“Do you know why?”
“No. Matt’s the secretive type. But it was okay. I had Bailey by then. She’s the sister I’d always wanted.”
“Kalen got lucky there.”
“He sure did. I make sure to tell him every time I see him.” Things quieted for a second before she came at me with a dreaded question. “Have you ever been in love?”
Had I? “No.”
“I should have figured as much.”
She had no idea why I’d never love anyone. There were so many fucked up reasons, and trust was one of the biggest.
“What about girlfriends?” she asked.
“I don’t do girlfriends. But you’re not off the hook. Have you ever been in love?”
She glanced away when she said, “Once.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
When she nodded, I wanted to kill whoever it was. Not just because he’d been lucky enough to have that gift, but because of the haunted look in her eye.
“What happened?” I asked.ElevenLizzyThere were some stories you never wanted to retell. This was one of them. But for some reason, I began the story I’d never even told my best friend.
“A new boy transferred to our school—Beau Roach. It was the biggest news since someone leaving because their parents had a financial fall from grace.” I glanced up from under the hair I’d allowed to fall forward to partially hide me.
Striker’s face held no judgment, but I could tell he was tense. Maybe it was the line of muscles in his neck or jaw. I wanted to clam up because who wanted to reveal these things to anyone?
“Every girl in school wanted him to be hers, and every boy wanted to be him or with him. He had that perfect combination of confidence bordering on cocky and charming.”
“All the perfect Cs.”
“I guess. He was crude too. But stupidly, I found that charming as well.” I sighed. In retrospect, I could see the warning bells I’d missed. “I wasn’t one of those girls who fell easily. It took a while before I let my walls down enough that I would even go out with him. He worked hard at it.”
Striker smiled some. “I bet he did.”
“There were things I didn’t compromise. One of them, my virginity.” When his smile slipped, I knew he’d clued in where I was going. “Beau was respectful and told me he would wait. And he did—for a while. He convinced me to go to this party I hadn’t really wanted to go to. The guy throwing it didn’t have a good reputation.”
I’d asked myself many times if I hadn’t gone, would things have turned out differently? A counselor I’d spoken to had said it likely would have happened on another day, assuming I’d continue to deny him, but who really knew?
“Stupidly, I let him talk me into drinking. When I’d had a little too much, he suggested I go sleep it off in one of the rooms. I trusted him and followed.” I closed my eyes as the night flooded back in. “I’ll spare you the details, but you can guess.”
Still, it played out in my mind. How he’d lain there with me and touched me. We’d done plenty of things, but this time when I said stop, he didn’t. I remembered begging him and trying to fight him off. None of it worked.
“Did you tell anyone?”
I nodded. “My parents. Before you ask, they believed me. They took me to the authorities. I sat through hours of completing a rape kit, but it turned out to be unnecessary.” I read the confusion in his gaze. “Beau’s family is wealthy. I overheard their lawyers threatening to ruin my parents, and I couldn’t let that happen. Without them knowing, I told the police I was lying.”
Falling on my sword, so to speak, for my family had labeled me a liar. School became a hated place as everyone looked at me like the girl who’d cried wolf. I lost friends. I lost my dream of going to Columbia—Beau’s parents were on the alumni committee. I went to Boston University instead, following my brother. It turned out okay. I’d made a friend for life in Bailey.
“If I’d been there, I’d have killed him,” Striker said.
“Believe me, my brother made him pay. He was suspended for the beating he put on Beau. His parents threatened to press charges. I threatened to reinstate mine. The police still had the rape kit that showed the abrasions and his DNA. They dropped their threats.”
“I still want to kill him,” he repeated.
“There was a time I would have killed him myself. But I’m over it.”
His brow lifted. “Are you sure about that?”
Honesty, right, I thought. “Okay, I’m not completely over it. I’m over him,” I declared. “And maybe I have some trust issues.” He gave me a look, urging me to think about my statement. “Fine. I have trust issues. But if I’m being honest, it’s more about trusting myself. Here I believed this guy. I loved him and thought he had my best interest at heart, and I was wrong.”