Long After

  Nobody is perfect until you fall in love with them.

  Preface

  Chase

  I have tunnel vision. That’s the only way I can describe it. I can’t see his face anymore. The only image in front of me is the memory of his hands on her. Something flips, and I get a flash of her face. Of the terror and panic in her eyes.

  The faint smack of skin hitting skin resonates in my ears, but it sounds far away. My hand stings and it fuels my anger.

  I’ve never felt like this in my life. Never. Nothing else has ever made me this way—this angry. I don’t think anger even comes close to describing what’s happening inside of me right now.

  I’ve heard the saying: “Seeing red.” I never understood it until two minutes ago. My sight actually changed. It was a purely physical reaction I had no control over. Everything darkened. And then everything was red.

  So red.

  There’s a ringing in my ears, accompanied by a whooshing—my blood pressure or adrenaline drowning everything else out. My face is hot. My hand is starting to hurt less. I register all of this.

  But I still can’t see his face, even as my fist makes contact over and over.

  And over.

  I want to kill him.

  I’m going to kill him.

  I can’t stop.

  I don’t want to stop.

  As my hand slams into his flesh, it doesn’t feel like I’m striking hard enough. I strain the muscles through my arm, trying to put more pressure behind each hit. I need to hurt him. He needs to feel pain. Pure. Fucking. Agonizing. Pain.

  He hurt her.

  He fucking hurt her.

  I raise my hand, popping my arm back. It shakes. My whole body is vibrating. I can’t stop it. It’s the merciless rage roiling through my veins.

  My chest is heaving and sweat trickles down my temples. I let my eyes find her face again. Take in the red and purple skin there. My gaze lowers to her throat. Scarlet fingerprints line her neck. I clench my fist and narrow my eyes. My jaw is set so tightly it feels like I could break teeth.

  More images fire through my mind’s eye—Annie’s body pressed to the floor, pinned beneath his weight, his hand clutching her throat. Her lips were blue. God, her lips were fucking blue and he wasn’t stopping.

  He wasn’t stopping.

  1

  In Repair

  Annie

  I can remember the exact moment I met Chase Malloy as if it were yesterday. It was the day Mom took me and my little sister, Addie, over to meet Alec’s kids. She’d been dating Alec for a few months and he had proposed. He was going to be Mom’s third husband, and though I didn’t count on their relationship lasting—because, honestly, her relationships never did—I decided to go with that whole third-times-a-charm thing.

  When Alec called the other kids into the living room to make introductions, a tall, gangly boy trailed behind everyone else. Even though the boy didn’t belong to Alec, he was Guy’s friend and a constant in the house. His brown hair was long and messy and he wore a band tee shirt that had seen better days. There were holes in his jeans—ones I’m fairly certain he put there purposely—and he had the biggest grin on his face. Even at fourteen, even though he was dressed like a freak, I thought he was gorgeous. There was this soft beauty to his face. Most teenage boys were covered in acne, but Chase had flawless skin. And his hazel eyes were almost mesmerizing, framed in thick lashes the same color as his hair. When he shifted in front of the window, and the light caught his eyes, it was like a kaleidoscope of color. And oh, that smile. He had a mouth full of perfectly straight white teeth.

  I remember sliding my tongue over my own teeth, bumping along my braces. I kind of hated him right then and there. Boys shouldn’t be that pretty. Especially when I had to work so hard to not look hideous. My blonde lashes are invisible unless I wear mascara, and Mom hadn’t let me wear it until just a few months prior.

  At least my chest had finally started to grow—something I had thought would never happen—though I was still much smaller than most girls my age.

  Chase didn’t seem to care much about the way I looked. He barely registered I was even in the room, which made me dislike him more.

  I was sick of not being seen.

  I was tired of being so plain that I couldn’t garner the attention of a single person in my life. Except from Mom, and that was attention I’d rather not have, because she only reminded me of the many ways I wasn’t good enough.

  I had already decided I didn’t like Chase because he made me feel inferior. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t do anything wrong. But fourteen year old Annie didn’t understand that.

  Sometimes twenty-one year old Annie has a problem recognizing that, too.

  So when he finally acknowledged me, trying to make small talk, I did the only thing I was ever truly good at.

  I pretended I didn’t care about a single word that came out of his mouth. I treated him like he was stupid. I acted as if he was the most annoying person I had ever met, and at times, he actually was. Because Chase didn’t care how I treated him. He just ignored my attitude and when he wasn’t ignoring me, he was dishing it out just as fiercely as I was.

  And so began a silent rivalry. Each time we saw one another, it was game on. I would sling an insult, to which he always had a comeback for. This was how our relationship worked. And really, it worked well for a while. Until something shifted. Something changed and I didn’t want to insult Chase anymore. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to laugh at his jokes. I wanted to be near him. But he was far from my type. Besides, hating each other was our thing, and I’m nothing if not consistent.

  So what happened?

  I don’t know.

  I wish I could distinguish the defining moment we became more than… Just more. But I don’t know when it happened. Maybe it had always been this way and I just didn’t know it. I think that’s possible. Maybe every time I made some smartass remark, what I was really doing was trying to earn his attention.

  To let him know how I really felt.

  I should have told him sooner. I should’ve…

  Everything is so dark and blurry right now. Confusing, as if I’m dreaming.

  If only.

  God, if only this were a dream.

  My eyes flutter with the thought and I finally allow them to close.

  2

  Weekend Warriors

  Chase

  Twenty-seven Months Ago

  “What are you doing?” I ask, angling the Super Soaker upright against my shoulder.

  Annie rolls her eyes and places her manicured hands on her thin hips. “Trying to get a tequila shot.” She throws one hand out, gesturing around her. “Just like everybody else.”

  “Erm…no,” I say, turning her around and giving her back a little shove. “Move along.”

  She whirls back quickly, her blonde ponytail nearly taking out my eye. “You’re giving them to everyone else.”

  Now I roll my eyes as I maneuver around her. I pump the gun three times and spray into the waiting mouth of a cute brunette. She wipes her chin, laughing and I grin. Annie steps in between me and the brunette, not allowing me to ignore her. My smile falters and I frown at her.

  “Why not me?” she demands.

  I throw Park a look, but he’s no help, too busy spraying a line of girls. I sigh. “Look…if Guy found out I shot tequila into your mouth with a Super Soaker…he’d kick my ass.” I shrug. “I’m not in the mood to get my ass kicked. I’m not a real big fan of pain.”

  She drops her eyes, staring down at her shoes. “Guy won’t care,” she says quietly. I feel my brows draw together in confusion. Her step-brother will definitely take issue with this whether she believes it or not.

  “He’ll care. He’ll be pissed and he’s st
ill out of it over Hope and Mason moving. Just go get a Solo cup and be on your merry little way.”

  “You are such an asshole,” she mutters, but she pivots on her heel, walking away, so I don’t bother to reply.

  “Who’s next, ladies?” I call, pumping the gun again. Who knew college could be so damn fun?

  Girls scurry over in front of me, all opening their mouths wide, and I can’t help but grin. College is fucking fantastic.

  ~*~

  I plop down into a lawn chair next to Park and sigh. “I’m out.” I toss the water gun to the ground.

  He smirks, lifting a bottle to his lips. “I ran out an hour ago.”

  “Money well spent.”

  He nods his agreement. “But next time, I say we charge.”

  That’s not a bad idea. We could charge a dollar a shot. Easy money. I tip my head to the side. “Does that mean we have to shoot guys in the mouth? Because I don’t really see girls paying for it.”

  Park shrugs. “Probably.”

  “That doesn’t sound as fun,” I say.

  “Nope.” He grins at me around a cigarette. “But profitable.”

  I look past him, Annie’s blonde hair catching my attention. My eyes trail down her back and over the jeans hugging her ass. I glance back at Park to verify he hasn’t noticed where my attention went. He’s focused on the girl to his other side, so I turn back to Annie.

  She’s openly flirting with a guy that definitely did the whole Boy Scout thing in grade school. I eye his khaki pants and polo shirt and laugh lightly under my breath. He hasn’t stopped talking yet and she hasn’t stopped bobbing her head, nodding along to whatever lame-ass story he’s spitting.

  I laugh lightly under my breath. I can tell from here that she’s bored shitless. I also know she’ll play along all night to keep his interest.

  I completely want to go mess with her over this dude.

  And I think I will. I can’t miss out on a golden opportunity like this.

  I pick up an abandoned bottle and make my way over to Annie. I hook my arm around her shoulder. Her eyes widen and I smile.

  “Hey Sweetums,” I drawl. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” I nod at the guy in front of her. “Who’s this?”

  “This is Todd,” she says tightly.

  “What’s up?” Todd holds up his palm in an awkward wave, confusion clouding his expression.

  Squinting her eyes, Annie tries to duck out under my arm, but I squeeze her into my side. I touch my mouth to her ear. “Remember last weekend?” I whisper, reminding her of the little stunt she pulled.

  She laughs for Boy Scout Todd’s sake and leans in to reply. “It was a joke. Let it go.”

  “You told Ella Hamilton I have a bestiality fetish,” I state, my voice rising. Her gaze darts over to Todd who has backed up a step. “And,” I continue, “it didn’t help when I told her I thought her dog was cute.”

  Annie bursts out laughing. She covers her mouth, shaking her head as she fights for composure.

  “She canceled our date and told me I needed help. Payback is a bitch,” I finish.

  I clap my hands, rubbing my palms together. “So anyway,” I say loudly. “Make sure you get checked. Shaving doesn’t get rid of them. That’s a myth. You need the special shampoo.” I nod at Todd and scratch my crotch for good measure. “See you later.”

  “Uh…later,” Todd grunts.

  I do an about face, winking at Annie’s horrified expression. This is going to come back to bite me in the ass, I’m sure, but right now, the payoff is just too good.

  “I hate you, Chase,” Annie yells. “You’re such an asshole.”

  I don’t turn around—I’m used to her little pet name for me. I just lift my hand above my head and wave. If I were keeping score, which I’m not, that’d be 18 me and 15 Annie, just since moving on campus.

  It’s good to be king.

  3

  Unwritten

  Annie

  I’m still seething when I get to my dorm room. I hate Chase. I hate him so much. Todd couldn’t even look at me after that spectacle.

  I slam the door and kick my shoes across the room. And then I go over and pick them up, placing them on the rack inside my closet.

  I’d never admit this to the idiot (Chase—not Todd), but it was actually pretty funny. I mean, if he had done it to someone else, it would have been hilarious. Repulsive, but still funny. We’ve come a long way from “kick me” notes and tacks on chairs. Now he’s messing with my future.

  I release a deep breath and fall onto my bed. I really should do my bedtime cleansing routine. And I have to study. I groan loudly. Sometimes I wish I could make myself not care about anything. It would be so completely wonderful to just not give a shit. I don’t know how Chase does it. I don’t allow myself to envy him for too long, though. Chase is going nowhere fast and I shouldn’t admire that.

  I push myself back up and grab my basket. It has everything a girl could ever need to beautify herself. If I was ever asked the question: If you were stranded on an island and could only bring three items, what would they be? This basket would be my number one.

  I think a lot about questions like that. The “what if” questions. What would I do if there were a fire? Tornado? Flood? Mugging? I even contemplate the less likely what ifs. What if a zombie apocalypse took place tomorrow? World War III? Nuclear explosion? Sometimes I spend so much time on those questions that I wish I could just shut my brain off. Because I’m always trying to improve my answers. Always trying to identify what problems could arise and adjust my answers accordingly. It’s a curse. But if the world ever suffered a zombie attack, I think I’d outlive most of the people on this campus. Just saying.

  After completing my nightly facial ritual, I drop onto my bed, and crack open my notes. I study every night. Every night. I don’t know how not to. I also try to study during any free time I find throughout the day. But I refuse to be like those girls who do nothing but stare at books. I make sure to include time for social interactions. How else will I find my future husband?

  The door opens, causing me to jump and my heart to stop beating for one startled moment. My roommate, Gretchen, tosses her messenger bag onto the desk without a glance in my direction before retreating right back out the door. Music starts up in the common room and I ignore it.

  Gretchen is Chinese, and the exact opposite of every Asian stereotype I have ever heard. She’s barely passing her classes and she couldn’t care less. On top of that, she’s extremely unmotivated—unless it comes to partying. And the way she dresses, with her band tee shirts and pink streaked hair… She reminds me of Hope in a lot of ways. Something I thought would be comforting, but Gretchen despises me, so not so much.

  She bursts back into our room and tugs her shirt over her head. She throws the shirt in the direction of the clothes hamper in the corner, but it falls short by several feet. And she leaves it there. Did I mention that Gretchen is also messy? Because she is.

  I try to concentrate on my notebook as she fishes through her drawers. I pull my legs up, blocking her from my sight and reread the sentence I’ve already read several times.

  “I have some people over,” Gretchen says.

  I look up at her with a blank expression. I don’t know what she wants me to say to that. She has people over all the time—when she’s actually here.

  She rolls her eyes as she pulls a tank top over her head. “I like one of them and if things go well, I’ll need the room.”

  Gretchen can be kind of rude, too.

  “Go to his place,” I say, not masking the irritation in my voice. I’m not a prude. Not by a long shot. I happen to see nothing wrong with sexual exploration and have no expectations when it comes to others. But this is my room, too. And I would never try to kick her out just to hook up with some guy. I find that ridiculously unreasonable on her part to even consider the idea.

  “He doesn’t have a place,” she replies, her tone now matching mine. “He’s visiting his b
rother for the weekend.”

  “So you don’t even know him?” I know I’m being judgmental, something I should probably work on, but she’s getting on my nerves. I don’t like when people mess with my routine.

  “Actually,” she says slowly, obviously trying to control her anger, “I’ve known him and his brother for years. Not that it’s any of your business, but we all went to school together.” She narrows her eyes as she picks up her iPod. “It’s not like you’re doing anything. And I never ask anything of you.”

  This is true. Her not asking anything of me, I mean. But that’s because she never speaks to me. But I am doing something. “I’m studying.”

  “You can skip studying for one night.”

  I grimace and Gretchen rolls her eyes again. “You can study somewhere else,” she amends. “Don’t you have any friends that can put up with you for one night?”

  That stings. The truth is I don’t have any friends that I would feel right about showing up at their door this late at night and asking to crash with them.

  But I don’t give her the satisfaction of telling her this. I snap my notebook closed and sit up. “Fine. But you owe me.”

  She snorts and crosses the room, heading out the door without another word.

  I guess I’m having a sleepover with Guy. Yay.

  ~*~