I needed to get in, get out, drive back home, and sleep for the rest of the weekend without the anxiety of another nightmare waking me up.
Kicking an empty beer bottle out of the way, I made my way through the opened door of the house. The party was much busier tonight than last weekend. Too many people were crammed into the open floor plan. Weed and stale beer lingered in the air, along with cheap cologne and perfume from those who were trying too hard to get laid. I hardly managed to swallow back the putrid smell.
I skirted my gaze over the room quickly, trying to spot Atticus. There was a young couple arguing in the corner, a few girls gathered together on the disgusting couch, talking with their heads down low, and a lonesome dude with long blonde hair in the other chair, typing on his phone. I glanced to the other corner of the room, past a few girls dancing drunkenly, and my eyes widened. The heel of my Doc Martens squeaked on the hardwood as I spun around quickly.
Shit! What the hell are Wellington Prep boys doing here?
I bristled at the very vivid recollection of when I inevitably fucked my entire existence at both English Prep and Wellington Prep—the opposing prep school in the area—with an awful rumor I’d started revolving around one of their own.
I don’t even remember why I did it. The old Madeline was malicious in an attempt to protect herself and her tough-girl image. The new one realized that no matter how malicious or forthcoming you were, you still weren’t invincible.
And not long after I’d started the rumor and everything fell apart, karma made her stop at my house and completely ruined me. Everything before that moment became one giant blur. It was cruel how the worst memory of your life was the one that stood out the most. Fear was a strong and blinding emotion.
I shuffled my feet to the stairs, keeping my back to Cole, the one guy who should hate my fucking guts the most, and began climbing them hastily.
The damaged girl that now lived within my bones begged for me to apologize, but I was too ashamed to even look in his direction. I was a little afraid too.
I did him dirty.
Really dirty.
Each door in the upstairs hallway was shut, even Atticus’, but I wasn’t wasting any time. I raised my shaky fist to knock, and that was when Cole’s smooth voice sounded from behind.
“Did you think you could sneak past me?”
Since your back was to me, yes. I actually did, Cole.
My hand dropped to my side slowly, and I had to make the decision between fight or flight. My limbs ached to take me into the room in front of me and to slam the door in his face. But I was stronger than that. I was. At least I used to be.
I ran my tongue ov
er my lips before spinning around and locking onto his green eyes. Cole was an attractive guy. He was a bad boy through and through. Dark, shiny hair. Thick eyelashes and a strong jaw. His bottom lip had a tiny, faint scar in it that led down to his chin—the perfect touch to his bad-boy appeal.
“Cole,” I managed to croak out. It infuriated me that I could hear the fear in my tone.
“I knew it’d only be a matter of time until I ran into you.”
I nodded my head as my eyes dropped.
I heard him shuffling closer to me. There was no one else in the hallway. Everyone was locked behind closed doors, doing God knew what in random bedrooms. For a moment, I took my eyes off my shoes and glanced over at the landing of the steps. Cole’s entire crew was staring up at us in the midst of the party around them, all with swag-like grins covering their faces.
Oh, God. What does he have planned?
I began panicking. The floor felt like Jell-O under my feet. “Listen, Cole,” I started, backing up just a hair. “I’m…” I darted my gaze away from his haughty one.
He took a step closer, taking advantage of my paranoia. “What’s that? Cat got your tongue there, Madeline? It’s funny, because it didn’t seem to have your tongue when you told that nasty fucking rumor to Christian fucking Powell.” His wide shoulders came closer to mine, caging me in against the door. I wished that Atticus was on the other side and he’d open it so I’d fall backwards and out of Cole’s trap. Atticus likely wasn’t the hero of any situation, but for now, he could be mine if he’d just open the fucking door. My breaths were coming in short spasms. My skin grew clammy.
I used to be strong. I didn’t put up with people’s shit. People were scared of me, not the other way around.
But now I was weak and scared. I wanted to turn around and bang my fists on the door, begging someone to save me.
Cole’s knee went between my legs as his hard chest pressed against mine. He smelled like the ocean, and it would’ve been refreshing if I wasn’t frozen with fear. I deserve this. Just like I deserved the karma I got served after.
A whimper came from deep inside my chest, and Cole’s glare vanished for a split second. “You told him I was a rapist.”
My eyes shut as the word assaulted me.
Darkness clouded my vision as I tried to push away the thoughts scratching at the walls of my brain. My hands reached up on their own, and I put them on Cole’s chest. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, about to shove him away.