I turn on him and have him by the collar, pushing him up against the wall. “What is wrong with you?” I shout, my words a snarl.
He clasps my wrists and breaks my hold. For all the weight he’s lost, he’s still just as strong. “Me? I’m not the one nailing the spitting image of the girl who fucked me over in high school.” He pushes my arms aside and straightens his shirt. “What is it, bro? An anger bang? A grudge fuck?”
Hell.
I haul back and stick my fist in his face.
White-hot pain slices my knuckles as Jake goes down. The room pulses in my vision, a whoosh fills my ears. Then slowly, as I blink hard, reality bleeds into focus around me. Fear grips me cold, and I turn to find Ari staring at me wide-eyed, a wrecked look marring her beautiful face.
“Let me explain—”
She holds up a trembling hand. “Don’t.” Then she shakes her head repeatedly before she turns and runs into the hallway.
Shit fuck!
Jake’s saying something. His voice stops my pursuit of her as I reach the door. But I’m not really hearing his words. I take five seconds—that’s all he gets—to say, “You better be gone by the time I get back here.”
He laughs. “You always wanted to be one of them,” he says, then spits red on the carpet. His eyes—that are just like mine—glare at me. “But you’re not. You can’t be. You’re just a piece of shit, like me. No matter how much money you make in the pros, you’ll always be the poor boy from the wrong side of town.”
“Maybe so.” I shrug. “But at least I’m not the poor boy with a chip on his shoulder.” Not anymore. For Ari, I’ll be better. I
am
better.
With one last, disgusted look at my brother, I say, “Get help, Jake. Don’t contact me again until you do.”
Then I leave to chase down Ari. And pray that the truth really does set you free.
B
ile rises
to the back of my throat. An ache builds in the pit of my stomach. I’m not going to make it.
I round a tree in the middle of the courtyard, my feet eating the distance to my dorm, but not quickly enough. Cramps seize my stomach with each step. I cradle one arm to my stomach as I power-walk my way through the light campus traffic.
When the harsh bite of vomit coats my mouth, I drop my pack and sprint for the corner of a building. I lose my stomach in a bush. My body trembles with each wretch, waves of chills crashing over my skin. The cold air is soothingly numbing as I quake past the dry heaves.
There wasn’t much to toss, thankfully. I had a small lunch, followed by a protein shake after my quick workout. And I was thinking of getting dinner with Ryder... That’s why I went to his dorm.
Stupid
. I should’ve sent a text first.
No.
What
? I’m berating myself for going to my boyfriend’s room unannounced? Thoroughly disgusted, I force my back straight, look up at the darkening sky, and suck in a cleansing breath. Dizzy, I lay my forehead against the cool, rough surface of the building. Just for a second, to gain my composure.
I close my eyes.
And see Ryder’s fist connect with his brother’s face. The flash of fury that overtook his features right before. Hear that girl’s name…
Alyssa
. The one who Ryder obviously loved—maybe still does. The one he wishes was me.
Ten
.
Nine
.
Eight
.
Seven
…
I look like her. He was never interested in me. Ryder’s got some sick infatuation with the girl from his past.
Six
.
Five
.
Four
.
Three
…
Oh God, but he’s been inside me. Stared into my eyes while he made love to me—no,
her
eyes. I’m
no one
. But I already knew that, didn’t I? My sense of self—something so elusive that no amount of dieting or purging could ever fully establish—is just a trembling wisp of smoke, ready to evaporate on an unsteady breath. I thought for one moment that someone finally saw me—that Ryder completed a jagged puzzle that I’ve never been able to figure out how to put together.
Until him.
I’m no one. No one.
No one
.
Shit. I have to start all over. Gripping my hands in my hair, I clamp my eyes closed.
Ten
.
Nine
.
Eight
.
Seven
.
“Ari!” Ryder’s voice crashes against my awareness. A tidal wave of nausea pulls me under.
Shame and humiliation have me stalking hurriedly toward my pack, away from the sound of his deep voice. I grab it, not slowing my steps, and hike it over my shoulder. I can hear his footfalls getting closer. He’s running now, and all I can think about is how I don’t want an audience.
I turn on him, stopping him just feet away from me. “Not here,” I whisper tersely.
He glances around, his chest heaving. “Where, then? I’m not letting you take another step away from me until I explain—”
“Not. Here,” I repeat.
Then his eyes are hard on mine, trapping me, and I’m lost to a feeling of hurt like I’ve never felt before. It slices fiery hot through my resistance, and I don’t fight him as he links his fingers through mine and leads me away.
It’s bad enough
me
knowing, I can’t stand the thought of the whole school knowing, too. All those Facebook posts and Twitter hashtags, announcing that the QB all-star is grudge fucking a prime debutante to give the middle finger to his past. It’s not exactly how his brother worded it, but it’s, oh, so the truth. It all fits together now.
I could never figure out what Ryder saw in me. Why he worked so hard at making me his. In some strange, unsettling way, I feel vindicated. Like finally proving what I suspected all along. Only, the proof doesn’t alleviate any of the hurt; just deepens the wound.
It’s my own doing. I was all too happy to be swept away in the fantasy. I never learn. I deserve this.
As he pushes open a door to the maintenance building off the main courtyard, he keeps his hand clamped around mine. He pulls me inside, then turns and slams the door closed. He faces me, his heavy breaths marking the air between us.
I wriggle free from his iron grip, then run my palm along my jean-clad thigh. My skin prickling from his hot touch. He pushes his back up against the door, as if to block any attempt at retreat. The act is so aggressive, I recoil away from him.
“If I insist to leave at any time—”
“I’ll let you,” he says. “Just give me five minutes, Ari. Please,” he adds, wiping a hand down his face. His clear blue eyes plead with me in the small, dimly lit room. When I don’t say anything, he releases a shaky breath and nods. “You do resemble the girl I had it bad for in high school. I won’t deny it.”
His admission hits me like a punch to the stomach. I reel back, my hands searching for something solid to connect with and keep me steady. I find a lawn chair and settle down unsteadily.
“But,” he says, taking a step away from the door, “that lasted all of a day. It’s not the reason why I asked you out, and it’s not the reason I continued to pursue you despite your rejection.” His face pinches in agony. “I barely knew Alyssa. It was a pathetic crush from an even more pathetic kid who longed for acceptance. I can own that now.”
A heaviness weighs down my shoulders, and I wrap my arms around myself. “You lied to me. I knew there was more to what you told me, and I never forced the whole story, Ryder. I chose to
trust
you. After everything I divulged…what I told you about me…I trusted you.”
His face twists as if he’s pained. “I could barely own the truth myself, Ari. I’m sorry. But how in the hell could I explain that to you? What happened back then with her doesn’t have anything to do with us. She’s nothing to me.”
I lift my head. “She’s obviously not nothing. Not if she effected you so deeply.” I release a heavy breath. “She hurt you.”
He sighs and looks at the ground. “No. Not really. She lured me to a party, made me believe she wanted me to be there…with her—” his gaze finds mine “—but it was so her boyfriend and some of the team could teach me a lesson. About how broke-ass losers like me don’t get to partake in their lifestyle.” He shakes his head. “I mean, I rode the bench, but they wanted me to understand…to really get it…that I was beneath them.”
I feel my brow furrow, and he clarifies. “They got me good,” he says. “Old-fashioned swirlies and a wicked beat down that left me limping for a week. Captured it all on a phone, too. The video got thousands of likes and the bullying at school went viral…” He trails off, then, “Until Jake came down one weekend.”
He doesn’t really need to finish this story. And I wish he wouldn’t. I feel like I’m going to lose my stomach all over again. Sick with the need to purge the images from my head.
“He always defended me,” Ryder says, sinking his hands into his pockets. “All through school, assholes rarely laid a finger on me until he went off to college. Then I think…I think him making it at ball set something off with those guys. They didn’t like that a poor nobody from their town was the one who made it.” He chuckles uncomfortably at this, lost in the memory. “So they took it out on me. And maybe Jake knew that. Maybe he even blamed himself for the beating I took. But the truth is, he was always just
off
. Violent, and had a bad substance abuse problem. I think the both went hand in hand.”
“What happened that night, Ryder?” I ask, my voice echoing off the walls, bouncing back to my ears in a hoarse whisper. “Did you think she was the one to humiliate you?”
His face crumples, his broad shoulders fall. “No. Even after everything, I didn’t blame Alyssa. It’s just the way they were, all of them. I was getting out soon, graduating and leaving for college. Jake had the pros, and that meant I could be free to be whatever I wanted.”
Then he says, “But Jake wouldn’t hear any of that. He was pissed off at a lot of things back then. I guess he still is.” He shrugs. “He talked me into going to the big blowout before graduation. Us crashing the party. He wanted to shove his success in their faces. And maybe I knew in the back of my mind he was going to get into a fight. Hell, he always did. And I maybe I wanted him to give a bit of that to those guys.” His gaze sharpens on me. “I was a coward. I never fought my own fights back then. But, Ari. You have to believe me when I say I could’ve never predicted he’d hurt her. Honestly, the look in Jake’s eyes right before… It wasn’t about me at all.”
I stand, my legs shaky. “You saw it.
Every
thing that he did to her.” The shame that fills his face says a million things; all the guilt and fear he’s harbored since then.
“No—I didn’t lie to you about that. He took her off while I was licking my wounds.” His body quakes with a hard shiver. “Jake just lost it. It happened so fast; one second he was talking, and the in the next, she slapped me. That’s what Alyssa did to set him off. Right before, he told her something…I don’t even remember what now…something crude. And then she turned to me and gave me a good slap.”
He pushes out a heavy breath. “I did exactly what he said. I was so angry, so hurt, I had tears in my eyes. I headed right for the door and then everything after that moment was so surreal. I heard the his shouting, her screaming. Then he was too far away. With her. I tried to get to her…through the door.” He voice breaks. “Later, it was like I dreamed it. Like it was just a bad trip.”
“Ryder,” I say, taking a tentative step toward him. “You need to talk to someone about this.”
“I have. I gave the police my statement over and over—”
“No,” I cut in. “You need to talk to a professional.” I swallow past the aching lump in my throat.
The alarm on his face chills me to my bones. “You think I’m capable of what he did. That I have that in me.”
“What? No—” I shake my head. “No. I think you’ve been carrying around this baggage for too long, and the scars it’s left behind… I’m not Alyssa. No matter how much I apparently
look
like her, even speak like her, I can’t offer you any form of forgiveness. For you or your brother.”
“Fuck. I know. That’s not—”
“And I’m so, so sorry about your brother. He’s awful, but he’s sick, Ryder.” I shake my head, trying to clear my muddled thoughts. Too much is pounding against my brain, and I can’t grasp each individual stream. I need to leave. “But there’s nothing I can offer you in means of purging this guilt from yourself. I’m sorry for how you were treated in high school. And, God, I feel so badly about that. I can’t even imagine what it must have felt like to have your torment splashed all over the Internet. I’m sorry.”
He physically deflates. Acceptance at my words inevitable. “But…?”
“But,” I continue. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust that you want
me
.”
And, oh, it hurts so badly to hear myself say it aloud. It’s the truth, though. Now that I understand what Ryder saw in me—another girl—I’m mortified. I would be the most pathetic form of loser to cling to this dysfunction.
“Please understand,” I say. “For me…this is a big deal.”
Because if you knew how hard it was to look in a mirror already
… I can’t let him do this to me. I’ll never be able to move past this—it’s too demeaning. Like accepting I’m second for him, and I’m so sick of not being someone’s first. Of not being enough.
I’m so relieved I never told him about my illness. I’d only look that much more weaker in his eyes.
I move toward the door, but he steps in front of my path. “Don’t let Jake infest your mind with his shit,” he says. “It’s not true, Ari. I told you. It was a split second…then you were Ari.
My
Ari.”
I huff out a long breath. “Ryder, please. I really just need to be alone. Please understand.”
The hurt in his eyes tears through me. His shoulders rise, his chest expanding on a deep breath. Then he reaches behind him and cracks open the door.
Stepping to the side, I hang my head and go to move around him, and his arm ensnares my waist. He crushes me to his hard chest. His rough palm glides along my jaw, tipping my head back. “There’s only you,” he says before his mouth is on mine.
Sweet, arresting agony splinters through me, consuming, yearning. His lips bruise mine in a primitive display of ownership. My hands inadvertently seek his hair, wanting to bring him closer still. Longing to lose myself in him, in his kiss, so the unbearable heartache will be forgotten.
It’s all I can do to pull away, my breath shuddering as I say, “Give me time, Ryder.” Then I push at his solid chest to break his hold. “I need to…figure some things out.”
He reluctantly releases me. “This isn’t over,” he says, his voice a discerning truth. “Whatever you need, I’ll give you. But I refuse to let you give up on us.”
I stare into his face, memorizing the way he looks in this moment. Then leave.