by Laura Lee
Ainsley giggles when she sees both guys dropping their jaws. “Sorry, not sorry, boys.”
Ainsley and I run up the deck stairs and step inside the warm house. I know Kingston and Reed are right behind us, but I never look back as Ainsley and I make our way to the crowd of people dancing. We squeeze our way to the middle and began shaking our asses, arms high in the air, not giving a shit about being barefoot. One song turns into many until Ainsley and I are sticky with sweat and out of breath.
When I catch sight of Reed looking at Ainsley like he wants to eat her alive, I lean into her ear. “You’re so getting his P in your V tonight. And maybe your A, too.”
She laughs and shoves me playfully. “Shut up! You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"
“Probably not,” I answer honestly. “But you love me anyway.”
Ainsley pulls me into her arms. “I really do, Jazz. You’re my girl. If you ever need anything, all you need to do is ask.”
I give her a big squeeze before I pull back, my eyes filling with tears. “Okay, no more mushy shit. You’re going to ruin my makeup. Go getchu some lovin’.”
She laughs as we’re weaving our way through the mob. When we finally reach Reed, Kingston is nowhere in sight.
“Where’s Kingston?” I ask Reed.
He jerks his head behind him. I instantly spot Kingston and Peyton standing against the back wall. Based on her flailing arms, I’m guessing she’s going off on him about something. I don’t know why Kingston is indulging her, but I’m going to put him out of his misery.
I incline my head toward them. “Looks like Kingston needs a rescue.”
“God, she’s such a bitch. I don’t understand why she doesn’t give up already.” Ainsley scowls. “Do you want us to go with you?”
“Nah, I can handle Peyton.”
Reed gives Ainsley a small smile. “You wanna get out of here? My parents are away for the weekend.”
Her eyes widen as she decodes his statement. “Absolutely.”
“Have fun, you two.” I give them a little finger wave, trying to hold in my smirk.
Kingston stands a little taller as he notices my approach. Peyton looks over her shoulder to see what's snagged his attention, and her eyes narrow when she spots me. She says one last thing to him, but the music is too loud for me to hear, before stomping away.
“What was that about?”
“Same shit. Different day.” Kingston tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “You look warm. You wanna get some fresh air? I stashed your shoes next to the barbeque out back.”
“Sure.”
Kingston leads me through the mass of bodies with his fingers threaded through mine. I shiver when we step outside from the sharp contrast in temperature.
Kingston rubs his hands over my arms. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I point to the small firepit down below. “But maybe we can sit down there for a bit?”
Nobody seems bothered by the fact that you can’t have campfires on public beaches, so I roll with it.
He nods and continues walking until we reach the small gathering in the sand. There's only one empty Adirondack chair, so Kingston takes a seat and pulls me onto his lap. I sigh in relief as my body instantly warms. We sit there for a few moments, just looking at the flames, soaking in the warmth.
Kingston rests his chin on my shoulder. “Where’d Ainsley and Reed go?”
“I don’t think you want the answer to that question.”
He groans. “You’re probably right.”
“Have you seen Bentley?”
"About fifteen minutes ago. He was talking to some chick, but he seemed pretty far gone. I told him to text me when he's ready to leave, and we'd take him home." Kingston's finger sneaks under the hem of my top, slowly moving back and forth over my skin.
“Is he going to be okay? This overindulgence thing seems to be getting worse.”
“Hence why I’ve remained completely sober tonight.” Kingston’s chest rises and falls as he takes a deep breath. “On Monday, it’ll be exactly two years since someone close to us died, so I think he’s feeling it pretty hard.”
“Carissa?”
Kingston’s arms tighten around me. “He told you about her?”
“Not exactly. But Ainsley told me how she died.”
I feel him swallow hard before asking, “Did Ains tell you about the events leading up to Carissa’s death?”
I slowly shake my head. “She said the rest was Bentley’s story to tell.”
He says nothing for a long moment, before tapping my hip, prompting me to get up. “Let’s take a little walk.”
I scan the people sitting in a circle around the fire. The combination of music floating from the house and the buzz of conversation should prevent anyone from hearing us, but I can understand Kingston’s need for privacy. I have a feeling this story’s going to be a doozy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
JAZZ
Kingston and I stroll down the beach a little until we’re far enough away from prying ears. He props himself on one of the boulders edging the beach, pulls me down onto his lap again, and wastes no time getting to the story.
“Bentley blames himself for her suicide.”
I twist my upper body so I can see his face. “What?! Why?”
“It’d probably be easier to understand if I start from the beginning,” he says. “We were all in the same kindergarten class. The guys and I become friends on day one, same with Ainsley and Carissa. Since Ains and I have always been close, the five of us spent a lot of time together throughout our childhood. I think Bent and Rissa fell in love before any of us understood what that meant.”
Poor Bentley. Losing someone you love dearly is hard enough. I can’t imagine how difficult it would be when that person takes their own life.
“What happened to her?”
"Oddly enough, Bentley and Rissa were never officially a couple. Carissa refused to give them that label because she was supposedly afraid it'd ruin their friendship. That was complete horse shit, in my opinion, because whenever one of them wasn't dating someone else, they'd act like they were a couple in every way. They lost their virginity to each other, for fuck’s sake. And if one of them was hooking up with someone else, it’d never last long because they preferred to be with each other.
"It was all very strange, and probably more than a little toxic, but there was no doubt they loved each other fiercely. In retrospect, I think Carissa refused to take the plunge because she was insecure. Maybe she figured if Bentley slept around enough during his teenage years, they could be together afterward. The irony in that whole situation is that Bentley was crazy about the girl; I don't think that would've ever changed. He didn't want anyone else, but when he saw Rissa hooking up with other guys, he’d get pissed and act out.
"They had this huge fight one night. Bent got invited to a frat party, and he was told to bring some friends, especially girls, to even out the ratio. Carissa didn't want to go. Her older sister was in college and warned her about all the crazy shit that goes down in frat houses. She didn't want Bentley to go either, probably because she didn't want him fucking someone else." He takes a deep breath. "But...we went anyway and got completely shitfaced."
"Uh-oh. What happened?" I squeeze Kingston's thigh, encouraging him to continue.
“At some point in the night, pictures starting showing up on Instagram. We were tagged in most of them, so Carissa got a front-row seat to the half-naked sorority chicks hanging all over Bent and Reed. We all lied about our age, so those girls had no idea the guys were barely old enough to drive.”
“Just Bentley and Reed?” I ask. “I find that hard to believe.”
I feel Kingston shrug. "I was already with Peyton at that point, and she was with us. Peyton wouldn't leave my side, so it was pretty obvious I was off-limits. Anyway, unbeknownst to us, Carissa saw the pictures online and drove up to the party, planning to drag Bentley out."
“What happened when sh
e got there?”
Kingston hugs me tighter. “When Rissa walked in, one of the sorority chicks was giving Bentley head, right there in the middle of the main floor. I honestly believe he was so fucked up, he barely knew what was happening. Bentley never knew Carissa was there. I saw her, but I didn’t do anything when she ran off crying because I had assumed she was going home. I thought it was their normal on again, off again, jealousy bullshit.”
“I don’t think I like where this is heading. Where did she wind up?”
“She stayed at the party. I think she was on a mission to hurt Bentley because he hurt her. We found out after the fact that she didn’t leave the frat house until the next day. She was picked up by Campus Security sometime that afternoon because she was wandering around in a daze, crying and mumbling to herself.”
Kingston doesn't need to say another word. I know, without a doubt, what happened. Bentley's extreme reaction to my attack and his adamant denial of drugging me makes so much sense now. I don't even realize I'm crying until Kingston kisses my trailing tears.
“She was roofied?”
Kingston takes a deep breath. “Yep. We never found out exactly how many men raped her, but Rissa’s body was... whatever happened, it was pretty brutal. She was so confused at first, she refused to go to the hospital or the police. Campus Security tried convincing her to get checked out, but she demanded to leave. Rissa later told Ainsley all she could think about was getting their scent off of her. She scrubbed so hard with a loofah, she gave herself friction burns on close to half her body.”
I wince. “Jesus.”
"Yeah." He clears his throat. "When she told her parents a few days later, they immediately took her to the hospital, and the hospital staff subsequently contacted the police. Unfortunately, Carissa had washed off any DNA that may have been left behind, and the drug was already out of her system, so she had no proof. When the police investigated, every single person living in that frat house claimed they had never met her, that she was never there. I told the police differently, but it was two people's word against many.
“After that night, the only person Rissa would confide in was Ainsley. She refused to see us, even Bentley, which killed him. Ains thinks Carissa couldn’t handle being around any men because she’d avoid her dad, too, whenever possible. My sister was afraid to leave Rissa alone with no one to talk to, so she practically moved into her house. It’s the only reason we know as much as we do.
“Carissa couldn’t stand being touched, no matter how innocent. She’d stay in bed for days at a time. Had severe nightmares—would wake up screaming or crying, completely terrified, but never remembered why. Carissa admitted to Ains that she felt like she was losing her mind, that she just wanted to make it stop.
“Rissa’s nightmares only got worse, so she started forcing herself to stay awake as much as possible because she didn’t want to endure another bad dream. Ainsley thinks Riss was actually dreaming about the rape, like maybe her subconscious mind was trying to jog her memory. After Carissa started hallucinating from lack of sleep, her doctor prescribed sleeping pills.
"Rissa convinced my sister to go home, swore she'd be fine after a good night's rest. She even agreed to make an appointment with the therapist her parents had been begging her to see. Ainsley would've never left if she thought Carissa was disingenuous. I don't know if Riss was a really great actress, or if she wound up changing her mind, but that same night, she swallowed over half the bottle of pills and never woke up."
“That poor girl.”
God, as traumatized as I’ve been since my attack, I can’t even imagine the horrors flashing through Carissa’s mind after something like that.
I release a heavy sigh. "I don't understand why Bentley feels responsible, though. What happened to Carissa was horrible, but he had no part in it.”
"Bent thinks if he never pushed her to go to the party, they would've never fought. Then, maybe he would've never got so wasted or hooked up with that girl. He thinks it was his fault Carissa was even at the party."
“Well, I guess my secret is out.”
Kingston and I both startled at the sound of Bentley's voice. Bentley steps out of the shadows from just beyond the boulders and walks toward us. The flame from his lighter illuminates his face as he lights the blunt sticking out of his mouth.
I jump off Kingston’s lap onto the sand. “Bentley, what are you doing out here?”
He takes a drag from the joint and exhales. “Needed some fresh air. Found a quiet little spot to hang. At least until you two showed up.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Kingston asks. “Why didn’t you let us know you were sitting there?”
Bent takes another hit. “Found the topic of conversation riveting. Wanted to see where you were going with it.”
It’s fairly dark, but I can still see Kingston’s frown. “Dude, if—”
Bentley holds a hand up. “It’s cool, man. It’s not like you said anything that wasn’t true. I promised Jazz I’d tell her one day—you just beat me to it.” He turns to me. “Your boy did leave one thing out. Rissa was a dancer—ballet, like Ainsley. It was everything to her. That’s what the tat on my chest is about.”
Fuck. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so haunted before. My heart is breaking for this poor, lost soul. I don’t even think about it; I practically run into Bentley and throw my arms around him. He holds his arms out to the side at first, but then I see the joint fall to the sand right before he hugs me back.
“Bentley, I’m so, so sorry,” I mumble against his chest. “I understand why you feel guilty, but it’s not your fault. It’s just not. You can’t keep letting this haunt you.”
Bentley fists one of his hands in my hair and crushes me into him for just a moment, before letting go and stepping back.
He clears his throat. “I could really use a fucking drink, so I’m gonna head back to the party? You two coming?”
Kingston does that thing where he stares you down, trying to figure out what you’re thinking. Bentley stares right back, not cowering from the intense scrutiny in the least.
Kingston gives a single nod. “Let’s go.”
What? We’re going to let it drop just like that?
Kingston reaches for my hand, twining our fingers together, and doesn’t let go the entire way back to the house. When we get to the deck, Bentley heads inside straight for the bar.
“Should he really be drinking right now?”
I pull my shoes on as I watch Bentley place his order with the bartender. As soon as my feet are covered, we head back inside.
“We’re not leaving his side for the rest of the night,” Kingston assures me. “He’s obviously trying to numb himself. I’ll know when he’s reaching his limit. He’s close, but not quite there yet.”
Bentley approaches us, cup in hand, and takes a big swig. “This party’s lame. Lemme have another drink or two, and I'll be ready to bounce. You cool with that?"
“Sure.” Kingston’s eyes swing to me. “I have to take a piss. Don’t go anywhere.”
Bentley swings his arm around my shoulders. “Don’t worry, dawg, I’ll keep our girl nice and warm.”
Kingston’s jaw clenches, but he lets it slide. Before walking away, he meets my gaze and mouths, watch him.
I nod in reply.
“So, Jazzy Jazz, wanna talk about something not so fucking depressing?”
I wrap my arm around his middle. “Sure, Bent. What’d you have in mind?”
“You can start by telling me what color your panties are. It’ll help me get a better visual in my brain later.”
Bentley’s obviously using humor as a defense mechanism. After what I learned tonight, I suspect he’s been doing that for a while.
I roll my eyes playfully. “Sorry, bud. You’ll just have to make it up.”
He laughs. “Where’s the fun in that?”
There's a bunch of people suddenly gathering around the TV. I don't think anything of it until
the lewd comments start flying.
“Hot damn, look at that body,” one guy says.
“Her tits are a little smaller than I’d like, but I’d still fuck her in a heartbeat,” another one adds.
"No, shit. She deep throats like a damn porn star." I think that was the first guy again. "Can somebody get me a copy of this for the spank bank?"
What the fuck are they watching?
My eyes lift to screen, and when I see what's playing, my jaw slackens.
Bentley obviously sees it at the same time because his grip on me tightens. “What the fuck?”
My face heats as people start laughing and whistling. I think Bentley and I are both in shock because neither one of us moves to stop it. In 70-inch high def, I'm on my knees, blowing Kingston in the shower after Peyton's birthday party. Even worse, there's a clear view of everything. Every. Fucking. Thing. From the angle, it looks like someone was pointing their phone camera at the shower from right inside the doorway.
Kingston picks that moment to return and frowns when he sees our expression. He turns his head to see what’s drawing our attention and immediately charges forward.
“What the fuck is this shit?” Kingston yells. “Turn that shit off! Where the fuck is the remote?”
“Oh, God.” I slam my hand over my mouth.
I can't believe this is happening again. This time it's even worse because no one is protecting my modesty. Every single person in this room has now seen me completely naked. They know what I look like with a goddamn dick in my mouth.
Bentley launches into action then, manually turning the TV off. He’s a little slow due to his inebriation, so it takes much longer than I’d like.
"Oh, look, it's the stars of the show." Peyton sneers, golf clapping as she walks to the center of the gathered audience. "This seems to be a habit of yours." She flicks her finger between Kingston and me. "Are you two, like, trying to become porn stars or something? Or is it an exhibitionist thing?"
Kingston’s fists clench. “Peyton, you’re fucking dead if I find out you had anything to do with this.”