by R. A. Smyth
Mason doesn’t even try to fight back as my fist collides with his jaw, sending his head snapping to the side. Another blow to his kidney has him grimacing, while a well-placed right hook has a cut opening up at the edge of his brow.
The whole time, he just stands there, taking every blow like the fighter he is. I have no idea how long I attack him like he’s my own personal punching bag, but I don’t stop until I’ve exorcised myself of every painful emotion, and I’m so exhausted I can no longer stand upright.
He catches me in his arms as I sag forward, barely able to keep my eyes open as exhaustion slams into me, my adrenaline finally burning off. He wraps his arms around me, slowly lowering me until we’re on our knees, his body propping me up.
He feels so warm, the regular rhythm of his heart steadying as I come close to giving into this bone-deep weariness. I don’t have the brainpower or emotional bandwidth to understand what we are doing right now. I should not be letting him hold me like this, but I just can’t bring myself to give a shit.
It’s like my body was a bath. The plug was in and the tap was on, and I was overflowing with emotions, unable to contain them. At some point, when I was beating the crap out of Mason, the tap was turned off and the plug pulled out, allowing everything I was feeling to drain away. What’s left is a large, empty tub, a voidless expanse within me.
The next thing I know, we’re lying on the floor, my body draped over his. I feel him stroking his hand over my hair, but my eyes refuse to open, a small groan escaping me.
“Shhh, you’re okay. Sleep. I’ll look out for you.”
As though he’s just said the magic words, my body gives up the fight and I succumb to sleep, letting it suck me into its dark depths.
When I next wake up, I’m back in my room, tucked into bed with wet bandages wrapped around my knuckles. I don’t remember how I got back here, but there’s only one person who could have done it.
Mason.
But why?
Chapter 20
It starts out slow, one or two kids whispering. I barely even notice, but when a low hum of activity settles over the library, I can no longer ignore it. Glancing over at the other tables, students are staring wide-eyed at their tablets, some of them laughing.
“Eww, no wonder she’s been trying to hide that all year,” I hear a girl at a nearby table say to her friend.
A couple of jocks are sitting at the table beside me, staring eagerly at whatever is on the tablet.
“Damn, even with all those marks, she’s fucking hot.”
“Right? I’d totally fuck her.”
“Hell yeah, I’d have tried it on with her sooner if I knew she looked like that under those crappy clothes she wears.”
What the hell are they talking about?
Setting the tablet in front of me, I open up my email, finding a video file attached to a recent, unopened email. That must be what everyone is whispering about.
Pressing play, I stare transfixed at the video, unable to believe what I’m seeing. There’s only one person who would do this, but to go this far? My hand clenches tightly around the device, a notification popping up, showing a new message in our group chat.
Hawk: Meet outside the east wing at the end of class.
Not willing to wait that long, I stuff my things in my backpack and storm out, arriving at the east wing just as the bell goes. West is already there, his face pinched as he glares at the passing students. The entire way here I heard them all whispering about her, about the video. Are their lives so goddamn empty that they have to talk about a girl they don’t even know, speculating about the damage that’s been done to her? What the fuck is wrong with them?
“Did you know?” I snap at him as I arrive.
He grits his teeth, glaring at me. “No. Of course not.”
“He’s gone too far this time,” I growl, my body practically vibrating with rage.
His eyes run over me, taking in my clenched fists and wide stance. “You can’t do anything here. Let's just get through whatever he has planned and then we can talk to him.”
I fucking hate that idea. What the hell else does he plan on doing to her? He’s right, though. I can’t say a goddamn word until we can get back to the dorms, and I can ream him out in private.
So instead I grit my teeth, donning my usual mask of apathy and watch as Hadley fights fire with fire, showing us just how resilient she is as she tears us a new one before storming off.
“Show’s over, get the fuck out of here,” I roar at the lingering students after Hadley’s departure. Everyone quickly jumps into action, scurrying away from us, until we’re the only ones left in the hall.
“I don’t know what the hell you were thinking,” I snarl, rounding on Hawk. “But we’re going to fucking discuss this later.”
Before I can give into the urge to punch him, I storm out of there, ignoring him calling after me.
I know where she would have gone to, and while I’m probably one of the last people she wants to see, I also know exactly what she needs right now.
***
For the last few months, I’ve watched Hadley beat on the heavy bag harder than some trained professionals, ridding herself of whatever she was feeling; but standing watching her today, she was completely different.
Sure, the rage coming off of her was a palpable thing sitting heavy in the air, but it was more than that. She seemed almost haunted, as though her demons were pressing in around her. I know that feeling. I understand it.
When I wrapped my arms around her, I was only trying to catch her before she collapsed, but holy fuck. Holding her against me—she fit perfectly in my arms. I’ve never held anyone like that, nevermind someone so vulnerable. Whether it was because some part of herself trusted me, or she was just so lost to her pain—pain that we caused—whatever the reason, holding her like that hit me in a way I never expected.
Tucking her in, I brush a stray strand of hair from her face. Even in sleep, it’s scrunched up. What the hell happened to you? Brushing my thumb lightly across her cheek, the lines on her face flatten out and she leans into my touch. Grudgingly, I turn away from her, ignoring the pit in my stomach, the part of me that wants to go back and stay with her as I silently close her door behind me. With anger coursing through me, I storm back to our dorm. Hawk and I need to have some fucking words after that shit he pulled today. What he did was fucked up. And not to tell us? Dick move.
Throwing open the door to the apartment, I storm in, finding Hawk sitting in the living room. West is standing over him, with his arms crossed and a similar scowl to my own on his face.
“What the hell was that about?” I bark out, slamming the door shut behind me, glaring at him as I close the distance between us, coming to stand beside West.
Hawk’s eyes widen as he takes in my appearance. Yeah, I imagine I look like shit. I can’t say I thought I’d ever be beat up by a girl. Not only do I deserve it, but I’m so fucking turned-on by her ability to beat the shit out of me, I don’t even care that everything hurts.
“What the fuck—” West starts, before Hawk cuts across him.
“I did what was necessary,” he says with a nonchalant shrug.
“Necessary? What the fuck does that mean? You completely violated her privacy.”
“What the fuck do you care?”
Unable to answer that, I purse my lips.
“You saw her scars. You know what leaves marks like that,” I spit the words out between gritted teeth, the ink-black tone of my voice giving away the roiling emotions within me as I fight to block out the traumatic memories of my past.
Maybe that’s what differentiates me from Hawk. Where he saw scars and pain and an opportunity to strike; I see a five-year-old boy struggling to hold himself together as blood flows down the shower drain, crying out in pain as water hits the open lashes on his back.
The guys all know what I’ve been through, but there’s a difference between hearing about that shit, and actually living it. I’ve
let him go around, putting her in her place all semester, all in the name of presenting a united front to the rest of the idiots at this school; but today crossed a fat fucking line. What he did is not okay. The second he saw that video, he fucking knew, yet he still sent it out to everyone.
“How has Cam not already torn you a new one?” I snarl.
Looking completely unfazed by my aggression, he snorts, shaking his head, a cocky grin lifting his lips.
“He knew what I had planned.”
I gape at him, his words playing on repeat in my head.
“He what?” West barks at the same time I blurt, “Cam knew?”
The man himself comes strutting into the room, looking far too fucking nonplussed given all the shit that’s gone down today.
“I knew what?”
“You fucking knew what he was going to do?” I growl, turning my glare on him.
What the actual fuck is going on here? I know he’s butt hurt over her rejection, but he needs to get the fuck over it. After what I saw today, her insistence that she belongs to no one makes even more sense. How can he not fucking see that?
His features shutter as he locks down whatever emotions he’s feeling, making it impossible for me to read him.
“I found this in her room,” Hawk informs us, dropping a notebook on the coffee table. It looks just like every other one Hadley owns. She’s one of the only students that insists on writing everything instead of using her tablet.
“Her workbook?” I ask, frowning at it in confusion. Picking it up, I flick through the pages, hesitating when, instead of school notes, I find clip outs. The first few pages are all of Cam’s dad, followed by a handful of news articles on the rest of our parents and their company, each one with handwritten scrawls beside it.
“What the fuck? What is this?” I can’t tear my eyes away from the damning pages in front of me. Insights into our parents, into our lives. Information she could only have gained from us.
“I don’t understand.”
What the fuck is this? Why does she have it?
West tears the notebook out of my hands, his eyes narrowing as he slowly scans each page, that computer brain of his analyzing every word.
“She was clearly using us,” Cam snarls, venom thick in his tone. His hands are clenched, his lip curled in hatred. Fuck, he’s pissed. It takes a hell of a lot to enrage him, but he is fucking furious right now.
“For what?” I can’t make sense of it all. What does she want with our parents?
“How the fuck do I know. She’s street trash, she probably wants what every other girl wants—money, security, and a better social status.”
“I told you she couldn’t be trusted.” I round on Hawk so quickly, the room spins, glowering at him. That shit isn’t fucking helpful right now. Ignoring him, I turn to look at West who is still flicking through the notebook.
“What do you think?” I ask him, needing someone with a sensible head to have some sort of input into this asinine conversation.
“It doesn’t fucking matter,” Cam barks, waving his hand toward the notebook. “Why she has all this...information, or what she’s doing doesn’t matter. Hawk’s right, she’s been using us this whole time. Everything she said, every move she made, was some preconceived plan designed to bring us closer to her.” My eyes narrow on him, trying to read between the lines. He’s never said anything, but he’s way too annoyed about all of this for Hadley to have simply been another girl he was chasing after. Something more must have happened between them for him to be this pissed off. “She’s been using us, manipulating us all year. What she got today was the least she deserved.”
After listening to him waxing fucking poetic about her all year, it’s a shock to hear the bitterness in his tone as he spits out each word. Sure, he was hurt after her rejection, but he’s hardly said anything about her since then. Not a bad word against her, but the rage coming off him is a palpable thing reverberating in the air around us. Underneath it all, though, he’s concealing a hell of a lot of pain over her betrayal. It burns out some of the fire I came storming in here with, taking the edge off the anger I had at Hawk.
I still don’t agree with what they did, but this notebook certainly complicates things. What the hell is she up to? What interest does she have with our parents?
“By forcing her to be Cam's girl, we gave her exactly what she wanted,” Hawk snarls.
“But she turned him down,” I argue, still not totally in agreement with his assessment of her. He hasn’t been thinking straight when it comes to her. She was the first person of the year to cross him, and he’s decided to make her life miserable, but there’s no real reason for his dislike of her.
“What do we do now?” Cam asks, still looking furious over the whole thing.
“Let the rest of the school deal with her. After today, they’ll hopefully tear her to shreds,” Hawk states. “We have nothing more to do with her. We can’t give her any more information than she already has.”
“Don’t you want to know what she’s up to?” I ask, surprised.
“No. I don’t give a shit. You all just need to stay the fuck away from her, okay?”
***
“Do you always sneak into other people’s rooms in the middle of the night?”
Flicking on the lamp, she spins toward me, her eyes wide when she finds me sitting in a chair in the living room, watching her.
I’ve been waiting for her all night. I knew she would show up at some point. She’s spent all semester putting together this notebook on us all, there’s no way she would just let it go. Besides, she’s shown she’s capable of getting in and out of our rooms undetected. Even after we changed the locks, she still managed to get in and mess with us. Last week she took all the cables for the TV and game consoles and hid them amongst towels in the airing cupboard. It took us a full day to find them.
“Holy shit, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” she whisper yells. “And I don’t think you can really say anything about sneaking into others’ rooms.”
I ignore her dig, refusing to be sidetracked from my task of getting some answers out of her.
“What are you doing here, Hadley?”
The lines around her eyes tighten as she glowers at me. “I need my notebook back.”
“Why?”
Come on, just tell me something, give me some reason as to what this is all about.
“I just do.”
“You’ve gotta give me something.” I sigh. “Hawk and Cam are convinced you’re using us—well, Cam—to get to our parents...is that the case?”
She pauses, her eyes burning with defiance. Before she even opens her mouth, I know she’s not going to give me the answers I need.
“Is that why you sent everyone that video? Because you found my notebook? Or are you just so bored with your privileged lives that you need to destroy someone else's just for shits and giggles?”
Her head tilts slightly as she scrutinizes me, trying to get a read on me, to understand the motives behind today.
“No,” I snarl, annoyed that she thinks any of this is just fun and games to us. “We—”
“Did you think that would break me?” she snaps, cutting me off before I can say anything further. Not that I had any clue what I was going to say. “A video? I guess someone like you couldn’t possibly understand what I’ve had to endure.”
Unable to bare the distance between us, I cut across the space until I’m standing right in front of her, her chest brushing against mine. I’m angry at Hawk and Cam, at her. I’m confused, and I need answers, but despite all that, I still can’t ignore this connection I feel with her. And after this afternoon, it’s only gotten more intense. I need to feel her small body pressed up against mine, wrapped around me once more.
Towering over her, I drop my head so our faces are inches apart. “You assume you're the only one with a fucked-up past, little warrior?” I murmur, staring deep into her stormy eyes, swirling with so many emotions I can’t identif
y any of them. “Do you really think that just because we have big houses and fancy cars we don't have our own traumas we’re working through?”
She returns my intense gaze, trying to read my carefully concealed thoughts. “Yes,” she murmurs honestly, the word barely more than a whisper against my lips.
“I wish that were true.” I give her a small, sad smile. “But you should know better than anyone, everyone wants to keep the scars of their past a secret, and just because they might not be visible, doesn’t mean they’re any less real.”
A tense moment of silence stretches between us, until she speaks up again.
“So, Mason, if we’re sharing war stories, what are your scars?”
“What are yours?” I rebut, not willing to share anymore of myself with her. She already sees too much, knows too much.
Her eyes bore into mine, showing me all of her, every painful crack and open wound she always keeps so carefully covered. At the same time, I can feel her probing inside me, peering in hidden boxes, delving into my dark secrets, each of us letting down our walls, however briefly.
“Why do I feel like our pain is the same?” Her words are a barely heard breath, but with our lips basically touching and my every sense honed in on her, it would be impossible to miss her slightest movement.
“Because, baby, it is.”
She doesn’t say anything for a long time, and I expect she’s not going to respond. Our lips hover dangerously close and all I can think about is kissing her, but loyalty to my brothers holds me back.
Eventually her lips part, her tongue flicking out to wet her lower lip. I trace the movement with a keen eye until her words distract me from wondering what she tastes like. “It was, at first…about finding information on your parents.” She pointedly directs the conversation back to somewhat safer territory and something about the way she says it comes across as vulnerable, honest, and, god help me, but I’m inclined to believe her.
“Why?”