by Laura Lee
"Of course I want to see you," I assure her. "But...I've been in the hospital for a whole week, and I have lots and lots of homework to catch up on for school."
At least that part isn’t a lie. The first thing Ms. Williams said to me when I got home was that my father expects me to keep up with schoolwork while I convalesce.
“Homework is stupid.” She punctuates her statement by sticking out her lower lip.
I laugh until my stitches pull, causing sharp pain. I have to fake sneeze to cover up my yelp, but that motion makes it even worse. Damn it.
I take a moment to breathe through the pain. “It really is, but you know what’s pretty awesome?”
“What?” I can see the wheels turning in her head as a little crease forms between her eyebrows.
"You can see me anytime you want before then. You just have to hit that green camera button on your iPad, and we can video chat."
“That’s super-duper awesome!”
God, I love her smile.
I cover my mouth as a giant yawn sneaks up on me. Having the shit beat out of you really zaps your energy. I don’t recommend it one bit.
“I think I’m going to take a nap before I get started on all that homework. I have to go now, but call me when you get home from school tomorrow, okay?”
Belle nods. “’Kay! Love you, Jazz!”
“I love you too, sweet girl.”
Her face disappears as I hit the button to end the call. Carefully crawling under the covers, I rest my head on the pillow and close my eyes. I only remember taking a few deep breaths before I’m fast asleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
JAZZ
The persistent knocking on my door wakes me up. I carefully sit up in bed, swinging my legs to the side.
“Hold on a sec.”
I slowly make my way over there, turn the lock, and open the door. Ms. Williams is standing in the hallway with her resting bitch face firmly in place.
"Miss Jasmine, you have a visitor waiting in your theater room. Would you like to meet him there, or shall I send him in here?"
I sigh. “Neither. Please tell Kingston I’ll call him when I’m ready to talk. Just like I’ve told him every day in the week that I’ve been home.”
“It’s not Mr. Davenport.”
Huh?
"Who is it, then?"
“Bentley Fitzgerald.”
What is Bentley doing here? Did Kingston send him? I look down at the tank top and pajama shorts I’m wearing. It’s not covering any less skin than I would show on a warm day, but I still feel exposed.
"Give me a few minutes, and you can send him here. I need to change first.”
Ms. Williams nods. “Very well.”
I head into my walk-in closet and shut the door. Changing entirely is going to take too much effort, so I settle for grabbing an old hoodie. I quickly peek in the full-length mirror, and I'm pleased to see that my bruises are almost entirely faded. I cringe when my eyes move up to the giant bird's nest at the top of my head. I haven't washed my hair in almost a week, and it's greasy and tangled as fuck.
Something so simple shouldn't be so challenging, but with a fucked-up wrist, it is. I can take my splint off when I shower, but I'm still not supposed to move my wrist, and trying to wash my hair with only one hand is a bitch. I may actually have to suck it up and take advantage of Madeline's in-house salon. That doesn't help me right now, though. Oh, well. It's not like I need to worry about impressing Bentley, right?
“Jazzy Jazz, you in here?”
I finish pulling up the zipper and open the door, stepping out of my closet. Bentley is standing in my doorway, his eyes shooting in my direction when I clear my throat.
“Hey. What are you doing here?”
He rushes me before I have a chance to react, pulling me into a giant bear hug, lifting me off my toes. “Thank God you’re okay. I’m sorry for coming over unannounced, but I couldn’t wait any longer to see you. ”
I suck in a breath when he squeezes too tightly. Fuck, that hurts. “Bent...ease up.”
“Shit. Sorry.” He immediately releases me and looks me over. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay, all things considered.” I shrug. “What are you doing here? Did Kingston send you?”
“Naw, baby. I just needed to see you were alive with my own eyes. Davenport would probably be pissed if he knew I came.” Bentley clears his throat nervously. “Can we talk?”
My eyes are boring into his, searching. I decide there’s no harm in hearing him out since the odds of Bentley trying something shady with my bedroom door open are slim to none.
I nod. "Yeah, we can talk. I need to sit down, though."
He lifts a dark eyebrow. “You need help?”
“No, I got it.” I climb onto my bed, reclining against the padded headboard. “What do you want to talk about?”
Bentley grabs the chair from my desk and straddles it backward. “I wanted to apologize. If I had known your boy was held up, I would’ve never left. I swear to fucking God, Jazz, I would’ve never put you at risk like that.”
I think about that for a moment. How am I supposed to trust this guy when leaving me alone was the perfect setup? How do I know he didn’t walk away, knowing what was about to happen, so he had an alibi?
I sit up straighter when I think of a way to test his loyalty. If Bentley wants me to believe him, he needs to meet me halfway. “I have some questions.”
He tilts his head to the side. “You can ask me anything.”
“What really happened at Donovan’s party? And no dodging the details this time. Did you guys drug me?”
"Fuck, no." He shakes his head vehemently. "I would never...we would never.”
“You need to give me more than that, Bent, because my memory is really fuzzy from that night, which makes no sense after only two drinks.”
He exhales harshly. “Baby girl, you should be asking Kingston these questions.”
“I’m asking you, Bentley. C'mon, after what happened, I think I deserve some damn answers. How am I supposed to ever trust you if you can't answer a few measly questions? I don't even know how I got to the pool house. I remember hanging out with that guy from UCLA, and next thing I know, I'm thinking about how good you smell."
It takes him a moment to reply. "We paid Lawson—AKA, the UCLA guy—to chat you up over drinks and bring you to the pool house once you were nice and sloppy, ready to pass out."
Wow...so this Lawson guy was in on it. Yet another person to put on my watch list. I stare at Bentley for a moment, trying to read him. Well, at least he seems contrite. Or maybe he’s pretending?
I frown. “Go on.”
“And...you got a second wind or something, so we had to improvise.” Bentley gives me a sheepish smile.
“What were you planning on doing after you got me there, all ‘sloppy and ready to pass out’?”
“Definitely not what happened,” he insists. “Well, before you crashed, anyway.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Explain.”
Bentley sighs. “We were just after the pictures. Kingston wanted to get a few shots to make it look like we were both fucking you.”
"So, you could share them with the entire student body?"
“Yeah.” He cringes.
“Why?”
“Now, that really is a question for your boy. I can’t speak for him, but he definitely had his reasons.”
“Please stop calling him my boy. Kingston’s not my anything.”
“Aw baby, I wish that were actually true.” Bentley gets a sad look on his face. “Look, if it makes a difference, our make-out sesh, or the video for that matter, was never planned. But when you slid your tongue down my neck...the way you were so responsive to a simple kiss...I’ve never felt such explosive chemistry before. I’m pretty sure Kingston would say the same. Just the idea of a three-way with us totally got you going. You can’t deny that, Jazz; it couldn’t have been more obvious. I think Davenport and I were so stunned, o
ur dicks kind of took over.”
“It doesn’t matter if I was into it. What matters is that you fucking set me up.”
Bentley smirks. "So, you admit you wanted to take a big bite out of a Manwich?"
I pin him with a glare. “Not the time, Bentley.”
He holds his palms out. "All right, all right. Lousy time for jokes. Does it help that we felt like major shit afterward? It would've never gone any farther than it did; I swear on my left nut, Jazzy. As fucked up as this sounds, we did our best to protect you. We were in complete agreement that any pics we released didn't show nudity. We made sure the house was locked up tight. Kingston even texted his sister from your phone, so she knew where you were. We wouldn't have put you in any real danger.
“Sure, we needed the pics to spark the gossip, but we never wanted to actually hurt you. Maybe embarrass you a little or piss you off at most. We would’ve never taken advantage of you sexually, drunk or sober. We may be pricks, but we’re not fucking predators.”
I scoff. “Am I supposed to thank you for supposedly protecting me? Yeah, I guess I’m relieved the entire school can’t pick my tits out in a lineup, but the damage was done regardless. There are other ways to hurt someone beyond the physical, Bentley. Slut-shaming is never cool, and staging a scene to do it is even worse! That shit hurt.”
Bentley hangs his head. “We were assholes, straight up. For the record, your tits are fan-fucking-tastic. If the entire student body did see ‘em, they’d agree.”
I growl. “Not the point, dickhead.”
He scrubs a hand over his jaw. “Yeah, I know. Just sayin’. Quite frankly, we were all pretty surprised you forgave us as quickly as you did.”
"I didn't forgive you," I correct. "I just didn't see the point in dwelling over it. Not to mention some pretty great things happened after that. But after homecoming night in the forest, it made me question my judgment on a lot of stuff. I don't know how I'm supposed to trust my own thoughts, let alone anyone else."
“You can trust me, Jazzy Jazz. The guys, too. I know we’ve done some shitty things, but those few actions aren’t indicative of who we are. Of what lengths we’d go through to keep you safe. You matter to us; very few people fall under that umbrella.”
“Why should I believe you? Why should I believe anything you’ve told me tonight?”
Bentley's gaze never wavers as he formulates his response. "Ask me about a girl named Carissa sometime. Not tonight...but soon. I promise you won't have any doubt whether or not we'd ever intentionally hurt you."
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued about this Carissa girl. “I matter, huh?”
“So fucking much, babe. It’d be a lot easier if you didn’t—especially for me—but that’s life, I guess.”
I take a moment to really digest his words. To study his body language. Seeing him like this, regret pouring off of him in waves, I’m pretty sure Bentley is being honest. I’m still going to be cautious because I’m not stupid, but I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Okay.”
“Okay? Okay, what?”
“Okay, I’ll believe you. For now. But if I find out you lied to me about any of this, I won’t give you a second chance. I’m not kidding, Bent.”
Bentley exhales harshly. “I swear I won’t need one. Honest Abe from here on out.”
I sigh. “So, now what?”
Bentley squeezes the back of his neck. “Do you wanna talk about what happened that night?”
I briefly close my eyes, warding off the images his words conjure. I can’t stop thinking about that night, and none of those thoughts are pleasant.
“Not really.”
He sucks his full lower lip into his mouth. “Can I ask you one thing?”
“I reserve the right not to answer, but sure; go ahead.”
“Were you...did the guy who hurt you, did he, um...”
I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to finish the sentence. The boy looks massively uncomfortable. I’m pretty sure I know where he’s going with this, but I don’t want to assume.
“Did the guy who hurt me do what, Bentley?”
He swallows a lump in his throat. “Did he...force himself on you?”
“No.” I inhale sharply. “He tried...but he didn’t succeed.”
Bentley's head drops onto his forearms, which are folded over the back of the chair. He stays that way for a moment, his back rising and falling as he takes deep breaths.
I quirk my head to the side. “You okay?”
“Just...give me a second.”
Did he just sniffle?
When Bentley’s head lifts, his eyes are bloodshot and filled with unshed tears. Any lingering tension in my body immediately softens at the sight.
“Bent—”
“Jazzy, I know this makes me sound like a total pussy, but can I hold you? I just need to feel you.”
I nod. “Just be careful around my middle, okay? I’m still sore.”
Without hesitation, Bentley stretches out beside me and wraps his arms around my upper body, tucking his face into the crook of my neck. Neither one of us says a word; we just sit there, taking comfort in each other’s arms. I hug him as tightly as I can when I feel his silent tears dripping onto my skin, trickling down to my collarbone. What on earth is upsetting him so much? Who would’ve ever thought this guy, who’s a clown more often than not, would break down like this?
I pull off his ball cap and comb my fingers through his closely cropped hair. “Bentley, what’s going on in that head of yours?”
His fists clench around my hoodie. “I’m just so fucking glad you’re okay. I needed you to be okay—I couldn’t live with myself if you weren’t.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I just snuggle with him while he tries to control his sobbing. I don’t know how long we lie in my bed, wrapped up in each other, before Bentley’s softly snoring. I’m glad I put on an extra layer of clothing because it doesn’t take long before his head is resting right over my breast, his mouth perilously close to my nipple. What is it with guys using boobs as pillows? It’s not like mine are even all that cushiony.
I don't have the heart to wake him, and if I'm honest, cuddling with Bentley isn't exactly a hardship. I'm actually relieved I'm okay with being touched like this after what happened. The memory of that vile man's rough hands and lips all over my body makes my skin crawl. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to tolerate anyone’s touch, regardless of how I felt about them. I relish in the comfort that provides, knowing I’ll need to stockpile it for later. I have a feeling things are going to get a lot worse before they get better.
CHAPTER SIX
JAZZ
“Well, isn’t this sweet?”
My eyes flutter open and find Kingston standing in the open doorway to my bedroom, looking awfully pissed. Why am I so sweaty? A pressure on my chest causes me to look down. Oh yeah, that's right. There are over two hundred pounds of muscular man-boy lying on me. Bentley's head is still on my left breast, and his hand is cupping my right.
I nudge him. “Bentley, get up.”
He squeezes my boob and mumbles, “I don’t wanna. I like it here.”
I don't have a chance to respond before Kingston is pulling on the back of Bentley's shirt, hauling him off me. "Get up, asshole."
Bentley blinks rapidly, trying to clear the sleep fog. When he realizes what’s happening, he glares at his friend. “Fuck you, dawg. I was comfy.”
Kingston returns Bentley’s glare. “Obviously. My question is, why the fuck are you here in the first place?”
Bentley stands to his full height, puffing his chest out. “I came to check on Jazzy Jazz.”
Kingston lifts a brow. “And feel her up while she was sleeping?”
Bentley’s eyes swing to me, panicked. “I wasn’t feeling you up in your sleep. I mean...I guess I was, but I was sleeping, too. I didn’t do it on purpose.”
I smile softly. “I know, Bentley. It’s fine.”
He gives Kingston a cocky grin. “See? She likes it when I feel her up.”
I shake my head at their ridiculous posturing. “That’s not what I said, jackass.”
If the hard set of Kingston's jaw is any indication, he doesn't find it nearly as amusing. "Get lost, Fitzgerald. I need to talk to Jazz, and your presence isn't required."
Bentley glances at me again. "Do you want me to leave you alone with this jerkoff, baby girl? Say the word, and I'll kick his ass to the curb so we can snuggle some more."
“Actually, Bent, I would like you to stay.”
Bentley grins widely, showcasing his sexy as hell dimples. “Sure thing, babe.” He approaches my bed with a little extra swagger, before taking the space beside me, folding his arms behind his head. His eyes twinkle with amusement as he taunts Kingston. “Nap time was fun. We should do it again real soon.”
I’m pretty sure Kingston just growled before muttering, “Keep pushing it, motherfucker.”
Kingston goes to shut the door, but I speak up before he gets the chance. “Leave it open.”
“I’d rather not. Peyton saw me walking up the stairs, and she’s definitely not happy I came to see you. Do you really want to make it easier for her to barge in here?”
I sigh. “Fine, but stay off my bed.”
He scowls. “So, it’s okay for Bentley, but not for me? Why’s that?”
I’m not about to expose Bentley’s emotional breakdown, so I shrug instead.
Kingston glowers and drops into the chair Bentley had occupied earlier. Why is it so sexy when a guy straddles a chair backward? It’s not helping that Kingston’s freshly showered and smells really good. Between the two of them, my whole damn room smells like hot guy.
“Why are you here, Kingston? I told you I needed time.”
“We need to talk. It’s been two goddamn weeks. I need to know what fucking happened in that forest from your point of view.”
“The police know everything that happened. I don’t really feel like rehashing it again.”
“Quit being so damn stubborn. If you recall, I have access to resources the police don’t.”