’s always doing stuff like that.”
“Men.” I scowl. “You know what? It’s Friday night, and I’m done feeling unwanted. Let’s put aside this studying for tomorrow. Let’s go have some fun somewhere.”
Crystal nods. “Okay. Let’s do this. I know there’s a huge party at a frat my friend is in. Wanna go?”
“Sure.” Maybe I can get some research for my assignment done too. Hmmm. “Should one of us agree to stay sober, or should we call a cab?”
“Cab. We’re going to have lots of fun!”
And that is our plan.
***
I’ve had four really strong drinks. Honestly, I think they keep getting stronger with each round. The room is spinning, so I know I’m in deep shit. To top it off, some strange, possibly hot, guy is grabbing my ass. I say possibly hot because there is currently three of him, and they’re all very blurry.
I grind against him, trying to use him for balance. This way I’m not face-planting onto the dirty floor. His whiskey-coated breath hits me. “Wanna come upstairs with me?”
I might not be able to see clearly, but I do know that I’m not going upstairs with anyone. In fact, that’s my cue to get the heck out of here and into a cab. I shake my head. “I’m going to find my friend.”
Crystal is somewhere around here. I start to pull away from the guy, but my shoe catches and I stumble backward. Almost into a display of … I’m not sure … stacked cups or something. Beer cans maybe? Whatever. It’s crap décor in my opinion.
Guy catches me around the waist. I totally forgot his name, by the way. Pretty sure he told it to me four times, but oh well. He’s Guy for now.
“Baby, where are you going? We’re all having fun, right?”
Ugh. He called me baby. Like someone I’m trying to forget calls me when he’s trying to be sarcastic to me. Asshole! That’s right, that Asshole who shall not be named! I think I’m going to be sick. My stomach churns something deadly. I need to find Crystal.
“No. I need to find my friend. Can you help me?”
The guy’s blond brows furrow. He’s no longer smiling or in a seductive state. “Why do you want to go find her? Are you trying to leave?”
Dur. Stupid. That would be the point. “I need to know she’s okay. Plus, she has my purse.”
His face softens. “Okay. Let’s go.”
He guides me through the crowd, sliding his hands down my back and kissing my neck when we approach a group of his friends. It’s weird. Almost as if he’s claiming me as his for the night. I have news for him: I’m not anyone’s for any night. Because as much as this was supposed to help me get over Graham, it only has me worrying about him more. What the hell is wrong with me?
I finally spot Crystal on a couch with my phone to her ear. I know it’s mine from the glittery rhinestone case. “What are you doing?” I ask.
She’s giggling. “I took care of something for you. Now you do me.” She hands me her phone. “Call Logan.”
“Um? What did you do for … ” I grab my phone from her and stare at the recent call log. Oh hell! She called Graham. What in God’s name did she say to him? Should I call back? No. I’ll worry about this later.
I sway a little as the guy I was dancing with pushes his hips into me. To say I’m a little annoyed with him would be putting it mildly. I drop down on the couch next to Crystal, who is still giggling. “Do it! Call him. Tell him what an asshole he is.”
“Okay.” I scroll to Logan and push ‘call.’ He answers after two rings.
“Hello?” He sounds groggy.
“Hey! Why do you—”
Crystal snatches the phone from me. “I love you. You stupid jerk. You just toy and toy with me. I hate you. I’m moving on with some sexy man. What’s your name?”
Guy I was dancing with says, “Sam.”
“Awesome. Sam and I are going to be going to his room now. Fuck off, Logan.”
My eyes widen. Logan is shouting something like, “Where are you?” as she lowers the phone and hangs up.
She punches my shoulder. “That will teach him.” She stands up and stumbles. Sam catches her. But she doesn’t look so good. She looks like she’s about to be sick. “I don’t feel so good.”
“Crystal, do you want to go home?”
She starts to nod but vomits all over Sam. He groans and pushes her into the couch. He looks disgusted, which is completely understandable. Then he marches off. Crystal hangs her head between her legs and continues to vomit.
“Crystal. It’s going to be okay.”
She stops long enough to look over at me. “I don’t think so. I feel funny. Like really wrong.”
“Okay.” It comes out calm, but I’m everything but calm. I’m freaking the hell out. Should I be calling 911? I decide to call the cab and help her outside. We wait on the sidewalk in the slightly chilled air. It feels good along my heated skin. Crystal huddles beside me dry-heaving. A silver car pulls up along the curb outside the house. A tall, hooded figure hops out of the driver’s side, leaving the car running, and rushes up to us.
Crystal clutches my arm and moans. “I think someone slipped me something. I only had two drinks.”
“Crystal! Red? What the hell?” Logan shouts at us.
“Logan, what are you doing?” I ask. How the hell did he find us?
“I’m here for her.” He points at Crystal. “What’s wrong with her?” He drops down so he’s eye level with her.
“I don’t know. She needs to get looked at or something . She’s been puking a lot. I wouldn’t kneel there if I were you.”
“Logan … I’m sorry.”
He brushes her hair from her face. “It’s okay. I got you. Come on, Red,” he says to me. “We’re going to the hospital.” He lifts Crystal up into his arms, and suddenly I’m jealous. Not because I want Logan or anything. But because he’s being so tender and caring. Graham used to be like that. Now … I don’t know. I just do not know. It’s so frustrating!
And you know what hurts the most? This stupid party was supposed to help me collect some notes for my assignment, and I didn’t get anything. Except that some guys become real jerks when they get a girl wasted and then can’t bother to take care of her. Yup. That’s what I’ve learned.
Chapter Fifteen
Graham
That call haunts me. The next morning I call Sarah, but she doesn’t answer. I guess she’s getting me back for all the times I avoided her.
Maybe I should stop by her house. Make sure she’s okay.
I contemplate this for about ten minutes, maybe twenty. So many scenarios play off in my head that by the time I do decide it’s been a while.
Once I’m dressed, I head out the door. I swing by her house, but no one is home. I go to her work. She’s not there either. Shit! It’s Saturday. I know she doesn’t have classes. Where the hell can she be?
Every dreadful thing that I can imagine stirs up. Thank you, AA, for the disturbing thoughts. I picture her burned from head to toe because she was stuck in that deathtrap she calls a car. Then my thoughts get more morbid tha
n this. I picture her crashed into a tree, blood spilling from her skull.
I need to find her.
Shaking the horrible images from my mind for a few seconds, I use the time to think. Where would Sarah be?
I try her phone again. It goes straight to voicemail. Usually I hang up. But I need her to call me.
“Hey. Hi. Um. Fuck. I hate these things. Sarah, I’m worried about you. Please call me. Please.”
I hang up. I sounded like a total dumbass. Oh well. Hopefully she calls.
In the meantime, I’ll drive back to the house and wait.
***
Mrs. Mayberry is standing by her mailbox when I pull into my driveway. Her bingo-group crones are next to her. She’s up to no good. Probably spreading around some foolish crap she heard, smearing someone’s name in the mud. As usual.
I throw my car in park, not bothering to pull it into the garage, and head to my own mailbox. Mrs. Mayberry’s high-pitched, ninny voice hits me. Grating on the last of my nerves. “So. A girl was poisoned, I tell you! I tell you these girls today bring it all on themselves. Chasing men around at parties. Looking like cheap whores in those dreadful things they call skirts. Sister Mary would have had our hides if she ever caught us walking around in something so short and showing off that much skin.” All the old women around her nod. “Why, it’s practically two snips away from becoming a swimsuit. And they wonder why men these days don’t show them any respect. Well, act like you deserve it and maybe you’ll get it, is what I say. Foolish girls.”
“Well, who was the girl?” one of her friends asks as I slowly make my way up the driveway and pretend to be interested in a stack of mail currently in my hands.
“You know that niece of the Issacs who moved in? With the criminal parents?”
All the ladies nod, and I stop dead in my tracks. “She and her friend were in the hospital. The Issacs’ girl was released, but the other is still there. My friend Nancy had to tell the paper all about it. But if you ask me, anyone who has those types of parents is bound to be a load of trouble. The girl probably deserved what she got.”
Graham (Scandalous Boys Book 2) Page 7