“Tonight, we'll finish this tonight.” His mouth crashes into mine, tongue plunging between my lips as he holds me firm against the wall. A kiss full of the frustration and desire.
I capture his bottom lip between my teeth and suck, arms wrapping around him and gripping him to me. His groan vibrates into my mouth.
“Damn baby, you're going to kill me.” He barely pulls away, hand sliding through my hair, his voice breathless and raspy. “If you want to make it to class, leave now.”
I teeter on the edge, his deep breaths enticing me to stay, but I can't. I know I can't. “Tonight.”
“I'll pick you up at seven.” He steps away, nodding down the hall for me to leave. “Wear that skirt.”
The slickness between my thighs makes me wish I'd chosen underwear that morning.
* * *
Drew’s gaze travels over me as I slide into his truck. “You hungry?”
“Yeah,” I answer as I put on my seatbelt.
“What do you want? I was thinking we could get delivery and watch a movie back at my place tonight.”
My stomach clenches in expectation, not for the food, but for what we might do. I know we need to talk, but I want to enjoy our relationship some first. “Do you like Chinese food?”
“Yup.” He's focused on the road, making the turn off campus. “Hunan House Delivers. I'll call when we get to my place. Now, lift your skirt.”
I almost missed it, he'd spoken it in the same matter of fact tone, but then he turns to me with a wicked grin, and his eyes flick to my skirt and back to the road.
“You said you'd show me.” He reaches over the console and slides his hand over my thigh, along the smooth fabric of the skirt.
“We're in the car,” I point out like it matters.
“The trucks high up, no one can see in, and I only want to see, for now.” His eyes spark with a challenge and he returns his hand to the steering wheel.
Heated blood rushes to my face, but I gather my skirt in my fingers, raising it inch by inch, encouraged by his pleased expression. His eyelids drop as my skirt lifts.
He takes in a breath when my skirt reaches the very top of my thighs, revealing my lack of panties. “Now open them for me.”
He glances back and forth from the road to me, but those brief glances are heated and hungry and make me squeeze my thighs together at the ache they cause. But I part my legs, just a bit, and shift slightly in the seat to give him a better view.
“Damn baby,” he says in an exhale. “Stay just like that. I'm imagining all the things I could do to you. The different ways I could make you come.” He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “My fingers, my tongue…”
I clench my legs together, easing the need building there and let the skirt settle a little lower on my thighs.
“How do you feel?” He clears his throat. “Are you sore from yesterday?”
I shake my head, any pain overshadowed by the pulsing desire taking over.
“Good.” He slows his truck as he approaches the house.
TJ and someone else are walking to a car in the driveway.
Drew lets out a sigh and pulls into the spot next to the car. “At least they're leaving so we'll have the house to ourselves.”
I reach for the door and crash like I've been dropped into an icy lake. I can't breathe and everything hurts. The driver isn't looking at me; he's turned, saying something to TJ as he gets into the passenger seat. But I know him. It's Chris Kelley—Coach Kelley—and a thousand icicles form in my veins, tearing me open when he glances my way as he pulls out of the parking spot.
I scramble back, away from my window. I don't know if he saw me, if he recognized me, because I chickened out. I'd dreamed about seeing him—half nightmares—about what I'd say if I saw him, how I'd confront him. But, instead, I hid.
My limbs shake; needle pricks covering my skin as I try to breathe. The car's gone from site, but I'm still lost in the shock, in the torrent of memories he caused.
Then Drew is there, in front of me, pulling me to the edge of the passenger seat, breaking through my terrible thoughts. “…What the fuck?”
I slide out of the truck, into his arms, only to pull away the second I'm steady on my feet, looking around for what to do now. “I want to go home.”
“What?” He drops his arm that's reaching for me.
“I can't stay here.” I wrap my arms around myself, unable to stop the shivers racking my body.
“Why? What the hell is going on?”
“How do you know him? Why was he here?” So many answers fly through my head, each one more painful than the last.
“Who?” He takes a careful step forward with narrowed eyes.
I take a few shaky breaths and another large step back, away from him, as I gesture down the road. “Coach Kelley.”
He shakes his head and swipes his hand over his hair. “The guy TJ left with? Is that who you're talking about?” He continues when I nod, “I don't know him, not really. Who is he to you?”
I press my fingers over my eyes, struggling to calm myself. “Are they coming back?”
He moves too quick and surrounds me before I even open my eyes. “Come inside. Talk to me.” His hands move up and down my back as he pulls me into his chest. “I'll make tea or something stronger if you want. Just calm down, and talk to me.”
“But are they coming back?” I rest my forehead against his chest. My erratic heart steadies some as I breathe him in.
“Probably not, but it doesn't matter. I'm with you, nothing will happen. You have to tell me what's wrong, though.” He leads me inside, keeping his arm tight around me.
We pass through the kitchen and living room. He closes us in his bedroom and pulls me to the bed, holding me in his arms as he sits against the headboard.
“Nobody will come in here. You can relax.” His fingers are light as they run through my hair, over my back.
And I do relax, little by little. My bones stop shaking, and I can take even breaths, but there's still a crushing weight on my chest.
“Do you want something to drink?” His voice vibrates from his chest, against my ear.
I shake my head, not wanting either of us to move yet.
“Who is he?”
His question is like barbwire constricting my heart. I close my eyes against the pain. “He was a gym teacher at my school. And the football coach.”
His fingers still. “He was the high school coach?”
I nod, unsure why it sounds like he knows something. “Why is he here?”
“He…he's just around.”
I pull back to look at him, sitting up on his bed.
He lets me slide from his arms but grips my hand before I can pull away completely. “It's not something I'm involved in. I don't interfere, and I can't talk about it.”
I nod, understanding the need for secrets.
“He's not around often, though. But, Brook, why did you freak out?”
Freak out. I drop my head with shame. I freaked out instead of confronting him like I wanted to, like I need to. “He was part of it all.”
“The rumors?”
I nod.
“Your sister?”
I nod, a tear trailing down my face. “She loved him, maybe she still does. I don't know.” I look up to him. “I didn't know that. I thought I was helping her.”
“What happened?” He's so quiet. So calm. And I release it all. Unable to pull back once I start.
“He’d throw parties for the team. London was always invited. I knew something, even when I was in middle school. I knew something was off with it. It just felt wrong. But with him as the coach, the team was winning, and the town loved him. Senior boys were actually being recruited to colleges. And London…” I take a breath. “I told you she’d been messed up after the accident—emotional and angry—well, it started to get better. I knew she was doing drugs. I thought just smoking weed, but I thought it couldn't be bad since it actually made her nice to me again. When I sta
rted high school, I still wasn't invited to the parties; freshmen usually weren’t since it was the varsity team only. But I saw then, the way London was always around his office outside the locker rooms. She was a junior at the time. But a lot of students were always in and out of his office; everyone thought he was so great. I thought I was just being paranoid, or jealous.”
I drop my eyes to my hands, I had been jealous. Jealous of the way he teased her. It reminded me of our dad.
“But my sophomore year, he was my gym teacher, and I started to see more. His class was more like social time. There'd always be some sport to play or track to run, but he let us just stand and talk if we wanted. He was more like a student than teacher. All the guys, they called me little Shaw or London's sister, except him. He was the only one that called me Brooklyn. And then mid football season, he actually invited me to one of the football parties. I remember London took me with her, I was hoping it would help us to become closer, like some of the other sisters I knew.” I shake my head, dismissing that dream. “But once I got there, I wanted to leave. Everyone was… not themselves. And it was more than being drunk. It scared me.”
I could picture the scene, and realized it was probably similar to the party he met Tatum at. And he had been younger.
“London was pissed and took me home, warning me not to spoil it for anyone else. That I was invited because they thought they could trust me.”
“But you told?” He guesses.
I glance at him, but there's no judgment there, only a calm encouragement.
“No, I didn't, not at first.” I take a deep breath for the rest. “But, like, two weeks later, after another win and London goes to another party, I find her passed out on our front lawn. And she's a mess, covered in vomit and bruises on her legs and arms. And…” My stomach hurts, the same way it did that morning. “I didn't think she was alive at first. Our mother wasn't home, yet. She worked nights at a nursing home. And I panicked. I called 911, and then our mom. They all arrived at once, her, the ambulance, the police. And I told them where I knew she had been. I told them who I thought had given her drugs. I told them what I saw before.”
“Was your sister okay?”
“She had to get her stomach pumped, but yeah she was okay. She denied being at Coach Kelley's house, though. She named some other friends, and they agreed with her. Everyone said I was making up the stories about the party. Even some parents defended the parties and said they go to them, and it's nothing but pizza and soda. They said I…” I can't voice the rumors and continue with the facts. “But the school suspended him while they looked into it, and it ruined the rest of the football season. Everyone blamed me. Especially the team, especially the ones that were counting on being recruited. I shouldn't have said I knew anything, but I was scared.”
“You were trying to help her.”
I nod. “But as the year went on, and he resigned and disappeared, it all got worse. No one forgot, and for every player that didn't get a scholarship to their dream school, I got punished in some way. And my sister was the worse. She gave them any information she could so they could make disgusting rumors. I started skipping most days, not wanting to face anyone, even the teachers. And then right after graduation, a group surrounded me in the stairwell at school, seniors who shouldn't have been in school anymore and London was part of them.”
He tenses and grips my hand, but he remains silent.
“They only pushed me around, but the things they were saying, threatening…” I close my eyes, pushing the fear down before it breaks me. Nothing had happened, I had to remind myself. “A custodian walked in and stopped them. But nothing came of it because they didn't do anything, and they weren't students. London left home that day and never came back. But the harassment continued, and my mom agreed it would be best to do an online high school at home.”
“You haven't heard from her since?”
“Once, she was arrested for drug possession, and my mom found out after the fact. She'd filed a missing persons report when she left, but the police soon dismissed it. They determined she left willingly, and she was over eighteen by then. The cops, they try and help, but everyone's part of it. Our home still gets vandalized like it's a right of passage or something.”
“And what about him, the coach, what did he do?” His jaw flexes as he speaks between clenched teeth.
“Nothing.” I shrug. “He denied everything I said and then disappeared, but…” I look at the wall, unsure how to explain. “My sister was still in contact with him, I think. Or at least she claimed. That's what she was most mad about, that he was gone. That's what everyone was mad about. But he's not gone; he's here. Brody had said so, but I thought he was just talking. It surprised me today, and I don't know if he saw me. I don't know if he blames me, too.”
“Stop.” He scoops me up in his arms. “Fuck him. Fuck all of them. He brought that on himself. It was only a matter of time before someone called him out. Just like now. He hasn't learned a damn thing.”
“I shouldn't have said anything, to anyone.” And here I was, still talking about it.
“He shouldn't have been fucking with kids.” He squeezes me to him.
I relax against him, soaking up his acceptance but unable to voice my fear. It wasn't so much him, but my sister that I’m scared of.
“Do you want something to eat now?” He tilts his head towards mine, lips in my hair as I nod. “I'll call for Chinese, you can choose the movie. Just relax, okay?”
I force a smile as I sit up, letting him off the bed.
“What would you like?” he asks, turning on the TV with a remote.
“Orange chicken.” I ignore the unease still prickling under my skin. This wasn't high school. People here believed me. It would be okay. Drew believed me.
“Here's the movies, choose whatever, I'll be right back.” He hands me the remote so I can scan through the movie list, and then he walks out of the room.
When he returns, we lay in bed and watch The Departed in near silence, besides when the food arrives. It's a comforting silence that I'm thankful for. His little touches, his arm reaching around me to pull me onto him as we settle in for the movie, all help me shed the anxiety pulsing in me.
* * *
I awake to him whispering something to me; the room still dark. I jolt, surprised that I’d fallen asleep.
He's standing, hands braced on either side of me on the mattress, leaning over me, forcing me to lay down. “Relax, I’ve got practice. I'll be back. Don't go anywhere.”
“I've got class.” I speak into his lips; they're hovering over mine.
“Skip it.”
“I can't, we're practicing for a performance.” I brush over his jaw, still in a daze, he smells so good, feels so good.
He pulls back. “That dance class? You should drop it.”
I slide out of the covers I don't remember putting on, ignoring his comment. I know who he doesn't want me to see. “Can you take me back to my dorm on your way.”
“I mean it.”
“I'm not dropping it. It'll effect my scholarship, and it's an easy enough class.”
“Fine, come on.” He's already dressed and picks up a gym bag by his door.
I follow him out of the room to his truck. The sky’s still dark, stars fading.
He drives to my dorm in an unnerving silence. But I refuse to give in.
I'm about to get out when he speaks, “I'm sorry.”
I only stare at him.
“We should have talked more last night.” He reaches his hand out to me. “But…”
“It's okay.” I grip his hand with mine.
“No, it's not. I avoided it.”
“I did, too. It was nice to not talk,” I reassure.
“It was.” He leans over and presses a sweet kiss to my temple, surprising and warming me. But his sigh as he pulls away leaves me cold. “I'll find you after practice.” He releases my hand, and I get out.
I turn back to him before closing the doo
r, a thought striking me. “I have class, though.”
“I know. I'll see you later. I've got to go.”
I close the door, and he pulls away.
* * *
A swirl of emotions spirals through me at the sight of Drew outside the arts building in his hat, tight t-shirt, and sweats.
“I told you, I have to go to class.” But I step into his open arm, wrapping mine around his warm body.
“I know.” He keeps me in his embrace as he pulls back to meet my eyes. “I needed to see—” He narrows his eyes as he looks past me. “What the hell is he doing?”
Before I can respond, he walks past me and I turn to see Scott on the steps at the entrance to the building. I hurry to catch up to Drew approaching him.
“I told you to stay away from her. So why are you here?” Drew demands as he steps close to him.
Scott stands his ground, lifting his chin to look up at him. “I don't answer to you.”
“Stop.” I step in front of a fuming Drew, pushing him back with my hands on his chest. “What are you doing?”
He barely glances at me, shooting daggers at Scott. “He needs to stay away.”
“He's not here for me. He's probably here for Tatum.” I turn to Scott, heart stuttering with the anger flowing between them. “Right?”
Scott gives me a look. A look that screams, I'm a sad fool, and his voice is full of pity, “He knows that, Brook.”
21: In Between
Before I can respond to Scott, Drew knocks my hands off of him with a swipe of his arm.
“That's bullshit. Get the hell out of here.” He steps around me, and Scott retreats, still facing us.
“No, what's bullshit is that you feel the need to tell me to stay away from either of them.” Scott takes steps backwards, eyes wide as he stares at Drew. “You don't control everything, Fayden.”
Drew sneaks his arm around me, and I stumble into his chest as he pulls me to his body. He locks me in place, crossing his other arm over me. His voice drops to a threatening growl that vibrates through my bones. “Just stay away.”
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