“No, honey,” she said patiently. “He just thinks that since you and I are both females, we’d connect better.” She pushed her hair behind her ear and fiddled with her whistle. “Listen, a few of the girls have mentioned you don’t hang out with them much, so after the meet this week, make some plans. Go out with them this weekend. You’ve been in classes for over a month, it’ll be good for you. Try to forget about the serious weight you drag around on your back.”
“Stephanie, really?” Shoving my hand on my hip, I wanted to stomp my foot.
“Really. Or maybe go back to therapy?”
“I’ll go, I’ll go,” I spat out, then turned to run toward campus. “Please don’t threaten me,” I called out over my shoulder.
After shoving both welcome and unwelcome thoughts of Tiberius to the back of my muddled mind, I killed it at the meet. It was just pre-season, but our whole team was at the top of their game, and we were just getting started. Sadly, I was only able to keep my jumbled thoughts at bay for so long, and while cooling down and showering, my head was a mess all over again.
I hadn’t heard from him, nor did I expect to. It was hard to imagine Tiberius was going through all his mother’s precious memories, clothing, and personal items on his own. I didn’t suspect he had anyone to help him, and I wondered what that was like. I’d been raised with nannies and maids and gardeners and pool boys. If something happened to my parents, one of the hired help was more than likely already heftily paid in advance to clean up their shit. That thought alone should probably sadden me, but I didn’t want any of my parents’ crap.
Nothing from their house held any value to me. Not even them.
But Tiberius was weak with grief and he had to travel across several states—by bus, I assumed—to do alone what someone else should be doing with him. I’d considered texting him, but that didn’t feel right, especially with how things ended right before he left. I was causing him more stress, so I figured there was some merit to Stephanie’s suggestion to hang with the team.
Reluctantly, I finished showering and slipped on boot-cut jeans, a low-cut tank, and a dark gray off-the-shoulder 80s-style sweatshirt. Not exactly an “in” style, but neutral enough. I never paid attention to style trends, especially among the rich socialite crowd with their Lilly Pulitzer pink flamingos.
I dried my hair, curling the ends with a round brush, and put some effort into my makeup. I was going to a barbecue and bonfire at some off-campus housing, and I wanted to get it right. No need to embarrass my teammates; I’d already done that enough with my actions.
Ginny wasn’t going with me. She was fully involved with Bryce, and the little bookworm was barely leaving his bedroom, but she definitely wasn’t reading in there.
I grabbed my phone, a tube of lip gloss, my ID, and some emergency cash, and shoved them all in my back pocket before heading out. The team had arranged to meet by the bus stop so we could ride over to College Avenue together. I was the last to arrive and the bus pulled up a minute after me, which was a blessing since it cut down on the small talk required.
We got off the bus at the stop nearest to where the party was being held, and then walked a few blocks back to a housing development nestled against the woods with a pool, tennis courts, and a clubhouse. It was mostly grad students and undergrads with money who rented or owned there. As luck would have it, one of the guys on the tennis team was swimming in cash, and he was hosting this little soirée. Apparently everyone who was anyone was there.
Making our way to get a drink took over thirty minutes since the girls needed to stop every few seconds to kiss someone’s cheek and declare, “Oh. Em. Gee. You look amazing!”
Finally, I skirted past the social logjam toward the backyard and grabbed a bottle of beer. The party was pure class, not a keg in sight, and some huge beefy guy was manning the grill. “Howling for You” by the Black Keys played in the background. God, they loved those guys at this school. They were like the resident band, and a party could not be had without their tunes.
Dusk may have just fallen but several girls were dancing barefoot in the grass, at least two sheets to the wind already. As I surveyed the crowd, I wasn’t surprised to find several people staring at me, mostly people who’d been in my French section, probably checking my sanity.
My mood soured; I needed liquid courage and a lot of it. I chugged the beer I was holding and looked around for my teammates. One was cuddled up with a football player, another was playing with some guy’s hair and whispering in his ear, and a third was doing shots by the unlit fire pit.
After tossing my empty bottle, I plucked another before moving on. The alcohol went right to my head, creating a slight buzz that whirred around my chaotic brain and heart. I chatted with Brian from the men’s team, rescued Nadine from the guy she’d been whispering to earlier, and eventually found myself on my fourth beer as the last vestiges of sunlight disappeared and the host went through an elaborate fire-lighting show.
Flames licked all around the pit, casting a glow on the night, and the volume of the music kicked up a few notches. Inhibitions were shed as the crowd started drinking and dancing more, and the tunes switched to rap and hip-hop. Shirts came off and girls raced around the property in bikini tops, which I thought was ridiculous considering it was fall in Ohio, but to each her own.
I wasn’t in the mood to dance, but I felt good. I’d been so used to spending time by myself over the last year that I was a little overwhelmed by all the activity and needed a little space, some air, so I walked toward the far end of the yard. At the edge of the property, I made my way into the edge of the woods and leaned against a tree, taking in the twinkling pinpricks set against the night sky.
A noise rustled behind me, startling me, and something slithered up my arm. I must have jumped several feet in the air, barely holding on to my beer.
“Hey there, baby,” a guy’s voice murmured in the darkness. His breath smelled like weed and stale liquor, and his consonants and vowels slurred together like an accordion sliding closed.
Shutting my eyes, I willed him to go away but said nothing.
“What you up to, out here all alone, baby?” he asked.
“Go away, Logan.” Moving from the tree, I prepared to walk away when he shoved me up against the bark, pressing his whole stinky frame against me. “Mmm, you smell good enough to eat,” he said, breathing alcohol fumes into my face.
The beer and the PowerBar I ate earlier engaged in a nasty tango in my stomach at the smell. Grossed out, I turned my head, wanting to barf.
When I started to protest, his tongue slammed into my mouth. His erection digging into my thigh, he brought his knee between my legs, spreading them wide so he could grind on me while he waged war with my lips.
I couldn’t breathe; my lungs were burning more than during any race. Fire from the pit licked upward to the sky, and I felt the same burn in my legs. They wanted to move, to race, to get the hell out of there, but Logan was strong. Not only was his body wedged against me, but he’d wrestled my hands high above my head.
With no other option, I lifted my foot and brought it down hard on his.
“Shit! You little cunt bitch,” he shouted, driving my hands harder and higher above my head.
I did it again, this time with my other leg. I drew my foot up and let it come down as hard as I could on his other foot. Hoping I’d break a bone so he’d be off the team, I quickly brought my original foot up and slammed down again.
“Cunt!” he muttered. “That’s right, I’m gonna fuck your sloppy cunt and teach you a lesson.”
He drove me so hard into the tree that I was flung to the left, my legs swinging out and back. Flailing, I tried to kick at Logan’s shins as his mouth tackled mine. Bile rose up, causing my throat to burn as I desperately tried to use my pelvis to shove him off, but that only acted against me. He rubbed his dirty cock on me every time I moved.
Why wasn’t anyone worried about me? Looking for me? Glancing in this direction? With my h
ands trapped, my legs were my only weapons, and I desperately kicked again.
When I tried to scream for help, Logan trapped my wrists with one hand while he moved the other over my mouth, squeezing my cheeks with his harsh grip and bruising my lips. Just as I closed my eyes, admitting defeat, I felt him gone and gasped for fresh air as his weight disappeared. Too afraid I was imagining it, I kept my eyes glued shut.
“Yo, motherfucker, get the fuck offa her!”
Only then did I open them, and it was like a tornado had landed in front of me.
Logan was on the ground, held down by one big guy while another rained punches on his face. Blood was spurting everywhere as one of my rescuers said, “Mel, it’s enough. Leave the scum to whine in peace.” They each landed one stiff kick to Logan’s gut before stepping away.
I bent forward and this time, I actually did barf. Emptying my stomach of beer and protein bars, I continued to dry heave even when it was empty. Tears dropped unbidden from my eyes, mixing with the awful pile of vomit.
I didn’t want to lift my head and face my saviors. Earlier this week, I’d seen them as enemies, but now they were busy rescuing my ass.
Eventually, I had to look up. Jamel kept his distance, standing vigil with one eye on Logan, the other on the party. The other guy—I didn’t know this one—inched toward me.
“You all right?” he whispered, his warm breath forming puffy clouds in the chilly air. His deep voice was smooth like velvet, and coated my soul with a layer of honey. “Just nod your head, okay? Are you hurt?”
Chilly waves rippled up and down my spine—shock or fear, probably a combination of both. I was still speechless, wanting more of his soothing voice.
He reached out a hand, and I couldn’t help but flinch. “It’s okay, I’m just checking on you. Making sure you’re not hurt.” He ran his hand down my arm and took my hand, encouraging me to stand up next to him. Once I was on my feet, he said, “I’m Trey, another friend of Ty’s.”
He stood with my hand in his, looking at me, and I nodded. Through blurry eyes, I finally recognized him as the one wearing the JUST DO IT sweats near the townhouses. He was long and lean, his hair buzzed short around his face, highlighting dark eyes and long lashes. Those lashes were so beautiful and full, I was mesmerized for a moment. And slightly jealous.
“Anything hurt?” he asked.
I shook my head, feeling a little weak. Before I knew it the sky was falling, the ground was closing up, someone was lifting me, and then I was in someone’s arms, being carried.
My head spinning, I heard a mumbled, “What the fuck are we supposed to do now, man?”
“I’m gonna take her back with us.” That was Trey, his words sprinkled with chocolate and amaretto. I wanted to taste them.
“Bro, we can’t be toting a white piece around, carrying her back to our place.” That was Mel. As in Jamel, who had insulted me every time I’d seen him.
“Well, I’m not about to leave her. You know Ty likes her. She cares for him, and she just got assaulted. So, she’s coming.”
Wiggling, I tried to get out of Trey’s grasp as he carried me away from the scene, through several backyards. “Can I get down,” I barely rasped out.
Finally, he set me down next to an enormous silver SUV and opened the door. “Get in, we’ll talk in there,” he said. Trey helped me in the backseat and hopped in the driver’s side while Jamel walked over to the passenger door.
“Thank you.” My words came out gurgled. My throat was dry from gagging, and my head still spun slightly from all the commotion.
Mel slammed the car door and turned to me. “You all right?”
“Yeah.” It came out weak, but it was the truth. “He didn’t get too far, thanks to you.”
“You gonna tell the cops or what?”
I shook my head. “I don’t need any more gossip about me here, so no. I’m okay.”
“You need a doctor or shit like that?” Jamel was firing off questions while Trey pounded on his phone.
“No.” I looked down at my hands twisting in my lap. “Just a shower and my bed.”
Trey finally spoke up. “Not gonna go there tonight.”
“What the fuck, man?” Jamel protested.
“Just texted with Ty, he says she stays with us. That asshole could come back, she needs to be protected.”
“Goddamn it, that fucker. Thank fuck he can ball,” Jamel said, slamming the dash with his hand.
“Really, I don’t need to,” I croaked out, shaking my head.
Trey threw the car into drive and off we went. Pulling into the steep lane down to the townhouses, we stopped in front of a unit past Ty’s, parked, and Trey swung my door open. Gently grabbing my arm, he guided me to the house.
“This is Mel’s place. He’s gonna keep an eye on you, okay? Ty’s gonna catch a bus back tomorrow and be here as soon as he can.” He squeezed my arm and ran back to the car, leaving me with Jamel.
It was going to be a long night.
Jamel opened the door and said, “After you.”
I walked in, taking in the testosterone-fueled chaos inside. Multiple TVs and gaming systems lined the far wall, and the huge couch opposite was every teenage boy’s wet dream. There was a Gatorade machine in the kitchen and a giant heap of basketball shoes by the door. High school and prep school jerseys were tacked to the walls, apparently meant to be decor.
“Thanks, but this isn’t necessary,” I said to Jamel, breaking the awkward silence.
He shrugged. “It’s what we do, the team, I mean. Even if I don’t agree that you’re the lady for Ty, we take care of each other. You wanna shower?” he asked, his usual laser focus directed at me.
Uncomfortable at his suggestion, I glanced around me, unable to get out much more than an unintelligible mumble.
“It’s fine,” he assured me with a frown. “I’m not gonna look or hurt you. Got a girl and a sister back home, got my hookups here. I’m cool.” He walked toward a closet, rubbing his hand across his smooth head, and pulled out a large navy towel.
“Here.” He beckoned for me to follow. After leading me toward the bathroom, he opened the door and said, “I’m gonna be out there playing games, so you do what ya need to do.”
I nodded and locked the door behind me. After turning the water to its hottest setting, I slowly undressed, all my energy suddenly gone. The adrenaline had worn off, and I was nothing but a loose sack of bones. With my clothes in a pile on the counter, I stepped into the shower and let the scalding water burn my skin, hoping it washed away the pain and stink of the night. Salty tears mixed with the water and the AXE body wash I kept squeezing onto my arms and legs.
Leaning back into the water, I closed my eyes as I washed my hair, trying to determine if I’d led Logan on at all. Did I do anything?
No. The answer was no. I didn’t do a thing to make him think I liked him.
He should get into trouble, but being beat half to death would have to do because if I went to the authorities, my name would be dragged through the mud again. Even Jamel thought I was a stupid skank. He’d said as much during our first meeting, and his reactions summed it up this round.
Toweling off, I couldn’t stop thinking what Tiberius would think. Would he think I encouraged Logan? Shaking my head, I didn’t allow myself to go there. I would get through this like I’d survived everything else.
As soon as the door clicked open and I walked out of the bathroom, Jamel yelled from the main room, “Go to sleep, Tingly. Take my room. I left a T-shirt in there.”
His tone brooked no argument, and I didn’t want another confrontation. So I did what he said and crawled into Jamel’s bed wearing his T-shirt, but thinking of someone else.
“Tingly. Tingly, you up?”
I felt my shoulder being shaken and heard my name on repeat, and then I felt the mattress next to me sink a little. Jumping up with alarm, I hit my head on the headboard.
“Ouch!”
“Oh shit, Rex. You okay?”
Without taking my eyes off the shadow in front of me, I felt around on the nightstand for my phone. When I pressed the HOME button, the screen illuminated, reading ten o’clock in the morning.
Panicked, I grabbed my forehead. “Practice! I slept through practice.”
“It’s Saturday,” he said and reached toward me, hesitating with each inch. Finally, his fingers landed in the loose strands of my hair and smoothed them away from my face.
I took a long inhale before mentally putting the facts together. I was in Jamel’s bed after Logan attacked me. It was Saturday because I went out with my teammates the night before. And Tiberius had been in New Jersey, but now he was here. Massaging my temple with his large calloused hand.
Squinting at him, I asked, “How are you here?”
“I came back when I heard.” His hand stilled, but didn’t move from my hair.
“But how? Why?”
He inched closer. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah.” It was just a whisper, but I wasn’t afraid of him. Not Tiberius.
“How?” he repeated. “By bus all night. Why? I can’t answer that. Just because I’m a good guy. I like you. You got hurt. All of the above.”
“I’m fine,” I stated matter-of-factly, but then a single tear betrayed me. It slid down my cheek before dropping onto Jamel’s black T-shirt.
“I know you’re okay,” he said softly. “You’re tough, I get that. But, shit, if the boys hadn’t been keeping an eye on you, I don’t know what that ass woulda done.”
His blue eyes searched mine, and for a moment, I wondered what he saw inside my brown ones. Did he see fear? Glimpses of my past? Or maybe a glimmer of my future?
“Keeping an eye on me?”
“You’re my girl, friend or more, and that means the boys keep an eye out. Though I suspect this time, they were hoping you fucked up. But doesn’t matter because when you needed them, they were there.”
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