Tease, Page 22

  “Yes! N-no!” I looked up at the winter sky as if I would find something, some truth or answer, in the dark gray clouds scudding against the darker night. Nothing.

  He was right. He’d shaken me loose from my self-imposed cocoon. Since I met him, all the old hurts had returned. The fears. I shouldn’t have come here tonight. Letting him in had been a mistake.

  I lowered my gaze back down to him. He waited, staring silently, his eyes so full . . . so judging. That’s what I felt at least. Exposed and raw. Like he could see me and what he saw was something broken. Something that needed fixing.

  “You can’t fix me. This wasn’t your fight,” I whispered.

  “Your fight is my fight. What hurts my girlfriend hurts—”

  “No. I took several sliding steps backward, shaking my head. “I’m not your girlfriend.” I shrugged. “I’m not.”

  I watched him for several more moments, absorbing the sight of his face as my words sank in. His eyes seemed to dim. “You’re scared,” he said quietly.

  “Scared?” I scoffed. “Of what?”

  “Of anything real. And what we have is real. You love me and it terrifies you.”

  “I don’t love you,” I lied.

  He grabbed my face then, dragging me closer with both hands. “You love me. I know you do. I know it because I can see it in your eyes . . . in the way you look at me.” He inhaled. “It’s the same way I look at you.”

  “No,” I bit out. I couldn’t be so transparent. Love was pain. It was being out of control. Like the hot mess of tonight.

  He kissed me. Hard. I struggled for a moment before relenting and kissing him back. I couldn’t resist. He had that effect on me. He turned my brain to mush and made all my girl parts tingle. His mouth softened then, turning coaxing and sweet. His tongue traced the seam of my lips and I gave myself a mental shake. Seizing control again, I pushed him away.

  My chest heaved with gasping breaths that fogged the air in front of me. I stared at him for a long moment before tucking my shaking hands into my front pockets.

  “I want you,” he said starkly, the barest quiver in his hoarse voice. “Me and you. Together.” He drew in a deep breath, his broad chest lifting. “But I can’t chase you forever.”

  I nodded in understanding. It was an ultimatum. Fair, but an ultimatum nonetheless. After tonight, I couldn’t even contemplate it. It was all too much right now.

  Without a backward glance, I walked away.

  Chapter 20

  THE NEXT TWO DAYS passed in a blur. Georgia and Pepper watched me with worried eyes. I ignored their questions, sleeping through most of Saturday and then watching mindless television on Sunday. I checked my phone, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t call.

  That night played itself out over and over in my mind and every time made me sink a little deeper into my bed, made my legs curl up a little tighter into my chest. I’d walked away from him. And he was done coming after me. I chose safety. And control.

  So why did I feel so wrecked?

  Pepper and Georgia marched into the room Sunday evening, flipping on the light, a bag of what smelled like nachos gripped in Georgia’s hands. “You need to eat,” she declared.

  “And we need to know what’s going on,” Pepper added.

  I sat up slowly. “What is this? An intervention?”

  “Call it whatever you want.” Georgia started pulling boxes from the bag. “I got your favorites. Fajitas nachos. Guacamole on the side.”

  “Wow,” I murmured. “Carbs.”

  “For you, I’ll splurge. Especially if it gets you talking.”

  I smiled and it actually didn’t hurt too much. “Bribery. You guys didn’t have to do this.”

  “Of course we did.”

  I stared at Georgia, humbled. She had just been dumped by her boyfriend of five years. Her first love. Her only love. I couldn’t imagine how she must be feeling. “You’re an incredible friend, Georgia. We should be taking care of you—”

  “I’ve grieved enough,” she said with a wave of her hand. “No more tears for me.” We dispersed cartons of nachos and small cups of hot sauce, settling into our respective spots. Me on my bed. Georgia and Pepper on the other one. Mine was too littered with pillows and clothing.

  Pepper wasted little time. “So. The rehearsal dinner. How’d it go?”

  “Oh. About as bad as it could have gone. But the highlight might have been Shaw beating the crap out of my stepbrother.”

  “What?” Georgia tossed down a nacho and leaned forward over her carton. “Why?”

  I stared at my friends and sighed. It was time. Maybe it had been time a long time ago, but the fact that I had already outed myself to a roomful of strangers made this moment easier somehow. They deserved to know. I loved them and they deserved the truth.

  They watched me solemnly, as though they knew I was reaching some decision.

  Opening my mouth, I told them. Everything poured out. They didn’t say a word. They listened as I told them about my mother. And Justin. And Melanie. Everything leading up to Friday night. And then I told them about the rehearsal dinner. With wide eyes they listened as I described it. Including Shaw showing up.

  “Wow,” Georgia murmured, setting her carton down on her nightstand.

  Pepper shook her head, her eyes wide. “Why didn’t you ever tell us any of this? About your mom and stepbrother?”

  “I just didn’t want you to look at me differently.”

  “Differently how?” Georgia dropped down next to me on my bed, heedless of the pile of clothes I had yet to put away. “Like we wouldn’t love you anymore?”

  “No, of course not.” I shook my head, tucking the hair behind my ear, feeling silly about this now. I couldn’t explain why I’d kept it to myself. There was too much shame wrapped up in what happened to me. Not just what my stepbrother did, but because my mother rejected me. She hadn’t protected me—that most basic thing a mother does for her child. Even Pepper’s mother, a messed-up drug addict, had, in her own way, loved and done her best to protect Pepper. And Georgia came from two great, loving parents. Not me.

  I exhaled. “I just didn’t want you to think anything was wrong with me. I didn’t want your pity.”

  “Em,” Georgia said softly. “There isn’t anything wrong with you. You got a crappy family. Not. Your. Fault.”

  “Yeah. That’s not a reflection on you. Trust me. I know about crappy families.” Pepper dipped a nacho in hot sauce, nodding vigorously. “I don’t pity you. Right now, I want to shake you for keeping this bottled up forever.”

  I smiled wanly. “I told Shaw.”

  “Well, that’s something,” Pepper allowed.

  “Yeah, and then he showed up, beat the crap out of Justin—”

  “Hallelujah.” Pepper nodded in approval.

  “Because he loves you,” Georgia cut in. “You know that, right?” Her eyes softened. “I know you’ve never felt like this about a guy before, that you’re scared of your feelings . . . loving someone can be scary.”

  I looked at both of them, Georgia’s words echoing through my mind. Loving someone can be scary. Something in me caved in and broke loose at the truth of that statement. I did love him. But could I do this with him? Be normal? Take love and love someone back?

  Pepper nodded. “I think the guy has been in love with you ever since he hauled your ass out of that bar.”

  I set my food down beside me on the bed and curled my knees to my chest, rocking slightly for a moment. So far this conversation wasn’t making me feel better.

  “He made you happy,” Georgia reminded me. “I haven’t seen you like that with any guy. Like ever. He brought something out of you. You were . . . real. Not Emerson the t—”

  I looked at her sharply. Her cheeks grew pink with embarrassment. “Emerson the tease?” I finished.

  She nodded, looking contrite, but I didn’t blame her. I had fostered that image. I kept everyone from seeing the real me. Because only the real me could get hurt. No
t fake Emerson. Nothing touched her. No one.

  No one but Shaw.

  He’d gotten to the real me.

  “The only thing standing in the way of you being happy is you,” Pepper quietly added. “Take it from me. I almost lost Reece. Don’t let Shaw go.”

  I unwrapped my arms from around my knees and reached for my phone on the shelf, rubbing my thumb idly over the screen, thinking about Shaw, wondering what he was doing, if he was thinking about me.

  “Are you gonna text him?” Pepper asked, hope in her voice.

  I nodded slowly. “I—yeah.” Sucking in a deep breath, I typed, deleting and starting over several times before I settled on:

  You don’t have to chase me anymore

  I set the phone back down and shrugged like it was no big deal. Like I didn’t just pull my heart from my body and fling it down on the ground to see if he would pick it up.

  The three of us sat there for several moments, waiting to see if he replied. After a few tense minutes, I grabbed the remote control and forced a smile. “Let’s see what’s on TV.” I felt Pepper and Georgia watching me but feigned great interest in channel surfing. “Oh, look, Teen Wolf is on.”

  AFTER WE FINISHED EATING, Pepper left us to head over to Reece’s place. I couldn’t quite lose myself in Teen Wolf    like usual. I had a Medieval Art quiz on Wednesday, but there was no concentrating on that. I’d read up on the buttresses of Notre Dame later.

  “I’m going to the studio to get some work done,” I announced to Georgia as I tugged my Uggs up over my leggings.

  “It’s your favorite episode,” Georgia said, pointing to the screen at the hot boy running through the woods at missile-launch speed.

  “Eh.” I shrugged, staring almost broodingly at the television for a moment. None of the yummy boy actors held a candle to Shaw. He was the real deal.

  I pulled a thick Irish sweater over my boy’s T-shirt. Standing, I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her head. “I won’t be too late.”

  She laughed. “Right. You always say that and then you lose track of time. You never even hear your phone half the time when you’re in there.”

  Exactly. I stood up, looping my wallet and keys around my wrist.

  “I know what you’re doing, Em. You’re trying to distract yourself from the fact that Shaw hasn’t texted you back yet.”

  I forced a smile. “You know me well.”

  “Em, wait. At least text him and tell him where you’re going. In case he—”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  “Humor me!”

  “Bye.” I fluttered my fingers at her. Slipping on my bulky coat, I left our room and walked toward the elevator. On the way down, I buttoned myself up. Stepping outside, I cringed against the blast of cold. I hadn’t emerged from my dorm since Friday and I’d almost forgotten it was winter outside. I looped my scarf around my neck twice, tugging the soft fabric up to cover my chin.

  I turned my phone over and over in my pocket, Georgia’s voice buzzing in my head. Muttering, I pulled the phone out and texted Shaw.

  I’m headed to the studio to work

  Shoving the phone back in my pocket, I expelled a breath. “There. Satisfied, Georgia?”

  I beat a familiar path to the studio, thumbing the keys that dangled from my wallet as my feet ate up the distance. I passed a few students heading back in the direction of the dorms. Others took the turn past the student center, doubtlessly heading for the library.

  The studio loomed ahead in the darkness, its glass windows gleaming like the flat surface of a silent lake, unruffled by wind. I toyed with the key. Professor Martinelli only granted a few students after-hours access to the studio. It humbled me to be one of them.

  I walked up to the door and inserted the key into the lock. Or tried anyway. I fumbled, turning it over until I got it right. Until it slid inside. The building was old and the thick wood door groaned as I swung it open. The key stuck in the old brass lock and I struggled to yank it free.

  Suddenly I was shoved from behind. My shoulder banged against the edge of the door as I tumbled inside. I cried out, hitting the ground. There wasn’t time to put out my hands. My entire body took the brunt of the fall. Even my face didn’t escape. My cheek scraped the concrete floor.

  I moaned, too stunned at first to move. I heard the door slam and then I was hauled up to my feet. I wasn’t quite ready to stand. The fingers digging into my arms held me up.

  “Hey. Sis.” Hot, sour breath blew into my face.

  I cringed, pressing a hand to my raw cheek. “What are you doing, Justin?” I squinted at his features in the dark. I could discern very little. Just the gleam of his eyes and the movement of his lips. The light switch was by the door, but I wasn’t reaching it with his grip on my arm.

  “Just paying you a visit. I wanted to catch you alone. You’ve been holed up in your dorm all weekend but I had only time on my hands. You know . . . since my wedding got canceled.”

  “You’re drunk.” It was an unpleasant reminder of another time. Him. Like this in the dark. Me stunned, caught off guard and shrinking away from him.

  He laughed, slurring his words. “I’ve been drinking since Friday night. Since you ruined my life.”

  “You didn’t need any help from me to do that.”

  “Melanie won’t even talk to me.”

  “Good for her,” I snapped. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help myself.

  His fingers squeezed tighter, hurting me. There’d be a mark tomorrow. “Yeah. You’re glad about that, aren’t you? You showed up with your friend and spouted a bunch of lies.”

  “They weren’t lies.”

  “Oh yeah? I’m a rapist?”

  I quit tugging on my arm and looked him in the face. “You tried to rape me.” The moment the words left me I felt free. The fear—there had always been fear—evaporated. Faded like smoke into the air.

  “Tried.” He laughed. “Not much distinction, is there? Between a would-be rapist and a rapist. I mean Melanie looks at me like I’m some kind of pervert now.” He paused, the stink of his breath pungent in my face. “No distinction.” His voice was low now. A growling whisper. “I might as well do it. Be what Melanie thinks I am.”

  I didn’t have to be a genius to understand his meaning. All I could think in that split second before I moved, before adrenaline fired through my limbs, was that I was stuck in a familiar nightmare again.

  I BROUGHT MY HEAD forward. Hard and fast. I’d seen it done in movies countless times. I only hoped it worked.

  It worked. And it hurt. I staggered, stunned from the force of my head hitting his face. I was too short to reach his nose. My forehead smashed into his chin and mouth.

  His hand dropped from my arm. I ran, his curses burning on the air. Where he stood, he blocked the door, and I was too worried about getting that close to him. If he grabbed me again, it was all over. He would overpower me. He was too big. Twice my weight. I couldn’t let him catch me. I had to avoid him. Hide. Wait until he moved from the door and then make my escape.

  I knew the room well. Even in the dark. I ran on silent feet and ducked behind a large canvas. Heart hammering, I took a gulping breath, listening.

  Justin’s laughter rang out. “Where’d you learn that move?” He bumped into the edge of a table, rattling the supplies sitting on it. “Well, I can’t wait to see what other moves you have.”

  His voice was closer. He was walking down the center of the room. I crouched and started circling the room’s perimeter, seeing the front door in my mind.

  “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be on a beach in Martinique right now, married to Melanie.” I kept moving as he talked. “And that job I had lined up working on her father’s campaign? That’s gone, too. You owe me, Emerson.”

  I debated reasoning with him. Faking an apology, but then I dismissed it. He wasn’t in a forgiving mood. He was drunk. And he had nothing to lose. He’d lost everything.

  “Why don’t
you just come out so we can get this over with? C’mon.”

  I was almost to the door. A few more feet.

  Suddenly my phone started ringing. The ring tone was loud and shrill in the vast space of the studio. I fumbled for it, desperate to reach it and make it stop.

  His footsteps slapped on the concrete. My fumbling fingers dropped the phone and I bolted for the door, diving between two easels. Justin just tore through them, knocking them aside like they were toothpicks.

  His hands grabbed me. Air rushed over me as he slammed me onto a table. I felt wetness at my back and knew I was on top of someone’s freshly painted project.

  It was a mad scramble. Rough hands yanked at my clothes. I fought. Clawing and punching. His fingers curled around the waistband of my leggings. My arms flailed on the table, knocking into supplies, and my hands brushed something familiar. Not a week passed without one in my hand. I snatched it up without thinking, rotating it in my grip. Tip down, I jabbed the end of the paintbrush into his chest.

  He screamed. I didn’t know how hurt he was—how much damage I’d done—but he howled and fell off me. Gasping, I dropped down from the table. I moved backward in the dark, barely able to support my weight on shaking legs.

  Then light flooded my world. I threw a hand up over my eyes to shield me from the sudden glare.

  I heard my name. Arms surrounded me and I screamed, attacking them.

  “Em! Emerson! It’s me.”

  I shook the hair from my face and peered up at Shaw as if I didn’t quite recognize him. “Shaw?” I started to ask him how he knew I was here, but stopped, remembering that I had texted him. With a choked cry, I flung myself against him and hugged him tightly.

  He hugged me back, one hand at the back of my head, the other at the small of my back, warm and firm, fingers splayed widely. “Emerson!” He pulled back, his gaze scanning all of me, from head to toe, missing nothing. “Are you hurt?”