Dear Ava by Ilsa Madden-Mills

13

“…And then Dane said, ‘But why does Charlotte have to die!’ I can’t believe we got through the movie at my house. He sniffled at the end even after I said at least Wilbur got her eggs and that means there’ll be little baby spiders for him to take care of, and he just glared at me. I swear, I think those drugs have addled his brain.” She stuffs a burrito in her mouth as we eat lunch on Friday then wipes her lips and lets out a groan. “Okay, okay, I wore my Bambi shirt when I knew he was coming over, you know, just to make him uncomfortable. Was that mean? He never said anything, so I guess it was okay.” Another groan. “I mean, come on, what guy is so ridiculously soft about animals?”

“I don’t care how he feels. Asshole Shark,” I mutter.

“I saw Knox turned your paper in early today. How was it?” She gives me a careful look, and I’m sure it was apparent in class that Knox and I were barely speaking. Gone are the snide comments. Gone are the tentative glances. Since the movie night, he’s a different person. We had this fun camaraderie at Lou’s, and then it all went wrong when I fell asleep. Did I say something in my sleep? Nah. He’s just…

Out of your depth.

Playing games.

I glare at my Diet Coke. “He didn’t even ask me to help write it, just wrote it himself, and on top of that, he switched our romance theme for feminism without asking when he was the one who liked the romantic aspect. Jerk. Big stupid jerk. Should have been Star Wars from the get-go.”

“At least you didn’t have to do it,” Wyatt says with a grin.

The thing is, part of me was looking forward to hashing out our ideas and working together. He gave me a copy of it today when I walked into History of Film, and when I said, “Dude, what the hell?” he only gave me grunts and nods. Caveman!

I read his essay, huffing, while he sat next to me, tense and wired.

“Maybe he really is pissed I wrote his cell number on the stall in the bathroom. Dammit, I should have written it at Lou’s. Missed opportunity.”

Wyatt’s eyes flare. “You’re the one who blabbed his super-secret phone number?”

“Weak moment.” I grin.

He puts his fist up and we bump. “Sneaky. Remind me to never tell you my secrets.”

“Meh, he really didn’t care that much,” I say. I haven’t told them about us at Lou’s or Vandy. Part of me wants to just pretend it never happened, because hello, he has.

Inevitably, my eyes scan over to the Shark table. He’s there, sitting next to Tawny. She keeps chatting up at him, batting those lashes. He barely notices her, typical, and focuses on his phone. Dane sits on the other side of him, pushing food around on his plate, his eyes at half-mast. In class, he was the same, sluggish and off. Chance sits across from them, Brooklyn plastered to his side. I don’t see Liam and Jolena. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen them at the Shark table since the fight earlier this week.

I glance back to Wyatt and Piper. “So, Knox has a black eye and Liam does too. I’m assuming the fight was at practice, but what’s the word on the street? Anyone know what it was about?”

“No clue. I’ve been buried in homework and trying to keep my grades up there with a certain someone,” Piper says.

“Me.” I laugh.

She giggles.

Wyatt cocks his head. “I may have heard it was over you.”

I drop my burrito. “What?”

“Seems like Liam was badmouthing you and Knox shut him up.”

My mouth drops. “Me?”

“You,” he repeats.

“But why?”

He shrugs. “I can’t even begin to understand how he thinks. He keeps shit close.”

No joke.

Wyatt dips his fry in ketchup and tosses it in his mouth. “Why are you staring at him?”

“I’m not!”

He laughs, glancing down at one of the hummingbird tattoos on his forearms. He gives it a little brush, his face thoughtful. “I saw that your locker was scrubbed pretty good. Heard it was done after practice by a couple of football players.”

“Chance and Knox,” I mutter as I push my burger away from me. The words were mostly gone by the end of the day it happened, but I was able to see a few faint outlines, the E in leave, the L in slut.

It was Chance’s idea, Knox said.

My eyes linger on Chance, and he glances up and stares right back. Brooklyn tugs on his arm and he finally drops his gaze.

Piper follows my gaze. “Jockass! I hope he rots! Saying that you hurt him. What a dick.” She shakes her head. “Geeze, he was all over you last year—”

“Let it go,” I grumble. We’ve hashed this out in my dorm room, and I’m sick of thinking about it. I blow out a breath. The truth is, I’m exhausted. Last night, I had dinner with Tyler at the group home, worked a shift at the diner, then came home and tried to do homework. Between Knox and this hellhole, my nerves are stretched thin, and there’s dread and unease nipping at my heels. The flat tire and locker incident won’t be the end of it. Something else will happen.

The bell rings and we gather up our trash. Piper and Wyatt head off, and I dash to the restroom. I’m walking down the hall when my phone vibrates with a text, and I pull it out of my blazer pocket.

Hey. I’ve been thinking about you. How’s your day?

Well, well, I’d almost forgotten about my admirer. A small part of me—a silly part—briefly entertained the idea that it was Knox. He did come to change my tire from out of the blue.

But I asked him at Lou’s in a roundabout way if it was him, and while he didn’t say no, he seemed cool about it. So, not him.

I stop in the hall and lean against the wall.

What do you want? I type.

Students rush past me, but I’m oblivious as I wait for his response.

You.

Could this person be Chance? He said some revealing things in that apology, and he did leave me little notes in my locker last year…

Is this Chance? If it is, you can go fuck yourself sideways. And I hope you pull a groin muscle and break your penis.

Ouch. That sounds painful.

Yet…he doesn’t answer my question.

I watch the dots on my phone, my heart beating faster than it should.

I read something for my Contemporary Poetry class and it made me think of you.

I rack my brain for who’s in that particular class, one of the senior favorites. I didn’t take it because my focus is math and science. History of Film is my only elective.

Yeah? Send me the poem.

I expect him to send me a name and title, but instead a longer text comes in, the lines typed carefully.

I yearn for her,

To ease the monsters in my head.

My hard heart wants the glass heart in her.

Obviously, I am out of my mind.

It’s good, short and succinct.

Nice, SA. I happen to like poetry.

SA? He sends.

Secret admirer, duh.

“Slut,” a male voice mutters as he jostles past me in the hall and keeps moving. I don’t even try to see who it was. It’s the second time today. Pushing down the singe of pain those words cause in me, I look back down at my phone.

What am I doing texting with someone who could be an enemy?

Besides, it’s my free period and I want to check out the new auditorium upstairs. They started construction last year, and I left before it was finished. Maybe I can think there. Catch my breath. Think about my goals and hope they can sustain me. As long as I pop by to see the librarian who’s in charge of my period and tell her I have some teachers to check in with, she’ll give me a pass to roam a little.

I have to go,I type out.

What class?

Screw that. I stuff my phone back inside my blazer and book it to the library.

After getting my pass, I head to the stairwell that leads to the fourth floor where one of the inside entrances to the new auditorium is. My footsteps are soft as I take the second flight. I’m adjusting my backpack when I hear the first-floor door open and someone comes into the quiet stairwell. A guy’s voice is speaking, and I pause at the familiar cadence I hear, the slow, burly drawl.

Another voice, soft and cajoling and female, hits my ears.

I strain to hear their conversation, getting frustrated when they lower their voices. They don’t seem to be actually moving up the stairs, so I take a few steps back and hunker down next to the concrete barrier, working up the nerve to peep around it. The key to good eavesdropping is not getting caught.

Rising up slowly, I take in Liam and Jolena. With his back to me, he’s leaned down toward her small frame, and she’s taking a step back from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Oh, drama.

Not able to hear them, I settle back on my heels and maneuver down one more flight, trying to be a ninja.

Jolena’s voice reaches me. “Brooklyn said you were flirting with that Brandy girl in your English class.”

He scoffs. “Come on, I asked her for a pen. A pen. Brooklyn is stirring up trouble.”

“Is she? What about the girl this summer? The one who kept texting you?”

His voice lowers. “I explained that already. Don’t make me repeat it.”

She lets out a frustrated noise.

“Ah, baby…” he murmurs.

She says something with intensity, her voice low and garbled.

A long pause, then, “Don’t preach to me, Jo. Knox will get over it, or if he doesn’t, I don’t care. He hit me—over her. Don’t you take his side because you screwed him once. Yeah, you think I don’t think about that every time I see him?”

She mumbles something. It sounds like I love you.

Liam tilts her chin up. “I know, baby. I love you too.”

Gag.

“He thinks he runs this place, but I’m the star around here, and we never would have won the games we did if it wasn’t for my defense.”

It rankles that I can’t see his expression, and I wish I could see his face, see his black eye.

She puts her hand on her hip, and I start when I hear my name.

His voice tightens. “Can I help it that she was all over me that night? You know how girls are with me. I always tell them no, baby. Always. You’re my number one. I left that party with Dane and we crashed at my house. I never touched her. I had my wingman with me, all night.”

Huh. She can’t get past the video, and I don’t even remember dancing with him!

My eyes shut as dark thoughts seep in. No matter how many times I tell myself it wasn’t my fault, bitterness rears up and I recall that I did dance with football players. I drank a lot of alcohol, some of it mine, some of it someone else’s. I DID. I own that.

But for someone to use me…no, no, no.

They kiss. Full-on tongue. Gross.

No way am I staying for a porno.

I inch away to leave, and a clatter sounds as my phone falls out of my pocket and crashes onto the concrete floor next to me. The make-out noises stop and I cringe, trying to back away while snatching up my phone. I hear the stairwell door bursting open where they are. Relief washes over me.

Still in stealth mode, I risk another peek and see Jolena still there, her shoulders hunched as she pulls a compact out of her purse to fix her lipstick. Her hands shake as she sucks in a deep breath and pats at her auburn hair.

I frown, having a little epiphany as I crouch down. Where’s her pride? Her self-love? She reminds me of Mama, accepting excuses when someone treats her horribly, pretending he isn’t doing her wrong. Money and a pretty face and her queen bee status sure haven’t gotten her much. She left me at that party and I seethe whenever I think about it, but part of me, I realize, pities her.

Forgetting her, I take off again, opening the doors to the third floor. Utter silence meets me until I turn the corner and run smack dab into a broad chest covered by a white button-down shirt, one that smells like pine.

I look up into gray eyes, taking in the manbun and handsome angular jaw.

“Watch where you’re going, sweetheart,” Dane says. “You never know who’s up here.”

The hall is empty, and he’s too close to me, our chests almost touching. It’s the first time I’ve been alone with him with no one around, and I push him away from me, harder than I meant to, making him stumble.

He straightens, tosses his head back, and laughs, running his eyes over my hair and face. “I see why he’s drawn to you.”

My teeth clench. “Who?”

“You know who.”

“Just stay away from me,” I call out, my voice more shrill than I intend.

His eyes narrow. “Don’t hurt him, Ava. Don’t mess with my brother.”

What?“You’re crazy.”

He lets out a gruff sound. “You don’t know the shit he’s been through. He acts like it doesn’t bother him, holds it in so tight I’m afraid he’s going to crack someday, but he’s got a heart. He does, and if you even think for a minute you’re gonna possibly ruin his last chance at playing football—”

I shake my head. “What on earth are you talking about? How can I hurt your brother? He’s the one playing hot and cold with me!”

He clamps his mouth shut. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

“Are you in some delusional world where you think I have power over him?”

He taps his hand against his leg, those flinty, dilated eyes on my face.

“You’re high. Back off and leave me alone.” I whip around to go in the opposite direction—

“Ava!” There’s a desperate quality to his voice that forces me to turn around and answer.

My fists curl. “What?”

His face is weird, drawn up and twisted, strangely vulnerable.

“What is it? Say it!”

He closes his eyes briefly as if he’s waiting for me to disappear, but I hold steady, feeling as if I can’t move. He’s got something to say.

“Knox went to every single football player’s house after you went to the police. He raked them over the coals, even the seniors who are gone now. He pissed off the team. We lost games because he pointed his fingers hard at every guy who danced with you, including me.”

Confusion pummels me. Why? Why would he feel responsible for me?

Forget that.

My chest rises. “Was it you?” I snap out. “Apparently I was all over you and I have no memory of it. Don’t think I missed anything.” I eye him up and down and scoff. I’m brave right now, so brave, because he…he looks as if he’s in some kind of internal war with himself.

He swallows and looks away from me, his throat bobbing. “I’m not…like …that. You aren’t the only one who doesn’t remember much from that night.”

I’m walking away when his voice reaches me, that tinge of anguish back. “Ava, wait.”

I ignore him, keeping my back to him as I hold my arm up and flip him off.

His next words make me freeze. “Knox hired a private investigator to look into that night. Nobody knows but me and our dad, but he followed up with him for three months, trying to get to the bottom of what happened, and I don’t even know why he cares except that he…” He trails off and I turn around.

“Why would he care so much?”

He shakes his head.

“Why?” I yell, putting steel in my voice.

He flinches. “Shit. Our mom was assaulted. Like you.”

The air is sucked out of the hallway and I gasp, my hands holding my chest. I study Dane’s face. “I didn’t know.”

“Hardly anyone does.” He stares at a point over my shoulder and clenches his fist, seeming to try to gather himself. He does a bad job of it because his hands shake as he stuffs them in his pants. “She was a pianist for the Nashville Symphony. She came out a side door at night after a concert to get to her car and two guys…they…they…” He takes a shuddering breath. “They broke her arm. Cracked ribs. She was in the hospital for a few days…” He gasps out, “They raped her and left her in an alley.”

Horror claws at my throat at those images, making me sick. I take deep breaths, trying to align this new information in my head and process what it means. “Dane…I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t really hear me, I think, or he doesn’t acknowledge it. He continues, the words sounding as if they’re being wrenched from him by force. “My dad kept most of it out of the papers, but that fear on her face when it got dark, when she’d double then triple-check all the doors in the house, when she’d sit and just look off into space…I saw that. Knox saw that. Once, in the middle of the night, she drove to where it happened and wandered around the streets in her nightgown and bare feet. She was never the same. My dad isn’t the same.” He closes his eyes and sighs heavily. “Fuck all of it.”

Then he’s edging past me, kicking open the door to the stairwell and disappearing.

Trying to wrap my head around the new information, I don’t even realize I’ve stepped into the dark auditorium, blinking to adjust to the change from the bright lights of the hallway.

Their mom was raped. Like me.

I can’t—I can’t think about it right now.

My eyes sweep over the cavernous space, taking in the plush new seats, the wide stage with deep black curtains on either side. Written up above in old-style Greek letters is Camden Prep. I focus on the stage, lingering on the spotlight equipment poised in the rafters, just waiting to bathe someone in light.

I settle down in one of the chairs and lay my head back, staring up at the heavy gold chandeliers that hang from the ceiling while I mull everything over. I don’t know how long I sit there before the adrenaline rush finally eases and exhaustion comes roaring back.

My lids feel heavy…

Strong arms carry me, tucking me inside a car. He murmurs something as he buckles my seat belt. Hands cup my cheeks and stare down at me, his gaze searching mine, a questioning look on his face. “Ava—”

The soundof a piano playing jolts me awake. Beautiful and flowing, the notes are a familiar tune, Demi Lovato’s “Skyscraper”, a song about a girl people think is made of paper but who is tough with her sharp lines; she’s a high-rise with broken windows but still standing, and no one can tear her down.

The player is skilled and intent, catching the low notes with the faster higher ones, the music executed with precision yet layered with emotion. Someone knows how to play. I ease up and stare toward the stage, at the black baby grand front and center.

I suck in a breath, feeling rocked. His head is tilted low, his fingers moving delicately and swiftly over the white and black keys. He’s dressed in that vented white practice jersey, his football pants on, ready for practice.

Not thinking much about what I’m going to say, I stand up and walk toward him.

He’s oblivious to me, the intensity of the notes he plays consuming him.

Who is Knox Grayson?

He ends the song and throws his head back, eyes closed as he drinks in those final notes, his lips slightly parted.

Clarity tiptoes in my head, my dream merging with the truth.

“You found me at the party.” My voice is low but enough to pop his eyes open.

He jerks up from the piano stool. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re playing my song.”

“It’s not your song.”

“It is!” I call out, my own confusion combined with what Dane told me pricking at me. “I sang it at the party and you were thinking about me when you played it so don’t pretend with me. You found me, put me in your car, and took me to Piper’s.” Placing my hands on the stage, I heave myself up and sit on the wooden floor, glaring at him. I’m not sure if I’m ready to rip his head off or hug him.

He just stares at me, emotion working his face, fists clenched, until he slowly shuts it down, composing himself with deep breaths. His gaze rips away from me. “How do you know I took you to Piper’s? I didn’t… You never contacted me or asked me.”

I cross my legs and tug at my skirt. “I just remembered it. It’s weird, the more time I spend at this place, the more the memories come.”

He buries his hands in his hair. “Ava…”

I swallow, looking away from his chiseled, beautiful features. It hurts how much he’s ignored me for the past two days, and now this.

“I’m glad you found me, okay, but you didn’t take me to the hospital. Maybe if you had, they might have found something in my system besides alcohol. I can’t be sure, but my gut says someone did do something to my drink. Maybe then everyone would believe me.”

He walks over and sits down next to me, keeping just enough distance between us so that he doesn’t touch me. Ha. I’m sick of that, for sure.

His face is troubled. “Ava…please believe me…I didn’t know you’d been assaulted. I saw you at the party earlier in the night, and I assumed you’d had too much when I found you.”

“Why did you come back?” I ask sharply.

“Dane.” He bends his head for a moment. “He doesn’t know when to stop, and I keep tabs on him. After I took Tawny home, I went back to look for him, but I found you. Just you.” He whispers out the last part. Grimness flashes over his face. “I didn’t know…how bad it was for you. It never entered my head that—”

“Didn’t you see that…” I stop, mentally pushing myself. “I didn’t even have underwear on!”

He shakes his head and says gravely, “I was just shocked to see you. I didn’t look there. I saw you on the ground and assumed you were trashed. I didn’t know where you lived—”

“So you took me to Piper’s and rang the doorbell.”

He swallows. “Right. I thought you’d sleep it off. Then, the next day I heard you’d gone to the hospital.” His face hardens. “I had no idea. You looked okay to me. Sick maybe, definitely drunk. As soon as I knew the truth, I went to the police and told them how I found you and took you to Piper’s. I felt terrible. If I had known—”

I shake my head. “The police never told me that! Why wouldn’t they?”

He gets a pained expression on his face. “The police here know who signs their paychecks, Ava. It’s a small community run by rich men. Liam’s dad is the mayor, my dad owns half the town, and you…you don’t matter to them, not when it comes to protecting the people here.” He stares down at his hands. “I’m sorry.”

The detective’s words come roaring back. “Miss Harris, is it possible you consented to sex? Your behavior at the party was, well, indicative of…”

I breathe. Big inhalation. Long exhalation.

“The police questioned me for hours,” he continues. “They had a timeline for everyone who was there and who they left with, but because I’d left early, I couldn’t help with those alibis. If it’s any consolation, they looked at me harder than anyone. I looked suspicious because I picked you up. Then my dad showed up and the cops let me go.”

A harsh laugh comes out of me. “I’m no one in this town, but the rest of you…ha. I’m no one. Just a nobody girl.” He doesn’t respond, and I push on. “Dane said the team suffered. He said you questioned everyone personally and hired a P.I. for me.”

He starts, and I study him intently, trying to catalogue every expression he gives me. He’s such a brick wall, and like always, I want to knock it down. “He told me about your mother. I’m sorry about what happened to her. Is that why you hired a private investigator? Guilt for not taking me to the hospital?”

He whitens, his shoulders tensing. “Shit.”

“You don’t like to talk about what happened to her, and I get it. It’s not pleasant, I imagine, seeing someone unravel and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.”

“She had a lot of issues before she was assaulted, Ava.”

I inhale. “I hate it when you call me Ava instead of Tulip, you know. You’re putting distance between us. Even now, when I know you aren’t the big bad Shark you want me to think you are.” I huff out a breath.

He grows quiet. Then, “Can you forgive me for not taking you to the hospital? For not—” He stops, his top teeth biting down hard on his bottom lip.

“What?”

His lashes flutter against his cheeks.

“Just say it. Please.” I don’t know why I’m begging him, but he’s so close, so close to telling me what I sense is just right there.

“For not staying, okay? I should have stayed, but I left because…”

“You saw me kissing Chance.”

He closes his eyes. “If I’d stayed, maybe—”

That moment plays back in my head, when Chance said he loved me and Knox was standing right there with Tawny. The anguish on his face…

Was it real?

I shake myself, pushing that away for now.

“It wasn’t your fault, and I never want you to feel guilty for something you had no control over.”

“But…I didn’t even do the right thing when I found you! It drives me crazy!”

I’ll kill him with my bare hands.

Moments tick by.

“I’m starting to think no one really knows you. You hire a private investigator, you fight with Liam over me…” I murmur, shaking my head.

Tentatively and carefully, he reaches out and touches my hand. “Don’t you know me, Tulip?”

My body tingles at the use of my middle name combined with his hand, and dang, it’s such a simple thing, but…

“You’ve told me more than the cops ever did.”

My frustration ebbs away, leaving bitterness and regret, yet in the end, I can’t blame anything on Knox. I went to that party. I let my guard down. I own that.

“Thank you for taking me to Piper’s. You might have saved my life. I seriously entertained the idea of a coyote getting me,” I add, trying for levity, but he doesn’t laugh. “Anyway, I could have choked on my own vomit out there in the woods.”

His jaw tightens.

I sigh.

“I’m not mad at you.” I stand up.

He stands, gray eyes holding mine.

“But I can tell you can’t make up your mind about something when it comes to me. You’re holding back.”

He crosses his arms. “Trust me, that’s a good thing.”

“Is it?” I cock my head. “Tell me, what else have you done for me lately? Someone paid for my housing, and you were the one who came out of Trask’s office before I went in—after I’d just told you I wasn’t in the dorms. Was that you?”

He drops his eyes and paces around the stage.

“Knox?”

He waves me off and plops down on the piano seat. “I blamed myself for not staying at the party and making sure nothing happened to you.”

“Uh-huh. We’ve established that point. You’re not answering my question.”

He nods. “At the same time, I got all this information about you from the P.I.—how you grew up, how your mom left you with a baby, how you beat the odds and managed to get a scholarship to Camden. You’re a bright star in this shitty place. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Was it you?”

He stands and marches over to me, staring down at me with those hot eyes. “I know underneath that tough-girl exterior, you’d do anything for the people you love. Do you know how rare that is? People may say they care and love, but from what I’ve seen, they only look out for themselves. You, though, you feel so intensely. You love so hard you came back to Camden for your brother—”

“Is there anything about me you don’t know? When I was spilling my guts to you in class and at Lou’s, did you already know those things?”

“I knew about your mom. I knew she left you, and I knew you lived on the streets sometimes. I knew Trask had asked you back and you requested to live in the dorms, but—”

He stops and swallows, his brow furrowed. He turns back to me, meeting my gaze, holding it steady. Still he doesn’t speak. I see that mask slipping back onto his face.

“Knox? Don’t you pussy out on me. This is the most honest conversation we’ve had, and I want to hear it all.”

I move closer, and part of me knows it throws him off, makes him uneasy. The smell of him, like summer and ocean waves, surrounds me.

My eyes trace the hard lines of his jaw, the long, strong nose, the way his dark hair falls around his face.

When he speaks, the words come reluctantly. “You’ve always fascinated me, okay? Since day one, since the moment you waltzed through those doors with your long blonde hair and eyes full of all that hope. Everyone else comes here and they already have everything, but you had nothing—nothing except your power. You barely looked at any of us, especially me, and I knew then you were untouchable, knew you deserved better than any guy at Camden.” He pauses. “Then Chance…you gave him a shot.”

He thinks I have power?

I’m untouchable?

A small laugh comes from me, some of that confidence I’ve lost along the way reemerging. The king of Camden sees me…he sees me as someone I never have.

He touches my hair, just barely. “You walked in Monday with all your hair cut off and a different color and, fuck, I was sad.”

My heart thuds. “Really?”

“Mmmm. When I sat behind you in class, I used to touch it with my pencil, and you never even noticed. You smell like vanilla, do you know that?”

I’m afraid to say anything, to stop him.

“Every day I’d get a little braver and barely touch my pencil to your shoulder, your arm. I was afraid to want you, then hurt you—”

The auditorium door creaks open and we hear two voices—teacher voices.

“We’re not supposed to be in here,” I hiss.

He grabs my hand and pulls me behind the black curtain. Somehow I end up in front of him, his chest to my back with the heavy curtains inches from my face. I feel the hard muscles of his body, the brush of his hips at the small of my back. His hands land on my shoulders then fall. I inhale.

The air around us crackles. He’s right there. Against me.

I can’t breathe, and it isn’t a bad thing. It’s intoxicating.

“Is there a back exit?” I whisper.

There’s a small slit in the fabric and he reaches around me, his bicep teasing my cheek as he peeks through. “Don’t worry. It’s Maxine and the janitor, Carl.” His voice is ragged and gravelly.

He played with my hair—

“How are you on a first-name basis with the staff here?” Am I really trying to have a conversation with him when all I want is…

We hear smacking sounds.

My eyes flare. “What are they doing out there?”

His hand lands on my shoulder after parting the curtain again. His fingers toy with my hair, and my body clenches, sparks igniting and giving me goose bumps.

“Making out.” He growls as if speaking the words is torture. His hand slides to my nape, barely a touch.

“No way,” I whisper, trying to gain control and pretend his body isn’t plastered to mine, every single inch of delicious muscle.

“Look for yourself,” he says, his lips brushing against the skin of my ear. He moves the curtain so I can see, leaving a small sliver of a gap so he doesn’t have to hold it.

Sure enough, Maxine and Carl are in an embrace near one of the seats on the far right toward the front of the stage. He’s a small man, a bit rotund, but he knows his stuff, his hands on her boobs. Go Carl.

I can’t even think straight, but somehow I say, “Her bun is down and he’s got some amazing mutton chops. Dang, now he’s unbuttoning her shirt.”

“Hmmm, they look like they’re enjoying it,” Knox says, his right hand moving to my hip like it’s a homing beacon.

I watch Carl and Maxine with envy, hearing her breathy little gasps when he cups her breast. He moves his lips down, takes a nipple in his mouth, and sucks.

My mind is dirty, so dirty, because I’m picturing Knox doing that to me.

“Do you like watching them?” he murmurs.

“Maybe.” I melt into him, feeling more of him, his cock that’s most certainly hard. My head eases back and rests on his shoulder.

“Tulip, fuck, what are you doing to me?” he mutters, his hand tightening, his other one grasping my other hip.

“I’m not doing anything,” I gasp out.

“You’re killing me,” he rumbles in my ear. His tongue licks at the top and bites down, and I moan.

We still when Maxine’s head comes up and she looks around the auditorium, squinting in the darkness as if she knows we’re watching.

“Now you’ve done it. We’re gonna get caught,” he whispers.

“You’re the one who bit my ear,” I murmur breathlessly, excited and scared, and…

“Did you like it, Tulip?”

“Yes.” I close my eyes. I can’t see his face, and I wish I could.

The bell rings, and neither of us moves. Carl and Maxine do though, straightening their clothes and murmuring to each other.

“We have to get out of here,” I say after a while when neither of us has spoken. “I have a class.”

“I can skip. It’s just gym.”

“You can’t miss football.”

“I will.” His nose presses into my hair, and my breath hitches. He’s being so careful with his little touches, but I sense the coil of tension buzzing inside him.

I just…

I’m afraid if I turn around, this spell will be broken.

“Truth or dare, Knox?” I whisper after Maxine and Carl exit the auditorium.

His hands slide up my arms and land on my shoulders, kneading the muscles there. “You want to play games, Tulip?”

“Yes.”

He tilts my head to the side and kisses my neck with the softest touch, and I’m languid in his arms. “Dare.”

It’s quiet in here, so quiet.

“You were supposed to say truth,” I mutter.

He laughs quietly against my skin.

“Fine. Let me turn around then. That’s your dare.”

He grows still, his hands tightening. “Why?”

“Rules of the game. Let go and let me face you.”

“I changed my mind. Truth it is.”

“Did you pay for my housing?” I ask huskily.

A long pause, then, “Yes.”

God, he’s so… Why have I never seen his…kind nature? How could I have been so blind?

I yank myself out of his grip and flip around to stare at him.

“Tulip…shit…you ask for too much from me.” He shifts us so we aren’t pressed so tightly together, yet he leans his forehead against mine.

I count his lashes, the dark curls thick and lush like a girl’s. I trace the line of his granite jaw. My eyes linger on the scar on his face.

“Truth or dare, Knox.”

“Isn’t it my turn?” he pushes out, his gaze wary.

My chest is tight, an ache there. “No. This is my game.”

“Truth, then.”

“What’s between us?” My voice shakes. “Since last year, there’s been this connection and I can’t explain it.”

His eyes close briefly. “I know how it feels to walk into a room and feel as if no one really knows you. So do you.”

I stare up at him, running my eyes over his broad shoulders, that powerful chest that’s so still right now.

“Truth or dare, again, and you can’t say truth this time. My rules,” I say.

“This isn’t a very fair game.”

“Just do it my way this one time, and I’ll owe you one.”

He inhales sharply as if he knows what’s coming. His hands cup my face. “You are pushing all my buttons right now, do you know that? I’m barely keeping my hands off you, Tulip, and once I let go—”

“Truth or dare, Cold and Evil. You pick, and you better choose the right one, damn you.”

“Dare.”

“Kiss me.” I run my finger over that slice through his upper lip.

He shudders, his eyes lowering, pupils dilating. “I don’t kiss on the mouth, but you’re looking at me like…like…” His voice grows huskier as he takes a step closer until finally my chest is against his. I sigh into the hardness of the power I feel underneath me, the friction of his jersey against my button-down.

“Do you want this fucked-up mouth on you, Tulip?”

“Yes,” I whisper, heat firing through my body at the frankness of him. At this moment, I want his fucked-up mouth all over me. “I’d like to know if…if it’s still good for me.”

He stares down at me, the air thickening between us. “You’re treading on thin ice…” But his actions don’t align with his words. He’s sliding his hand into my hair and palming my scalp. His breathing intensifies when his lips hover over mine. “Tulip—”

Before I chicken out—or he does—I arch my neck and press my mouth to his, giving his scar my attention first, pressing small, lingering kisses to that indentation before parting my lips and sliding them across his in delicate strokes.

Seconds pass as I kiss him and he just stands there, until finally, he groans and wraps his hands around my nape, angling my head to get deeper. He murmurs my name, his lips hesitant then changing as I nip at him, tugging on the bottom one. His strong arms tighten around me, taking control of us, his tongue tangling with mine, caressing, our breaths mingling. His fingers scrape across my scalp as if he wants to get closer, to inhale me.

The heat of his mouth, the urgency of it sends waves of fire to my lower body, and I kiss him harder. Desire thrums through me, and it feels like I’m discovering a secret within him, kicking at his hidden layers, searching for the real Knox.

“Tulip,” he groans when we stop to breathe.

“Don’t stop, please.” It feels too good. Kissing him is like I’ve spent a day in the sunshine, and when night comes, the stars will only shine for me.

“I want to kiss you, I want to…” His mouth takes mine again, hungrily, with a ferocity that makes me want to crawl inside him for more, so much more.

“Am I doing it right?” He presses his open mouth to my neck and sucks on the tender skin, his teeth dragging.

“God, yes.” My hands slide up to rub his shoulders, tugging at his shirt, wishing it would magically disappear. I ease under his jersey and explore him, his six-pack, the rippling muscles of his chest.

“You’re shaking,” I say, recalling how he trembled outside Vandy.

“I’m scared.”

“Am I the first girl you’ve kissed in a long time, like really kissed?”

He nods. “But that isn’t why I’m scared. I’ve always wanted to kiss you, Tulip.”

He comes back to my lips and takes them again, his tongue declaring dominance and ownership. Kissing him is like freefalling into a hot fire, and maybe I should be afraid of this, but I crave the way his chest burns against mine, the way it ignites every atom inside me. He tastes like spearmint and sex and everything I want—

He breaks us apart, his eyes gunmetal hot, his sensuous, wicked mouth swollen.

“Fuck.” His chest heaves. “You’re too much. You taste so good—” He takes my mouth again, his hands everywhere, in my hair, on my neck, grazing over my pebbled nipples before landing on my hips. “Tell me to stop, please, Tulip, tell me, tell me…”

My skin throbs and I kiss him back with intensity. “Can’t.”

“Tulip,” he whispers, moving us until I’m against the wall and he’s hovering in front of me, his lips back on mine. “You…drive…me…insane,” he gasps out in between kisses. My hands cup his ass, and my pelvis swivels against his, aching for that tent in his pants. He mutters a curse and lifts me up so my legs can curl around him. I lock them around his waist as he dips his head and places his lips on the rise of my breasts. His teeth tug at the erect nipple underneath, sucking and biting through my thin shirt and bra.

“You’re so hard to stay away from,” he murmurs, coming back to my lips and taking them again.

Sighing in his mouth, I rub against him while sweet friction eats at me, pulsing through my body. I’ve been scared before this, worried part of me would never want a guy again. The nuns made me attend a few therapy sessions after that night, and I recall the doctor telling me to expect anxiety when I had a sexual relationship, but right now, all I feel is need and want and desire and hunger—for him.

“Am I going too fast, Tulip? Am I?” he says raggedly as his hand slides under my skirt and traces the waistband of my panties.

“I dare you,” I say.

“Tulip,” he groans and slips his hand inside, brushing his fingers through my wetness with feather-light strokes while I shudder. He tugs on my hair, arching my neck back as he stares down at me, desire swirling in his eyes. “I want to hear you come. I want my name on your lips when you do, so bad, so fucking bad…” His breath hitches while his finger dips inside me and moves in and out.

“Never…I never have…”

“You will,” he growls as his thumb finds the upper part of my mound, teasing me with a hesitant touch, making me breathless as I arch to get more, just more. With his face flushed, he takes deep gulps of air, his eyes heavy and low. We’re moving fast, so fast, as he gets into a rhythm, working his fingers, circling and dancing and touching and—

Tingles skate over my spine, pressure building and building, until I’m gasping and clutching his shoulders.

“So sweet, so sweet,” he says in my ear, and the scent of his cologne, sunshine and sea, the feel of his quivering chest under my hands—all those sensations sharpen to a laser focus until I explode into a million shards of lightning, my body clenching around him as I call out his name, writhing against his hand.

I float down, lazily and softly, as he kisses me.

Dimly, I’m aware of more sounds around us, other than our breathing. Voices grow louder, students filling up the auditorium.

Knox tenses next to me, trying to get his breathing under control. “Fuck. There’s a class coming in.”

I let out a shaky breath. “Chorus probably.”

He lets me slide down from him and I realize my clothes are barely even out of place, top still buttoned up, my skirt draping over my thighs. There’s a damp spot on my shirt, but I can put my blazer over it.

I glance up at him, taking in the bulge in his pants, the tight expression on his face. A tendril of unease washes over me. “What’s wrong?”

He licks his lips, tearing his gaze off of me. “We can’t do this.”

My chest squeezes. “Why?”

He takes a step away from me, avoiding my eyes. “Stop asking me questions I can’t answer.”

Some of those old insecurities come crawling right back, slicing through me and going straight to my head. I remind myself of his coldness for the past two days.

“Am I not good enough? Not up to your standards? Afraid of what your friends might say? Not bleacher-worthy?” I don’t mean that last part, because I don’t want to be that girl, but he’s distancing himself. Again.

And if there’s one shred of anything I have left after that night in the woods, it’s my pride. Hell, if anything, I should be the one pushing the Shark away.

I’ve opened myself up and he’s the one retreating?

Can’talso means no, and he’s said it very clearly.

He closes his eyes briefly and looks as if he might say something, but he doesn’t, and sometimes when people don’t speak, they say everything, don’t they?

Maybe he doesn’t really think of me…like that.

Maybe…

Shit.

PITY. He feels sorry for me.

Because of his mom. Because he didn’t take me to the hospital.

Red flames on my cheeks as I gather myself together mentally, trying to separate my body from how hot we felt together.

And he’s still just standing there, his expression uncertain.

“Ah, I see how it is,” I mutter under my breath.

“Do you?” he says, and then the rest of his words come at me in an angry rush. “You want to pretend I haven’t wanted you? Go ahead, tell yourself those lies. But the truth is, you don’t know who hurt you that night. You’re still reeling from the aftershocks and I’m not good for you—” He stops abruptly. “Forget that. We have to get out of here before we get caught. There’s a side exit to the right that leads outside and goes around to the library. You take that and I’ll walk through the auditorium—”

He’s dismissing me. Us.

“Don’t tell me how I feel about that night! Maybe it was your brother who hurt me.”

He looks stricken. “No, no, Tulip. It wasn’t.”

All that seething anger rushes back and fills me up, wiping away everything we just talked about. My fists curl. If there’s one thing I do know, it’s that Knox will protect him until the end—and me? I’m just collateral damage.

I glare at him and he stares back, reading my face. “Tulip, don’t leave pissed. I didn’t mean for this to happen. We can just forget about it—”

Forget? Ha!

I cross my arms. “Too late for that. You just ruined what could have been—nothing, just nothing! You take the exit and I’ll walk through the auditorium, Cold and Evil.”

“Please. Don’t—”

Ignoring him, I whip around and fumble through the curtains until I’m in the small stairwell that leads to the aisles.

Halfway running, I dash through the students filling the seats. I find my backpack near the rear, grab it, and run for the double doors. I don’t stop, my breathing torn and weak as I stumble into the stairwell and make it all the way down to the first floor.

Forget him, dammit. Forget him forever.