Dissolve (3 page)

“If I knew the guy’s name, I’d report him to the police and roast his ass!” She growls, shoveling oatmeal gracefully into her face.

“I didn’t even think about that,” I murmur. “Crap. I’m sorry, Trist.”

“It’s fine,” She assures me. “How could you have known?”

“I could’ve checked his wallet or something. I should’ve known he was reaching for the drinks to drop a pill in one of them when he cornered me. I could’ve -”

“No, stop,” She holds up a manicured hand. “I won’t let you blame yourself. There was nothing you could’ve done, okay?”

“But I was there with you! I was supposed to look after you -”

“What?” Trist laughs. “Oh, Ev. I know you’re the motherly type, but you are seriously silly sometimes.”

I frown, feeling useless and angry and sad all at once. She reaches out and pats me cheek.

“Hey, I appreciate everything, okay? I know you always got my back. That’s part of why I love you to death.”

I feel a little better with her touch, and eat my own oatmeal tentatively.

“Did Kai…” She trails off. “Just before I passed out, I swear I saw Kai punch the guy. Did he?”

“I don’t know,” I shake my head. “I got there after it all happened. But he was definitely there.”

“So Kai saved me,” She muses, a tiny blush blossoming on her cheeks. “Who knew he was so on top of everything? Well, I definitely have to thank him now.”

She winks, and I groan.

“You said you’d never sleep with him!”

“I won’t! But there are…
other
things I can do.” She grins. I laugh, suddenly glad to have her here with me, so glad she’s alright. Thankfulness floods my every pore. She laughs with me, but when we fall silent I notice the tears in her eyes. I grasp her hand and squeeze tight.

“I-I was so scared, Evelyn.”

“I know,” I murmur. “I know you were.”

She cries in my lap, and I stroke her hair as comfortingly as I can. It reminds me of Mom - the way she stroked my hair as I cried the day after that night at the play. She didn’t know what it was about - I never told her - but she comforted me all the same. She was always the type to pry into my life, but after one or two questions I never answered she didn’t ask again. She just hugged me and told me she’d always be there for me if I needed to talk. It was the silent reassurance I needed. All Dad did, when I visited him for the weekends, was ask about my grades, my plans for the future. He never cared. Only Mom did. He never even saw the inner pain I was struggling with, too wrapped up in his hunting supply store and new, buxom wife to give me the time of day.

Sex is the only thing men care about, I remind myself as I brush my teeth.

After Trist calms down, she insists she’s well enough to go to work at the coffee shop - that it would soothe her nerves to do something familiar. She’d gotten ready with all the speed of a hummingbird, cheerily saying goodbye as she ran out the door. She’s so strong. One day I want to be as strong as she is.

THREE

I’ve got class in thirty minutes, so I pack my bag and head for the bus. Mom’s alimony wasn’t the sort that allowed her to get me a car on my sixteenth birthday, and Dad didn’t trust me enough to take care of my grades, let alone a car. But he did teach me over one summer, and helped me get my license. For that and only that, I’m thankful to him.

The bus is fine, but I’m always wary of weird guys. I sit towards the front, preferably by a woman, and put my headphones in. I don’t play any music, because I don’t want to lose one of my senses while I’m navigating streets and bus stops. It’s not smart. So I just pretend to listen to music, that way no one will bother me if they think I can’t hear them.

I was listening to music, that night. That’s what let him get me.

I shake my head and focus on the gray world of Old Haven outside the bus window. Seagulls settle in December-naked trees, icy puddles of slush gathering in gutters and on rooftops. The town of Old Haven isn’t big, but it has a mall and a few good restaurants and a decent club scene. Although after last night, I’m not excited to go clubbing anytime soon.

The bus stops at a red light. I stare at the window at the cars stopped parallel to us. A sleek black motorcycle is right next to us, a girl in a helmet clinging to the driver - a guy with a black helmet and leather jacket. He puts his feet out to stabilize the motorcycle and raises his visor. He looks back at the girl and says something, and she laughs. He catches my eye through the bus window - Kai. Of course it is. Why is he everywhere all of a sudden? I’d seen him other mornings just like this, with a new girl each time, but now I have a name to put to the face. Kai Jackson - the guy who can’t keep his hands off women. The guy who saved my roommate last night.

He shoots me a smirk - that lazy, self-assured smirk that sends heat under every inch of my skin. Thankfully the light changes, and the bus rumbles away as he revs up. He passes us in a reckless blur, the girl’s joyful screaming piercing through the bus windows easily, her long, luxurious black hair whipping behind her like a banner of midnight. The old woman next to me chuckles and shakes her head.

“What a little show-off.”

I smile. She has no idea how right she is. Kai’s motives still haunt me - why did he save Trist? Guys don’t just do something for nothing - they always want something in return, usually sex. And with Kai, I’d say especially sex. Maybe he just wanted to be seen as a good guy, to pump up his ego? That’s also possible. Maybe he just wanted to beat someone up. Maybe he’s violent and bloodthirsty. I have no idea - I don’t know him. He’s a complete mystery to me and only me, it seems.

The bus stops in front of Montcrest University, and I get off. We aren’t a big campus, nor a public one - Montcrest is a private college, very old, and very respectable. The lawns are yellow and covered in slushy snow, the sidewalks iced over. Icicles hang from the eaves of ancient gothic-architecture-style buildings. It doesn’t have the stellar funding and programs of Stanford or Yale, nor does it have the stringent acceptance ratio, either. It’s a mediocre school that prides itself on having a lot of history - and a ton of old white famous dead dudes on its alumni list. Because it isn’t an Ivy, apparently it’s semi-affordable, too. Not that I would know. Sixty-thousand a year is still a huge amount of money for my family. Dad pays half, and FAFSA pays the rest. Mom contributes to my living expenses, and I’ve been searching for a job since November to lessen their burden, but it turns out no one wants a future English major who wants to teach middle school. But I’ll find something soon. I hope. It’s only my first year - I took a few months off after graduation to take a trip to Spain with my mom, who’s half-Spanish and wanted to visit Spain since forever. After that, I applied to Montcrest and got in for the spring semester. I’ve been here ever since.

“Evelyn!”

I turn and watch Mrs. Smalls jog up to me. Her strawberry-blonde hair is pulled back in a bun, and her casual converse and jeans make her a campus favorite. She’s young, too - probably 28 or 29 - and compared to the rest of the fifty-something faculty, she’s a breath of fresh air.

“Hi Mrs. Smalls,” I smile. She stops in front of me and pants, hands on her knees.

“Sorry, I haven’t run like that since high school track.”

“It’s fine! What’s wrong?”

“Oh,” She looks up at me with hazelnut eyes. “Nothing! I just heard the news - your piece got accepted for the Hilldebrant scholarship!”

“Holy shit - I mean, crap,” I hiss. “Are you serious?”

The Hildebrant scholarship is the largest scholarship in the school by far, given only to English majors. Each person is required to submit an essay on the importance of education in the modern world. I’m not the best essay writer; I’m clumsy with my words and always leave the essay until the last-last-last minute, but I try my hardest to make it sound halfway decent.

“I’m dead serious,” Mrs. Smalls chuckles. “You and three other finalists.”

“What happens now?”

“We wait. They’ll judge each, assign the winner. Then there’s a small dinner at a local hotel, you know Bernard’s?”

“The fancy place with the doorman downtown?”

“Exactly. There’s an awards dinner there. If you win, that’s a whole year paid, just for you.”

“Thank you so much!” I bounce on my toes. Mrs. Smalls informed me of the scholarship after she read an essay of mine, and encouraged me to enter.

“It was all you, lady. I’m crossing all my fingers and toes,” She laughs. “Alright, I’ll see you in class.”

She turns and waves as she leaves, nearly slipping on some ice. She gives me a thumbs up to assure me she’s fine, and I laugh. Mrs. Smalls is nothing if not enthusiastic. As I make my way to world history, my head swims with possibilities. A whole year paid. That’s one less year I’m in Dad’s emotional debt. He’s always held money over us like it’s something to be grateful of, and it is, but he uses it to manipulate people. He used it to manipulate Mom, and I try my hardest not to let him manipulate me with it. But whenever a disagreement pops up at family dinners, he always pulls out the ‘who’s paying for your tuition’ card as a way to silence me. It’s getting more frequent, and more annoying. It would only be for a year, but it would be so nice not to have to rely on him.

I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts I don’t see the ice on the sidewalk. I flail as gravity pulls me any way it wants, and collide with something warm and softer than cement. I blink away the impact, only to come face-to-face with a pair of mismatched eyes.

“You!” I scrabble off Kai, our limbs practically entwined. The smell of him is everywhere - oil and leather and cinnamon. I can feel every hard edge of his muscles beneath his jeans and jacket. He laughs.

“Well hey, lioness. You okay? Did you break anything?”

“Why am I running into you everywhere all of a sudden?” I snap. He clambers to his feet in no particular rush, and runs his hand through his hair casually.

“Maybe it’s meant to be.”

I scoff, and he laughs.

“Yeah, too corny. My bad. I figured I’d give it a try, if nothing else.”

“Corny won’t work on me. None of your pickup lines will,” I straighten my long skirt.

“Oh?” He quirks a hawk-like eyebrow over his green iris. “And why’s that?”

“Because I’m not looking for romance.”

He laughs, louder this time, like I’ve said something particularly funny. “What, did you think it’s romance I’m offering to any of the girls? Please tell me you aren’t that naive.”

I flush. I am that naive. Or, I used to be. Before that night.

“I’m not stupid,” I growl.

“I know that, lioness. Naive and stupid are two different things, last time I checked. I’ve seen you studying your ass off everywhere you go. And the faculty can’t stop talking about you while they’re ridiculing me. You’re as sharp as they come.”

Somehow, hearing it from him makes it different, more vital. Did the faculty really talk about me?

“I’m not the freakishly smart, like Amanda with her perfect exams, and I’m no good at math.”

“Comparing yourself to other people will get you nowhere, trust me,” He says. “You’re as smart as you, and that’s all that matters.”

I frown. “That’s awfully wise and mature for a guy who picks up a new girl every night.”

He clutches his chest like I’ve wounded him. “The slander! I pick up a girl every
two
nights. Don’t get it twisted.”

I wrinkle my nose in disapproval. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night. Or not sleep, I guess.”

He chuckles, and there’s an awkward silence that circuits between us. I said thank you to him, genuinely, not twenty-four hours ago. Why am I being such a bitch now? He saved Trist. But for some reason, his infuriating smirk just sets me off. I can’t control myself around him. Suddenly, he reaches out with long, surprisingly graceful fingers, and picks something from my hair. His touch is so gentle I barely feel it.

“A twig,” He says. “Hold still, there’s another.”

His face is so serious as he studies my hair. All his attention is focused on me. I suddenly feel my face warm.

“It’s fine!” I swat his hand away as it comes in for another landing. “I can get it myself.”

“I guess even short-haired girls can get things stuck in there, huh?” He smirks.

“For the record, I don’t like my personal boundaries being invaded. Nor do most people.”

He holds his hands up as if he’s innocent. “Alright, fair enough. I tend to get too touchy-feely, it’s true. Won’t happen again.”

“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a class to get to.”

He snorts. “Alright, lioness. Try not to eat shit on the ice with a random handsome stranger again, okay?”

I roll my eyes in a clear ‘whatever’ gesture, and he chuckles as we go our separate ways. What’s so funny? I have no idea what he’s laughing about all the time whenever he’s around me. Maybe I’m just hilarious to him - hilariously pathetic. Whatever the case, I shove him out of my mind and head to world history.

Like some kind of cruel joke, I see Kai everywhere that week. I spot him making out with a different girl in the food court on Wednesday, giving a ride to her on Thursday, and starting the process all over again on Friday with a new girl. Where is he getting all these girls stupid enough to fall for his sleazebag act? Or maybe they don’t care. Maybe he gives them such a good time it’s worth being dumped in the next two days. It’s a mystery I’ll never solve, and frankly don’t want to solve. If I devote any more brainpower to this idiot and what he’s doing, I’ll start losing braincells myself.