“I’m just going to stay here, Sophia. I have to wait for Ben anyway.”
“Oh!” Her eyes light up. “If you’re officially over the infamous Ben, I might have to see if his pictures do him justice or not.”
I manage a small smile at her. “He has a girlfriend.”
She snorts. “We’ll see.” I shake my head at her and she raises her hands and gives me her best innocent look. “I’m probably going to stay with Elle tonight and just get ready for Sam’s party at her house tomorrow, if that’s okay with you.”
I nod. “Sam said that you owe him another dance, so you better drag your own ass and Ben’s over there. You can bask in the glow of a hundred people tripping all over themselves to get closer to your boyfriend, the movie star, and I can try the skills of a good old Midwestern boy.”
Sophia leaves with a wave and a smile, and I crumple back onto the bed and lose myself in the tangles of thoughts in my head.
***
It’s hours later, but no time at all has passed. When the bell rings, I rush to the door and Ben is standing there with a sad smile for me. I fly into his arms and he closes them around me, stroking my hair.
I manage to get the memory out of me, in small spurts and long breaths and bits of anger. Ben doesn’t say much, but he holds my hand gently and lets me talk and not talk. It’s the same as it’s always been with him—safe.
I get past the worst of it, and he puts his face in his hands. “This is all my fault. Why didn’t we go to the police? My parents? Your mom? Why didn’t we tell someone?” His voice is angry and loud and he’s pacing across the room. I get up and wrap him into a hug.
“Because we were young and drunk and stupid and I told you I didn’t want to,” I say to him. “It’s not your fault. It’s not my fault. Bad things happen. To everyone. I wasn’t strong enough then to deal with any of it. I couldn’t even face it. I couldn’t remember. My dad had just died, and my mom was a mess and I was a mess and it would have been another thing on top of it.”
“Fuck, Hallie. He raped you.” He’s running his hand through his hair ceaselessly and I move my hand to quiet him.
“He did,” I say softly.
“How can you say it’s for the best?”
“I don’t even know who he is. I can’t remember. I can’t even remember his goddamn face.” My voice is angrier now, and Ben raises his to match mine.
“They could have investigated, talked to people at the party and figured it out. I should have called the police the second I saw you there. Shit.”
“Stop. Stop blaming yourself.”
He’s lost in thought. “I was so careful with you. I never wanted you to have to…Now, all of this…” He catches his words before they slip out, and there’s a guilty look on his face. “That asshole.”
“He has to live with what he did,” I say. “And I have to live with what he did. But I have the choice to be a victim or not. And I’m not going to be. Certainly not now. I’ve made it this far.”
“I’m so sorry.” His words are simple. They’re accompanied by a long look and there’s love there, the kind that lasts lifetimes.
“I know. Me, too.”
We sit on the couch for a long time and neither of us says anything. There’s no pity lingering in the air, because he knows me well enough to know that wouldn’t help, that it would only cause more pain. But there is relief. In releasing that burden, the memory that I hadn’t even known existed, some of the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders.
“Promise me that you’ll talk about it. To someone else, someone who can help you work through what happened to you.” Ben is serious and his eyes are intense on me.
“Like therapy?” I grimace and he smiles.
“Like therapy. Or a support group. Something. I’ll help you find someone near your school.”
Greenview suddenly seems a million miles away. He’s right. I’m good at talking. Maybe therapy wouldn’t be all bad. “I promise.” I grimace again and he tickles me. “I’m going to be okay,” I tell him, and I’m certain of it.
I am going to be okay.
I don’t know whether I believe happiness is a choice or not, whether you’re exactly as happy as you make up your mind to be. I believe that there’s something like luck, and despite the awful memory creeping in my consciousness, I’ve been pretty damn lucky. There are people who care about me deeply, who would fly across the country at a moment’s notice, and there was a boy in a hotel room who wanted me to go to Prague…
“How did you remember?” Ben asks softly. I knew he was going to ask the question, even though I’ve tried to figure out a way to avoid the subject of Chris. I offer a vague answer.
“I met someone.”
“And he was going to rape you?” Ben’s tensed with anger again and I calm him down immediately.
“God, no, Ben, no, no, nothing like that.” I try to find the words. “It was something he said. It was the same words as that awful party, and something about those words and where I was…”
He understands immediately. “You were…”
I nod, too quickly. We talk about everything, even girls and boys and crushes (except for my enormous, former—thank God—crush on him, but I think he probably figured that out a long time ago), but sex has always been taboo. There has to be a line somewhere.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Oh.” He shifts his eyes down for a minute and then looks back up to me.
“I just ran away from him. That’s when you called. He’ll think I’m some total spaz.”
“You are not a spaz. And he’ll understand.” Ben’s voice is strained now. “If he’s good enough for you.”
“Too good for me.”
“Impossible.”
“You haven’t met him yet,” I say, letting out a little laugh.
“He’s not too good for you.”
We lapse into silence again, but my feet are on solid ground again. “Thank you for coming, Ben.”
“Hey,” he says, grinning at me. “Always. Plus, you haven’t been picking up my fucking phone calls. How else was I supposed to get you to talk to me? I retract my previous statement. Maybe you are a spaz.”
I gasp. “There have been a few times when you haven’t picked up my calls, either. Alison? Grace? Eve? With Eve, there was at least a three week period when I couldn’t get you on the phone to save my life. Don’t I deserve a couple of weeks of no phone calls?”
I decide not to mention my jealousy towards Susan, my fears about losing him, the feelings that had dominated my thoughts for weeks and were now little more than vague memories. Even if my feelings really have changed, I need to save myself the embarrassment of admitting to a giant-sized crush. He doesn’t need to know.
“I always pick up your phone calls.” He tugs at my hair. “Do I get to meet the mystery man while we’re here?”
I groan. “I totally bolted. I have no idea how I’m going to explain.”
Ben nods quickly.
“Anyways, it’s not really anything serious. Really.” But it could be.
I think he knows it’s a lie. “You don’t have to tell him about why you ran away, you know.”
I sigh. I don’t know if I can handle the pity. Not from Chris. “Yeah.”
“I need the chance to grill the new boyfriend, though. Don’t rob me of that, Hals.”
I managed a little laugh. “We have to go to this stupid party anyways, so maybe I can see if he’ll meet us there. And you can finally meet Sophia.”
Ben’s looking around the apartment and whistling. “The famous Sophia, huh? Who lives in this palace?”
“I know, right? It’s a pretty far cry from the hand-knitted afghans in my living room.”
“Hey, I could use a sugar mama. I’m pretty sick of ramen.”
“Sophia’s probably not the best option,” I add, laughing at the thought of the two of them together. “Be careful. If she gets her claws in you, you’ll have a hell of a time digging them
out.”
He puts his hands up in surrender. “Fair enough.” He looks at his phone. “What time is the party?”
“Probably like 10?”
“Well, Miss Talks-too-much, it’s already 8:30.” He takes in my tear-stained face and the blue dress that I had been wearing the night before. “You may want to get cleaned up.” He wipes my cheek with his finger, smiling. “And as much as I hate to say it, you should probably text Mr. Wonderful.”
I throw the pillow on the couch at him. “There’s the Ben I know.” I get up from the couch and wrap him in a giant hug.
“Thanks for saving my life again,” I whisper. “Even if I am a jerk who never picks up her phone.”
“Saving lives is my job. Two summers of lifeguarding, remember?” His voice is light, but he’s holding on to me tightly. I need him to know what it means to me that he came.
“Really, Ben. Thank you.”
“Anything for you, Hals.”
Chapter 24
Chris
I haven’t spoken to her in a day. It feels like an eternity.
Even though I’ve had to stop myself from rushing over to Sophia’s apartment and throwing my arms around her, I kept my distance. No matter what happened in that hotel room, she wasn’t going to take well to my coming in and sweeping her up like a helpless child. She was too independent, too proud. So I settled for going crazy in my head instead.
I managed to smile through the press conference, to pump Alan’s hand. I even appeased Marcus by doing what felt like endless interviews with movie magazines and radio shows. When I had left the studio’s New York office, there had been a dozen photographers or so, snapping my picture and forcing me to duck into the waiting car that rushed me to my apartment. Hallie would have gotten a real kick out of the flashbulbs, I think.
I’m oscillating between rage at the thought of her and someone else, someone else that maybe she loved, and determination to hold on to her. I had run through every moment with her, anything that said that she belonged to someone else, and I couldn’t find anything. Maybe it was a giant misunderstanding. Maybe there was something she wasn’t telling me.
Maybe she was actually an alien life form. It really didn’t matter.
Nothing worked without her there. I needed her. Just when I had been about to break, to sprint over to Sophia’s to see her, cameras and pride and foolish independence aside, my phone buzzes. Knowing that it’s probably Marcus texting me for the thousandth time and foolishly praying that it’s not, I grab it.
All of the words are spelled out, and I smile before I even try to decipher meaning.
I messed up. I’m sorry. I’ll be at Sam’s later for a little bit. Can we talk there? Or somewhere?
Whatever she needs to say, I need to hear it. My response is automatic.
Ur perfect. B there waiting for u.
It takes me an agonizingly long time to get a car arranged. I think about just grabbing a cab, but Marcus had warned me that the paparazzi were going to be crazy for a few days, trying to get pictures of the new James Ross. I’m pacing back and forth in my apartment, wearing a hole in Diana’s favorite rug, when the car service calls.
I’m rushing out of the building when I get hit by a barrage of flashbulbs. The dozens of people shouting my name tell me that my life has irrevocably changed.
“What are you, famous or something?” the driver asks as I hop into the back of the black sedan. He’s looking at me in the rearview mirror and I shrug.
“Just a guy trying to get to a party.”
He makes a little noise. “Yes, sir.”
I’m looking back at all of the cameras. I know that I can’t do it without her, the press and movie and my dad and sister. I have to get her to come to Prague. I have to get her to be with me.
Mercifully, the cameras don’t follow me to Sam’s building and I’m able to sneak in past the doorman. The apartment is already filled with people and I shove past someone to get to the kitchen. Where could she be? I comb the crowd for a glimpse of her hair, her face, but even though I’m rushing through the rooms like a madman, there’s no sign of her anywhere.
Memories of her alone on a balcony and of us dancing on the roof flash through me. There’s only one place she could be. I break through the crowd and press the button on the elevator, willing it to go faster and busting through the doors when I get up there.
I don’t see anything at first, because it’s dark and I’m frantically checking the corner where we had danced but then I hear her voice coming from the far side of the roof, near the opposite corner.
I turn to find her, trying to keep myself from calling out her name with all of the desperation I feel. Her back is to me and she’s looking out over the city, and I have to take a deep breath because just the sight of long curls trickling over her shoulders turn my knees into jelly.
There’s another voice. The world slows down.
He spins her around and their heads are so close that their foreheads are touching. He’s wrapping an arm around her, and it’s a possessive gesture. Neither of them sees me, because, I realize suddenly, they’re wrapped up in each other.
His body is tense and he’s blocking my view of her face, but I can tell that she’s nodding at him, snuggled comfortably in his grip. He touches her face, brushing her hair away with his fingers. Jealousy courses through me when I see the look on his face, one that I know all too well.
He’s looking at her as if no one else had existed in the history of the world.
I feel the tap of long fingernails on my back. Sophia’s at my side, winding her arm through mine, but I push it away impatiently. She opens her mouth to say something, but I shake my head violently at her, willing her to be quiet. I stare again. He’s embracing her now and her arms are around his back, moving up and down. It’s intimate and she’s curling herself inside of his arms. Like she curled into mine.
I’m blind with rage.
It’s my turn to flee. Sophia follows me and we ride in silence, my body shaking with anger. I’m full of single-minded determination to wipe the entire thing permanently from my brain. I head directly to Sam’s kitchen and reach for the first bottle I see. Tequila. Perfect. I take long swigs, but Sophia’s hand stops me from taking another.
“Stop it.” I grab the bottle from her.
I’ve taken four or five in less than a minute and my head is already spinning, either from the sight of the girl that I’m wildly, madly in love with, embracing someone else or from the alcohol. It doesn’t matter which one. I can’t do this. I can’t watch her with someone else. I don’t want explanations. I can’t look at her face without it breaking me.
“You’re not sharing,” Sophia protests, running her fingers over my arm. She tilts the bottle back to her lips and I stare at them, at her.
I take another and slump into a chair in the kitchen.
“Let’s go somewhere where we can talk,” Sophia says. “I’ll try to help you figure something out. I know Hallie better than practically anyone, anyways.”
I don’t trust her, but the alcohol makes everything fuzzy so I don’t say a word. I do, however, allow her to take my arm and lead me from the kitchen.
She drags me into an unoccupied bedroom and we’re sitting on the bed. I pick up one of the books from the table and throw it at the wall. Sophia’s pinning my arms to my sides and I’m shaking her off, trying to free myself from her grasp. “Jesus, Chris. Someone’s going to come in here.”
“Who is he?” I ignore Sophia’s warning and pick up another book. It makes a satisfying thud as it falls to the floor opposite me.
“Ben.”
“I fucking could have figured that out for myself, Sophia. Who is he to her?”
She hesitates and takes a step away from me, eyeing the objects in the room. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
I nod, but she still hesitates for a moment. “It’s an old story, Chris. Girl meets boy. Under dramatic circumstances, something about being trapped in a clo
set, they become best friends. I’m surprised she hasn’t told you.” There were a lot of things that she hadn’t told me.
Sophia sighs. “Everyone knows that guys and girls can never be friends. It’s a proven fact. Someone always falls for the other person. She happened to fall in love with him first. Cue years of unrequited love.” Sophia’s words break me, but I tell her to continue with my eyes. “It’s the same thing that always happens. The only thing that ever changes is the ending.”
Hallie loved someone else. My thoughts are jumbled and I still don’t understand. But it doesn’t solve the puzzle of her running from me in the hotel.
“Why now? What is he doing here?”
Sophia shakes her head at me. “Guys are always blind about their friends until someone else enters the picture.”
I was the someone else. I’m staring at her, so she continues talking.
“Apparently, I’m going to have to spell it out. She used you. She probably didn’t even know that she was doing it, but it’s a classic move and one that always works. She stops calling, he gets impatient, finally realizes that his friend Hallie is hot and flies across the country to profess his love.”
“So, they’re together?” I need to know.
“They’re together.” She looks at me curiously. “I didn’t know that things were so serious between the two of you.”
I give her a stony stare. “Things are not serious, apparently.”
“Well, that’s good, because you really don’t want to fuck with that kind of history. End of story.”
There’s something else that she’s not telling me. “What did she say about me?”
“Honestly, Chris, not much. You know, the usual things. ‘Chris was a good time, a nice distraction. He’s a really good guy. He’s going to find someone perfect for him. It was never anything serious for me, you know.’” Her voice is raised slightly in a spot-on imitation of Hallie’s voice, and it pains me to hear it. “It’s a good story to tell her friends when they go to see your movies. ‘I had a fling with James Ross,’ that kind of thing.”
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