by Eva Ashwood
It was him.
Just him.
Gray.
He doesn’t answer my question. Doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even try to make an excuse or apologize.
He doesn’t do shit, just backs away a little and props himself up against the kitchen cabinets, his jaw set and his eyes blank as if trying to block it all out. As if he doesn’t even fucking care.
I don’t understand it. I don’t even know how to begin to try to make sense of it. Gray, who just helped pay my likely astronomical hospital bills. Gray, who I’ve spent the last week of winter break with in his fucking house, because he wanted to make sure I was safe as I recovered from my fall. Gray, who’s just given me the best gift I’ve ever received, the only gift I can ever remember receiving.
He still doesn’t fucking say a word.
Was it for his own sake? Did he take care of me just so that he could send me packing, on my feet and stable, without having to worry about feeling guilty about it?
It’s the only thing I can think of. He wanted to make sure I was okay for his own damn sake, not for mine, so that he wouldn’t have to worry about me when he shoved me out. When he got me away, as he promised he would.
I’ve done this before—the hot and the cold with him, the push and pull. And as I bite my cheek against the hurt and rage simmering inside me, I decide I’m done.
I’m fucking done.
Maybe he never forgave me for taking Beth’s place after all. Maybe he never fucking will.
He’s obviously not going to say anything, and I’m done making excuses for him.
“I’m not dealing with this bullshit anymore. Fuck you,” I mutter, pushing myself up off the floor.
I wish it was an effort to pull myself away from him, to yank my clothes back on and storm out of the kitchen to my bedroom. I wish the numbness in my chest wasn’t already creeping through my body and taking over.
But it’s better this way.
It’s better if I stop fucking kidding myself. We played this game last semester. I thought it was over, but clearly, that was just round one.
In my room, I throw everything back into the bag Max packed for me, shoving it in roughly and haphazardly. Grabbing my phone and yanking the charger out of the socket, I order an Uber and stalk back down the stairs, heading out the front door. It slams behind me.
Just like that, it’s over. It’s fucking over.
How did that just happen?
How did everything come crumbling down so fast?
My heart and my head battle, and neither of them win—the only thing that wins is the cold. The numb.
I dig my fingernails into my palms, my body tense as I wait for the Uber to pull up. In less than five minutes, I slide into the back seat of a car and it pulls away, leaving Gray and his fancy-ass house behind.
I glance back over my shoulder just once as his house recedes in the distance, my heart constricting so hard in my chest that it feels like it might stop beating entirely.
Maybe I should consider this a blessing, but Gray was still in the kitchen when I left. He never even fucking tried to stop me. He just let me go, like that.
Which means he really wasn’t lying.
He truly does want me gone.
7
When we reach the Hawthorne Campus, I leave the driver with little more than a muttered thanks and grab my bag, throwing it over my shoulder. As he pulls away, I start the short trek across the campus to my dorm room. Usually at this time of day there would already be students milling around in groups on the quad, thanks to the mild California weather, but it seems like everyone is at home or vacationing for the break.
Not me.
I pull my phone out of the pocket I shoved it in and dial up one of the few contacts on it—Max. She answers almost immediately.
“Hey, girl, what’s up?” she greets me. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”
I wish I could return the sentiment, but there isn’t a merry bone in my body right now. “Hey. Can you meet me back at my dorm? I’m almost there.”
“Wait, you’re here?” There’s a pause on the other line. “I thought you were with Gray.”
“No, I’m here—”
“Did he drive you?” she interrupts, worry filling her voice.
“No. I paid for a ride.” I don’t say more than that. This is a conversation that’s better had in person, but I know even the few words I’ve already said are enough for her to figure out that something is seriously wrong. My chest aches all over again, and I push the feeling down. “Are you busy? Can you meet up?”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Since I couldn’t go home, I wasn’t really planning on doing much today, just binge watching some shows or something. I’ll be right over.” She hangs up with a short breath that I know means she’s bracing herself for whatever shit storm she’s about to face.
Shit storm? Is that what this is?
I’m not really sure. I’m not sure about anything anymore. As much as I kind of feel like crying right now, I also feel like kicking someone’s ass.
Max is quick. She’s waiting by the door to my building by the time I get there. Swinging my bag around to the front of my body, I yank down one of the zippers and rifle around for the key card, relieved when my fingers brush up against the smooth plastic. Thank fuck I didn’t accidentally leave it at Gray’s place. The last thing I want is for him to have my key card, yet again.
“Shit, Sophie,” Max says, looking at me even though I can’t meet her eyes, “this looks bad.”
“Bad?” I repeat, but the word is hollow. I slide the card through the reader and the door clicks open.
Max follows close behind me as we head up to my dorm room. I haven’t been here since the night of the party, and it’s a little strange to walk inside the little apartment unit. I thought I’d be coming back to this place under much different circumstances. Maybe after a long, satisfying break with Gray, ready to start up a new semester and hit the ground running. I was looking forward to coming back here and painting again, to getting back into the groove of school and art.
Max gives me a look as she settles onto my couch. I’m still lingering by the door, almost like I’m afraid my fucking dorm room is haunted, but she gestures me over, patting the seat beside her.
“All right, girl, spill it,” she says as I walk over and sink onto the couch. “What the fuck is going on? What happened?”
In a few short sentences, I explain everything to her.
Just the facts, nothing else. I tell her about Gray and I discussing my art and him suggesting I transfer schools. Then I explain how a sudden flood of memories hit me, triggered by the stupid conversation. I’m proud of the way my voice stays steady and cool, but each word I speak feels like another small stab to my heart, another wave of fresh betrayal.
This is what you get for trusting people, Sophie.
This is what you get for letting them in.
Max’s face is dumbfounded when I finish my story. “What. The actual. Fuck?” She blinks, her hazel eyes narrowing. “I can’t believe he pulled that bullshit on you. I was just starting to think about forgiving him for being a cocksucker last semester.”
“Yeah.” I pick at a loose thread on the couch. “Guess this is what I get for trying to forgive and forget. What’s that saying? ‘When someone shows you who they are, believe them.’ Gray showed me who he is from the first second I got here, and I should’ve believed that, not the pretty words that came later.”
“I don’t even know what to say.” Max shakes her head. “I really don’t. I don’t fucking understand it.”
“It’s fine.” I shrug. I don’t understand it either. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“That asshole!” She jumps to her feet, pacing around my small living room. “I thought… after he seemed to care so much at the hospital, after he seemed like all he wanted to do was to take care of you…” Her lip curls in disgust. “What the fuck is wrong with him?”
I stay on
the couch, my hands curling into fists as they rest on my thighs. Max’s fury is actually helping ease some of my own. It helps to share it with someone, to know that I’m not crazy for being pissed and hurt.
The shittiest part is, I almost wish I hadn’t gotten those memories back when I did. Fuck, I’ve spent every day since I woke up hoping I’d remember some part of what happened that night… but did it have to come back to me then? Did it have to be right after Gray gave me the most beautiful gift I’ve ever received, a gift that’s still around my neck and needs to be disposed of as soon as possible, before fucking me on the kitchen floor like he could never get enough?
Why did he have to make my heart whole before he smashed it into pieces?
“Shit, Sophie. I wish there was something I could say or do to fix things,” Max says, finally stopping in her tracks to face me. Her expression softens, sympathy shining in her eyes. “This is a whole new level of fucked up.”
“Thanks, Max.”
“And hey, if you need an alibi or help burying a body, I’ve got you covered.”
I grin in spite of myself. “Good to know.”
The conversation dies there, and I leave Max in the living room to think about everything as I go unpack my bag, pissed that everything fucking smells like Gray’s house too. I toss it all in the laundry basket, and when I feel the thin chain of the necklace against my neck, I yank it off. The chain breaks easily, and there’s a small part of me that breaks with it, knowing I just ruined something beautiful and fragile, no matter who it came from.
Curling my fingers around the small heart, I walk into the bathroom and open up the toilet lid, ready to throw it down into the sewage system where it belongs—but something makes me pause.
I can’t. I don’t want to.
Opening up my palm, I glance at that little heart again, wishing it meant something else. Wishing it wasn’t just a pacifying parting gift, something to help Gray soothe his guilt.
Fuck.
I drop the toilet lid down and stride back into my room, then shove the broken necklace deep into one of my dresser drawers where I can forget about it until I’m ready to get rid of it.
Max and I spend the rest of the day doing nothing. We get some food, watch a movie, then take my unpacked clothes down to the laundry room so I can get rid of that last reminder of Gray. Technically, there’s a student laundry service, but I’ve yet to feel comfortable with the idea of some stranger handling and folding my clothes.
Max doesn’t mention Gray’s name again all day. I think she senses I don’t want to talk about it, and I’m grateful as fuck that she doesn’t press.
“Hey, I’ll be right back,” she says, hauling herself off the couch as the credits roll on our third movie today. “I’ve gotta go get something from my dorm.”
I nod as she heads toward the door, looking down at the folded laundry around my feet. There wasn’t much to begin with, and with Max helping me, we got it all folded quickly. Deciding that I can probably get it all done before she gets back, I pick up a few of the stacks and bring them back to my room, shoving them in random drawers.
Sure enough, a few minutes after I finish, Max walks back in with a full bottle of whiskey and two glasses. She holds them up with a grin.
“Movies and Chinese takeout are great, but what this Christmas is really missing is day drinking.”
“Fuck, yes. Just what I need right now.” I grin.
We flop back down on the couch, and Max sets the two glasses on the coffee table before pouring a generous amount for both of us.
“Want to watch something else?” I ask.
“Up to you,” she says, capping the whiskey. When she hands me my cup, I take it from her with greedy hands.
Max picks up her glass and clinks it with mine. We toss our drinks back in silence, and the amber liquid burns down my throat before turning to a pleasant warm sensation. My nerves are soothed a little bit, but it’s going to take a few more rounds to completely obliterate them.
“That’s good,” I say.
“Thanks, got it from a friend.” She grabs the bottle. “More?”
“Hell, yeah.”
We decide to wait a little while on the next movie, and after a moment of quiet, Max ventures into that territory we’ve been avoiding all day.
“So…” She draws out the word, lying back on the couch. “Have you remembered anything else about that night?”
“No. Nothing besides what I told you.”
But it feels like there might be something else… It’s on the edge of my mind, something I’m missing.
I’ve felt that way all day. Like my mind is trying to tell me something, remind me of some important detail that I’m missing out on, but it’s just… gone.
“Are you considering leaving the school? Like Gray suggested?” Amending herself quickly, she adds, “Not because he told you to, but because, you know… After everything that happened last semester and now this, don’t you want to get away from it?”
Her words remind me too much of what Gray said. Even though I know she’s just talking, just trying to help me sort through this, I can’t help the bite of anger that rises up inside me. It’s directed at Gray though, not her. Max is actually concerned about me, whereas Gray was just acting concerned so he could keep the promise he made to… whoever it was.
Who was he talking to?
Cliff?
Caitlin?
Or is there someone else on campus who hates me enough to want me gone?
“No. No fucking way am I leaving.” I don't even have to think about my answer. “I’m not gonna back down just because some rich assholes don’t like me. It’s my right to be here, just as much as it is theirs. And no matter what shit Gray thinks he has up his sleeves, I’m not going to fucking fold. Not for anything.”
“Hell fucking yes.”
Max gives a grin that’s almost vicious, and for about the millionth time, I think of how lucky I am to have her as a friend. Things between me and the Sinners may have gone to hell, but at least I got something good out of coming here. I got a ride or die bestie, a girl who’ll have my back no matter what.
That alone is worth all the other bullshit I’ve endured since coming to Hawthorne.
“To not backing down. That sounds like something to fucking celebrate,” she says, refilling our glasses so we can toast again. “Merry Christmas, Sophie.”
I grin as she takes a sip and grimaces. Max isn’t a lightweight, but she’s a lot closer to being tipsy than I am.
“Hey. Um, I’m glad you’re here.” I nudge her shoulder, the words coming out a little awkwardly. I’m shit at any kind of emotional stuff. “Even though I know you wanted to go back home, I’m selfishly really glad you stayed. How are you doing with your first Christmas away from your family?”
I can’t really relate to the traditions of family holidays. I never really had any of that growing up. But even though Max comes from what would probably be considered “the wrong side of the tracks” by everyone at this school, her family is super tight, and her parents love her. As far as I’m concerned, that’s worth more than money anyway.
“I’m doing okay. We talked on the phone this morning,” she says, but a small frown creases her brow. “I’m still bummed I couldn’t afford the plane ticket though. I wish it was part of the stipend for us scholarship students. Like, if they can afford to house and feed us for over two weeks during winter break, shouldn’t they be able to fly us home instead?”
“You should mention that to Dean Wells,” I say with a snort. The whiskey is finally starting to hit me. “You’d think they’d be glad to get rid of us for a while.”
“Right?” She laughs too, reaching for the bottle again.
Max and I spend the next hour finishing up the bottle of whiskey until she says something about sleeping in her own bed, and we somehow manage to get her to her dorm without falling over. My steps are heavy and my head spins as I make it the short distance across campus back to my
room, sliding the key through the reader a few too many times before I get it right.
I’m coherent enough to brush my teeth and tug off my clothes so I can take a quick shower before I get in bed. Maybe it’s my drunken imagination, but I feel like I can still smell Gray on my skin, and I scrub off the outer layer of skin cells in an effort to banish that last remnant of him.
Stepping out of the shower into the steaming bathroom, I catch my reflection in the mirror. The hollow eyed, rough-edged girl who looks back is one I know all too well, only this time, there’s a weariness in her blue-gray eyes that I feel in my bones.
I need to sleep before I start thinking about shit, I think, flipping off the bathroom light and heading to the bedroom to pull a ratty t-shirt from one of the top drawers. As I pull the shirt over my head, my gaze snags on the marks on my body—a mix of scars and tattoos. I know where the ink came from, but I don’t know where many of the little jagged white lines came from.
There are secrets… I trace my finger over a particularly visible scar on my arm. There are secrets buried inside me. I know they’re in there, I just can’t grasp them yet.
I tug the hem of the shirt down, my head starting to spin a little. I don’t think it’s the booze so much anymore. Now it’s just exhaustion. Maybe even a little heartbreak.
Tugging the covers back, I crawl into bed, curling up as if I could somehow keep the whole world at bay.
There are secrets buried inside me. Will I ever manage to draw them out?
8
Hawthorne University obviously doesn’t believe in letting their students get too much time off. School starts just a few days after I get back, but I certainly don’t spend that time idly.
If Gray’s promise to get rid of me for good has done anything, it’s only increased my drive to do better here than anyone expected. After getting my class schedule and all of the books I’ll need for the semester, I’ve spent the past two days studying and prepping, doing as much as I possibly can to get ahead and be ready for the semester. I’m determined to kick ass in my classes and prove to everyone, not just Gray, that I can hold my own.