I close my eyes, inhaling deep and measured. “Dewey’s behind me, isn’t he?” And that’s it. I’m even more screwed. I grimace and turn around, mind racing to come up with an excuse, but it doesn’t matter.
It’s not Dewey.
Gwendolyn stands five feet away, staring up at the poster with a pale, horrified expression, blue eyes swimming with something devastated and stunned.
I hear the guys scrambling behind me, the ladder creaking. In that moment, I’m aware of two things. One, that they’re about to run and leave me holding the paint can. And two, that Gwendolyn has this all wrong.
“Do you think this is funny?” Her gaze drops to me, and her voice. Fuck, her voice. It’s rough with unshed tears and so much hurt that it’s like a physical blow. The intensity is a punch in the gut.
“Please, just wait!” I hold up a palm, beseeching. “This isn’t what it seems.”
It looks like it’s an actual effort for her to lift her arm, to extend a finger toward the wall. “There’s not a poster making fun of my brother on the wall?” Her eyes flick to the can in my hand. “And you’re not holding that paint can?”
I dart my gaze down to the can and chuck it toward the ladder. I hold up both my hands. “I just got here and saw them doing this. I swear. I’m as pissed as you are. They completely wrecked all the work we did.”
“Shut up.” Her words are a harsh whisper. “Shut the fuck up, Bates. Don’t you dare blame this on someone else. Oh, my god.” She presses her fists into her stomach like she’s staving off a sob, eyes shining with unshed tears. “This is about Friday night, isn’t it? You finally got me to take your disgusting ‘test’, and that’s all this was about, wasn’t it? This whole time. Tricking Gwendolyn ‘The Freak’ Adams into getting on her knees and debasing herself for you.”
“Holy shit,” Heston says from beside me, voice cracking. “She gave you a blow job? Oh, shit, this just keeps getting better.” He laughs, leaning forward to peer at her. “And is that a mark on her neck? Jesus, this is gold.”
I turn around, shoulders heaving, and feel my face crumple into something murderous. Heston looks over at the others, and then back at me, a bitter smirk plastered on his face as he backs away. A second later they’re all gone, bolting across campus.
When I face Gwendolyn again, it’s the most painful thing I’ve ever seen. Her expression is pure devastation, tears now tracking down her cheeks. She looks broken.
My heart clenches painfully, because I wasn’t lying to Xavier before. Seeing her hurt? It’s agony to me. But another part of me is incredulous and pissed off.
I scream, “I didn’t trick you!” and wave my arm around erratically. “This wasn’t me. I would never do that to you, and I’d never fucking do that to Micha. If you’d just calm down and listen to me, you’d—” Nothing I’m saying is working, I can tell from the anguish in her eyes, and that’s the scary thing. I’m used to her being mad at me, hating me, fighting me, tooth and nail and piss and vinegar. But the heartbroken defeat in her eyes? Desperation runs through me. I swallow thickly. “Gwendolyn, I lov—”
“No!” She sobs, stepping back. “Shut up! You do not get to say that to me. What is wrong with you?”
I step toward her. “But—”
“Did you know it was him, all along?” She keeps backing away, no matter how many steps I take toward her.
I stop, face falling as I watch the tears stream down her cheeks. “What are you talking about?”
“Heston’s shoes!” she cries. “You can’t tell me you didn’t know! He’s your friend, you live with him. How many people have orange shoes?”
It suddenly dawns on me. “Wait, Heston’s the one who kicked you?” I can’t even fathom the disbelief in my voice. It makes perfect sense. Nevertheless, it’s still a lot to wrap my head around. This is a guy I’ve spent serious amounts of time with. If he were capable of something fucked up, shouldn’t I know?
I’m still processing this when Gwen shakes her head, backing away once again.
“Fuck you, Bates.” She swipes the tears from her cheeks, and draws her spine up straight, looking me in the eye. “Never speak to me, or anyone in my family again.”
In a blink, her shield is clicked firmly back in place, effectively shutting me out. I don’t try to stop her when she walks away. Why bother? Everything is stacked against me.
I should have known.
It was all too easy, the way we could just fall into each other like that. Too easy to think she could love me back. Too easy to think that she could trust me. If it hadn’t been this, it would have been something else, and I don’t deserve any less. Hadn’t I already decided that?
The rage I felt toward Heston is dwarfed by the jagged, sharp things rattling around in my empty chest, a multitude of ‘could have been’s and ‘shouldn’t have’s.
But I should have seen them coming. Gwendolyn Adams hit me like a hurricane and now that she’s gone, there’s nothing but pain and destruction in her wake.
I have no fucking idea how to clean up this mess.
They’re all in the suite when I arrive. Emory and Ansel are on the couch, Xavier is in the kitchenette, and Heston is just walking out of his room.
Gwen was right.