"You realize how weird all of this is, right?"
"No," he answers sincerely. "I care about what happens to you. Friends or whatever, I'll always take care of you."
I try not to make a face and call him out on his bullshit, because my gut is telling me something's off. I consider myself an expert at detecting untruths, and he's not sharing something.
I walk him out to the front steps of the administration building.
"Come here," he beckons, opening his arms. I lean into his hug, resting my head on his chest.
"This still doesn't feel right, Parker. I know you're not telling me everything."
He kisses the top of my head and assures me again, "You don't have anything to worry about."
When I ease out of his arms, I catch a glimpse of Grant and Lily walking along the circular drive toward the library. I'll need to explain to Grant what he might've just witnessed between Parker and me. But ... should I have to? Because we're not really together. The parameters of non-dating are so ... fuzzy.
"So what, your rule doesn't apply to him?" Parker nods toward Grant just as he disappears.
"What do you mean? And how do you know about Grant?"
"You go to school with my brother. You're friends with my cousin. And they used to date."
"Lance and Lily?" I question in abhorrence. "How close is your family?!"
"Lily and Grant!" Parker stresses impatiently. "They dated for like a year. It was serious. Nothing casual like what Nina and I had. And you won't even go on a date with me. But you can be in a relationship with him? Why bother with the bullshit excuse about not touching guys your friends have been with? You just had to tell me you weren't interested."
I'm not going to argue with him about semantics because I did tell him I wasn't interested. I may have wrapped that message within my friendship rule. But ... what the fuck?! "They dated? For a year?"
"Yes." He drives the point in emphatically. "They broke up last winter. But I was always under the impression it wasn't permanent. Like they planned to get back together."
"Who said that?"
"Lily. She asked for some time apart," he informs me.
"Not Grant?" I clarify.
He shakes his head.
"Oh," I breathe, my head reeling. My heart is fluttering in full-blown panic mode. "I gotta go."
I don't hear anything else Parker says as I walk away, following the same path to the library that Lily and Grant took. My phone beeps and I absently remove it from my messenger bag.
Tutor session changed to study room D.
I talk myself out of panicking. Because ... well, what do I have to panic about? He's not mine, I shouldn't care. Except my pounding heart doesn't give a shit. It does care, and needs answers. Now.
When I walk into the library, I search for either Grant or Lily. I find them together in an aisle toward the back of the library. When I come upon them, they appear to be engaged in a serious conversation. So I do what Brendan would do (he's obviously a horrible influence) and I move along the aisle next to them to listen. I know, I'm going to hell. But at least Brendan ... yeah, that doesn't help.
"I didn't know it was serious," Lily says quietly.
"It's ... complicated," Grant explains, his eyes lower in apology. "But I'd like it to be."
"Oh," she breathes. "I just thought you were having fun. I didn't realize ..."
"I thought this was what you wanted?" he asks, concern drawing his brows together.
She smiles warmly. "It is." Her smile transitions into her vibrant one. "I'm happy for you. I was just surprised when I saw you together on Monday."
"That's why I wanted to tell you ... to be honest with you about how I feel about her." His eyes flicker, waiting for her reaction.
"Well, thank you, I appreciate that. And I really am happy for you." Her expression is heartfelt, her smile never wavering. But I can't see her eyes from my vantage, peering through the small space above the books.
Grant studies her for a second, like maybe he sees something that makes him hesitant to believe her. But then he smiles softly. "We're good? You and I? I will always care about you, Lily. Always. I'm here for you whenever you need me."
"So good," she says lightly, still smiling affectionately. Grant pulls her to him and gives her a hug. I get a glimpse of her face as she blinks back the shimmer in her eyes. She is not good. But damn, she's an amazing liar.
I feel like the slimiest scum of the earth after witnessing that. I really am a vile creature right now.
I slink off to the study room early to collect myself and figure out what the hell I'm going to do about all of this. Why didn't he tell me about him and Lily? The more I think about it, the more frustrated I become. By the time I reach the basement, I'm preparing my "what the hell" speech.
Distracted, I realize too late that I'll need the librarian to unlock the door for me. But when I reach the end of the aisle, I find the door to study room D isn't closed all the way. I turn on the light and enter to wait inside. I leave the door open, watching for Grant.
I can't sit, so I pace. And think ... way too much.
Lily obviously still has feelings for him. And she's been nothing but kind to me. She is the sweetest person on the planet. What the hell is he doing with me? I mean, not with me, but ... whatever. He has feelings for me? Like serious enough feelings that he has to tell his ex-girlfriend?
I cup the back of my head with both hands and groan in frustration. What am I doing? Besides falling in love with him.
"Holy shit," I say out loud and then cover my mouth in shock. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.--continues repeating in my head.
"I'm falling in love with him," I gasp.
"You weren't supposed to do this!" I yell at my heart, or soul, or whatever part of me that decided to connect with Grant against my will. Squirrel's love explanation is a little hazy right now.
The door slams shut. I turn around expecting Grant. But no one's there.
"What the hell?" I mutter, walking to the door to crack it open again. But it's locked.
The lights shut off.
"Hey!" I yell, slamming my fist against the door. "Someone's in here!" I wait. No response. "Hello! Open the door!" I slap against the wood, jostling the door handle. Nothing.
I can't see a thing. It's so black it's like I've been locked in a tomb.
My heartbeat picks up and I draw air into my lungs faster and faster.
I shake the doorknob and pound. "Let me out!" I scream at the top of my lungs. "Please! Let me out!" The last word breaks into a panicked sob. "Please!"
I'm light-headed and feel like I'm going to fall over. I slide my hand along the door to the wall. Pressing my back against it, I bend over like Brendan showed me, breathing in slow and deep. But I can't fill my lungs. My pulse is racing. I can't breathe. Oh, no. I can't breathe.
I slink to the floor, fighting for air.
"Stop it!" I holler, but the laugh gives away that I don't really mean it.
He reaches over me, his chest brushing against mine as I hold the remote out of his reach. But it's not really. He could easily get it from me if he wanted. His mouth is so close to mine. I swallow hard.
I squirm farther down the couch, squealing when his hand grabs my waist and tickles me. I've had a crush on him for so long. I'm hoping so hard that he might finally kiss me. I know he's older. But I'm finally looking like a teenager, and not the little kid he watches when my mother works late and my grandmother has to cover the night shift at the pharmacy. I've only ever been the little kid upstairs to him. I want him to see I'm not anymore.
I slide down to the floor. "We are not watching your stupid show." I attempt to crawl out of reach, still laughing, not realizing my skirt has slid up and my underwear is peeking out.
"Since when do wear lace underwear?"
I whip around and pull the skirt down, my face flaming red.
"You're wearing a bra now too, huh?" His eyes slide over my curves. I have the biggest boobs in
my grade. It's so embarrassing. I try to hide them with baggy shirts. But today I'm wearing a tank top. It's hard not to notice that I'm not a flat-chested, pig-tail wearing little girl anymore. I wanted him to notice. But now that he has, my stomach feels sick.
He crawls over me. Something's different. My heart isn't beating with excitement anymore. It's pounding with fear.
He leans in to kiss me, but I turn my head. "Don't."
"What? You don't want me to?"
"I do," I fumble. But I don't really mean it anymore. His breath feels hot on my cheek. His body is balanced above me like he's doing a push-up. "I don't know."
"You know you do." He lowers himself. And I flip over before he's on top of me, trying to crawl out from under him. He presses me into the carpet, my hands are pinned under my shoulders. I squirm. "Yeah, you know you do."
"Get off," I choke. "I can't breathe."
His body is heavy. I try to push up, to knock him off, but I'm not strong enough. He presses harder against me. My lungs can't suck in air. "I can't breathe. Stop."
A hand slides along my thigh and cups my butt cheek. He squeezes.
I whimper. "Get off me!" I struggle to move, but he's so much bigger than I am. So much stronger. He's crushing me. I need to get out. "Get off me!"
His jeans rub against me; I can feel him. His hand grips the edge of my underwear. He pulls at it. I whimper again.
"No. No. No," I sob. My breath is caught. There's no air left.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" my grandmother shouts.
He scrambles off of me. The pressure on my chest releases but I'm still gasping for air.
"Get the fuck out of my house!" She follows him out of the apartment to the stairs. "You little piece of shit! I trusted you!"
I hear muffled words behind the closed door. Followed by a thumping so loud it's like he's jumping down the stairs to escape. Then there's silence. I remain balled up on the carpet that has burned my knees and my elbows. I cry until all the air is gone.
My grandmother doesn't return. I only know she's dead at the bottom of the stairs when I hear my mother scream hours later. I still haven't moved.
"Lana?"
I open my eyes. The lights are on. I'm on the floor with my knees pulled up into me, my arms holding them tight.
Grant is crouched in front of me. My eyes flit around wildly. His face. The open door.
He gently sets a hand on my shoulder.
"Don't touch me!" I scream and push him back. He stumbles to his feet. "Don't fucking touch me!"
Brendan is standing within the doorframe. His face hard and unreadable.
I stand. "Just don't touch me," I cry again. Grant holds his hands up, giving me space.
I bolt toward the door. Brendan backs away to allow me room to pass him.
Lance is in the hall. He flattens against the wall as I race by him.
"Lana!" I hear Ashton holler from farther down the corridor. I run up the stairs just as I hear her say, "Let me do this."
My feet can't move fast enough. Sobs fight to crawl out of my throat. I feel like I'm going to explode. I weave through the Court, branches scraping my arms. My feet stumble over uneven cobblestones. I don't stop until I'm released on the other side of the girls' dorm and sprint across the field.
I jump down to the cliff and fall to my knees on the rough surface. I slam my fist into it over and over again. I can't feel the pain, even when my skin splits and blood paints the stone. I choke on the cries that finally claw their way out from within my chest.
I lift my head and scream. The scream comes from somewhere so deep, so buried, I feel it in the deepest hollows of my soul. It extends across the water until it reaches the setting sun, where every last horrific shriek is captured and dragged down it into the darkness. And then it's gone. My demons are swept away with the wind.
I collapse.
My head falls upon a lap. Strong arms wrap comfort me in my weakness. I'm enveloped by the warmth of her body protecting me. She rocks me, consoling. Absorbing my pain and making it her own.
"I'm sorry for what happened to you," she says in my ear. "For what he did to you." Because she knows. "I scream out his name too sometimes."
The name she screams may be different than mine. But he's still the same person. The one who didn't hear us say no. Who made me start punching first. The one who took away my beliefs. And then cast my curse upon me.
"I trusted you," my grandmother's final words. And that trust killed her.
One day, Thaylina caught sight of the green cloak fluttering in the breeze as it darted between the trees. She followed it into the forest, her dagger strapped to thigh. The huntress snuck up upon the beast disguised as a man as he lulled a woman with a sultry song.
Ashton walks me back to the dorm. She won't let go of my hand, even though I keep promising her that I'm better. And I do feel better. Everyone really does need a screaming spot.
I hug Ashton and leave her outside my door, still wearing a worried expression. I try to smile to reassure her ... but it's not very reassuring.
I'm too exhausted to do anything but shower and dress in a tank top and shorts to crawl into bed. My brand new bed. The room is spectacular, and I want to appreciate it more, but I can't even focus enough to take in all of the magnificence that Serge and Ashton put into the space.
I do know the bed is huge and feels like a cloud. I knock off the pile of pillows (an abundance of throw pillows must be a designer thing) and slip under the silky pale grey sheets. The duvet is silvery blue and is the softest thing ever. Above me, sheer curtains encase the bed, hung from poles attached to the ceiling. I leave the sheers open and lay on my side.
Small lights dance across the wall in a random pattern. They remind me of ... fireflies. I smile. I guess I'm glad that I do tell Ashton everything. Or everything pertaining to Grant anyway.
A plush navy-blue couch is pushed up against the wall with an oval, shiny-white coffee table in front of it, set upon a silvery-blue rug that matches the duvet.
A new desk replaces the old one in the same spot. This one is metallic silver, and it has an ornate bookcase attached to it, teetering toward the ceiling so high that it's tempting gravity.
Words are painted in black against the white walls in the most elegant calligraphy I've ever seen.
Honesty.
Belief.
Trust.
Kindness.
Boldness.
Authenticity.
Thoughtfulness.
Honor.
Loyalty.
Respect.
Confidence.
Perception.
Nobility.
Perfection.
Compassion.
The curses. All of the ones I've revealed to Ashton, including who belonged to them. In the middle of all of our ruin are Squirrel's wise words. The same ones Grant repeated.
Love never hurts. Ever.
I laugh. She's not subtle, is she?
A knock jostles me from near sleep. "I swear I'm alright," I yell, knowing it's Ashton.
"Open up!" she demands.
I groan, crawl out of the comfort of the huge bed and turn on the light.
When I open the door, I blink. Standing behind Ashton are Brendan, Lance and ... Grant.
"How--"
Before I can finish that sentence, Ashton pushes her way in. "We're having a sleepover. I call big spoon."
The guys slip by me with a nod hello. Grant stops in front of me and searches my eyes. When I smile weakly, he pulls me into him and hugs me tight. I feel like crying again, but don't have any more tears left. I bury my face in his chest and hug him back.
"I'm--"
"Don't say it," he tells me before I can apologize. His voice is firm like there's no room for argument. So I squeeze him tighter.
"Um, you might want to close the door before we get busted," Lance says, jumping up and landing in a sprawled position on the couch.
Grant closes the door.
/>
"How did you guys get up here?" I ask, then look to Grant. "Especially you?"
"I just never left," he explains. "Lily drove us, so I told her to go without me. And..." He hesitates.
"We're sworn to secrecy," Lance explains.
I search for Brendan and he winks.
"Another one of your secret passages?"
"Wait. You know about them?" Lance asks, sounding insulted once again that he was left out.
"Long story," I say. "But you guys don't have to--"
"Shut it," Brendan growls. "We're here. We're staying. Get in bed so we can all cuddle."
"Wait. Uh." Grant leans in and whispers. "Is there somewhere private we can talk a second?"
I motion toward the door to the bathroom that I share with the room next to mine. Which is currently empty.
"We don't want to hear you having sex!" Ashton hollers.
Grant's eyes widen.
"He doesn't find toilets seductive," I reply with a cheeky grin. "I already tried that."
Grant laughs, recalling the day he walked in on me drying off boob sweat in the ninth hole shack's bathroom.
The guys don't get it, so they just eye me like I'm crazy. Ashton laughs because of course she knows. Except now that I re-examine their faces, Brendan's looking at Grant like he's crazy. I shake my head at him and follow Grant into the bathroom.
The first thing he does is turn on the light.
"Is this okay?" he asks, scanning the small bathroom that houses a shower and toilet.
"Yeah," I assure him with an appreciative smile. "Just keep the light on."
"I'm deathly afraid of spiders, just so you know. Your claustrophobia has nothing on my reaction to finding one of those things on me."
He evokes a laugh, which I know is what he was trying to do. To help me feel better about my panic attack in the library.
I love this guy. Dammit. Stupid Squirrel and his magical brownies.
Grant's eyes narrow, looking down at my hand. Then they widen in alarm. He gently cradles my right hand and examines it. It's red, swollen, and scraped raw. "Can you bend your fingers?"
"Not right now. It's throbbing and feels like it's on fire, but I don't think it's broken." I don't tell him that I've fractured my hand before ... and my wrist--which forced me to learn how to throw a punch properly.
"Have you iced it?"
I shake my head.
Grant sticks his head out of the bathroom. "Ashton, do you have ice or ice packs?"
I don't hear Ashton's answer before Grant closes the door again. "Guess it was too much anger for a phone call, huh?"