Dear Ava by Ilsa Madden-Mills

4

I’m so freaking late, practically running when I dash into my History of Film class. The teacher, Mrs. White, is an older lady with gray curly hair and small wire-rimmed glasses. She’s wearing a baggy dress with huge pockets on the sides and old sandals. Rather absentminded and a bit quirky, she has a rep as a fun teacher. She lifts her head when I come to a stop, my shoes squeaking on the slick tile. Everyone already has a seat, and it’s clear from the seating chart on the whiteboard that she doesn’t have my name down. Great. That’s what last-minute registration gets me. It’s going to be like this all day, me showing up and not being on the roll.

She stops talking, a surprised look on her face as she motions me forward. Everyone cranes their neck to get a look at me as I walk up to her desk, maneuvering through the small desk tables, each one seating two students. Dang, I’m going to have to actually sit next to someone. I send a prayer up that it’s not one of the Sharks, hoping for just a regular student like me. I pass by Piper, whose eyes are wide. I grimace when I see she’s been placed next to Dane. She sticks out her tongue at me and rolls her eyes so hard it actually looks painful, and I bite back a grin.

“Sorry I’m late, Mrs. White. It won’t happen again.”

“Snitch,” a male voice coughs out, and her gaze goes behind me, searching the class for the person who did it.

“That’s enough,” she says firmly then glances at me. “It’s fine, Ava. First day we give some leeway.” She messes with some papers on her podium, shuffling them around, her finger going down a list. “I don’t have you on my roll, and honestly this class is so popular with juniors and seniors, almost every seat is filled.”

“I registered late. Sorry.” I keep my spine straight. “Just put me in a chair in the back. I don’t even need a table.” Nervously, I tug at my skirt.

A deep male voice comes from my left. “I have an empty seat, Mrs. White. Liam dropped.”

Her head rises, and I follow her gaze, my gut churning, recognizing that voice.

My eyes find Knox Grayson’s. Again, there’s no expression on his face, just that superior, disdainful smile.

Mrs. White’s eyebrows hit the roof, and I guess she’s just as surprised as I am that one of the Sharks has offered to let me sit with him.

Games.

Fucking games.

I tear my eyes off Knox’s face.

“I’d prefer the seat in the back,” I tell Mrs. White quietly, leaning in, but unfortunately my words must carry because someone in the front giggles, and I hear the silky voice of Jolena.

“Wow, a girl who doesn’t want to be next to Knox—priceless.” Her laughter tinkles.

The teacher puts her elbows on the podium and leans in until our faces are close and there’s no chance anyone will hear. “I’m good with whatever you want. I can put you in the back, but honestly, it’s only going to isolate you from everyone. I don’t want that, and in the end, you may miss some things if you can’t see the overhead. You could take the seat up front with Knox, and if you have any issues at any time, come to me and I’ll take care of it.” Her voice is soft, pity dripping like acid.

Pity. Please.

I want justice.

Not likely. They have money. They own this town.

Miss Harris, is it possible you consented to sex? Your behavior at the party was, well…

She spreads her hands. “It’s up to you though, Ava. Whichever you want.”

Sit in the back or sit next to the head Shark?

My throat tightens as I ponder my options, but I already know what I need to do: establish myself as fearless, just like inmates do when they walk into a prison.

Swallowing hard, I give her a tight nod, pivot, and walk to Knox’s desk.

Someone lets out a gasp—Jolena.

Good. Take that. I am stronger than BTN.

Knox’s eyes are narrowed as he sits back in his chair, never shifting his gaze as I slide into the seat next to his. He takes me in, cocking an eyebrow as if he’s surprised.

He’s a foot away from me, but I swear I can feel the heat from his body looming close. I scoot my chair a few inches farther from his, making a horrid scraping noise on the tile. He huffs out a laugh and slides his away from me until his chair is next to the wall, putting even more distance between us.

Good, it’s like that then.

Never liked you from the get-go, even before that party, my face says as I shoot him a glare.

Same, his eyes say.

“Ava,” he says in acknowledgment, his voice husky, laced with dark undertones. His tone reminds me of the night, steel wrapped in black velvet, hinting at secrets and barely leashed power. Since freshman year, I’ve avoided him, but it’s not the scar, because things like that don’t bother me. I’ve lived with kids with scars and burns on their faces, sometimes on their entire body. Luka had cigarette burns up and down both forearms.

“Mr. Cold and Evil. We meet again.”

The last time I was this close to him was in Greek Myths junior year when he sat behind me, feet propped up on the bottom rail of my desk. It was the most tense I’d ever been in a class. He’d breathe and I’d hear him, the sound grating on my nerves. He’d lean forward and my hair would move as it he touched it. I’d pass papers back to him and our fingers would brush. When our eyes would meet, I’d drop mine, and he’d laugh. Once…

“Hey, charity case, turn around.”

Ugh! I turn in my seat. “What?” My hands clench as I hold myself tight under his scrutiny. My heart thumps so loud I wonder if he can hear it. Ever since seeing him almost naked in the locker room, something is definitely weird between us.

“Why did Hades fall for Persephone?”

“Read your textbook, Shark.”

His voice is low, his eyes liquid metal. “I did. Seriously, I don’t get it.” His gaze lingers on my neck, staring at my locket. “Come on, answer me.”

Oh, what the heck. If it will make him stop bothering me… “Hades was lonely in hell. It’s a dark, isolated place. She symbolizes light and good. Opposites attract. Why can’t a devil want an angel? They were in love. Happy.”

“Opposites, huh?” He taps his pen on his desk, thinking, and glances at Chance a few rows over. “You and Chance—serious?”

Ah, so that’s what this is. “Does it bother you that he’s with me? You think I’m not good enough for your best friend. Chance is perfect. He isn’t a devil.”

His lids go to half-mast. “Like me.”

I look at his scarred lip.

“Ah, low blow. You know just how to cut me, charity case.”

“Ava is my fucking name,” I hiss then flip back around. Asshole!

Knox laughs under his breath,and I come back to the present.

“Didn’t know you’d given me a nickname. Guess this means you’ve been thinking about me.” He pauses. “I kind of like Cold and Evil. Fits me. Truthfully, I’d prefer Hot as Fuck, but you do you.”

I glance at his face, taking in the long patrician nose, the sculpted cheekbones, the way his dark hair lays around his face. He’s rolled up the sleeves of his button-down, the muscles of his forearms tightly roped and defined. His upper arms are bulky, his shirt tight against them.

I tear my eyes off him and stare down at my laptop, shuffling around to get my things arranged. I slam down my notebook and pen.

For some weird reason, I have perfect clarity on seeing him with Tawny, his hand tucked into the back pocket of her jeans as they walked away from the bonfire and got into his car.

Yet…

It feels as if something big happened before they left, an elusive memory that dances just out of reach and is up in smoke before I can grab hold and pin it down. It’s been like that for months, bits and pieces all jumbled together.

“We’re going to be working on a movie project for the next few weeks, so where you’re sitting today is your permanent seat for a while,” says Mrs. White as she begins her lecture.

“Great,” I mutter.

Knox gives me a dark look. “My sentiments exactly.”

She continues. “We’re going to focus on movies at least twenty years old. Some perhaps you’ve heard of. Some are iconic, some suck, and I can’t wait to get your thoughts on the issues they cover, which you’ll put in a five-thousand-word essay.”

Groans come from the students.

“What kind of movies, Mrs. White? My dad doesn’t let me watch sexy films, so I hope they’re all G-rated.” It’s Dane, his voice lazy as he sits next to Piper.

A few people snigger until Mrs. White gives them a pointed glare. “I’ll make sure you get Charlotte’s Web, Dane. Too bad, really, especially with so many good movies on the list, like The Godfather, for one. Guess I’ll assign that one to someone else.”

He deflates. “Please don’t give me Charlotte’s Web. The spider dies and all that crap. I hate it when people die in movies.”

“Too late,” she says, already writing his and Piper’s names on the board.

I chance another glance over at their table, and Piper does a gagging motion at me as she points to him. I grin. Dang, I’ve missed her.

The teacher goes down the list of pairs, assigning movie titles. Field of Dreams goes to Chance and his partner, Brooklyn, and from the way she’s tracing her fingers over his hand on the desk, she’s evidently happy to be next to him.

I flip back around and face the front, my hands clenched in my lap.

“Not over him?” Knox drawls. “He’s dating her, you know. Might be serious. He claims it is. Never seen him be so nice to a girl. Do you still love him?”

I slide my eyes to him.

His facial expression never changes. Cold. “Not that he’s a bad guy, but you and him don’t go together.” He pauses as if a light bulb just clicked on. “Huh. Maybe it was all about security when it came to him. Nice, clean-cut, boy next door. Is that what you saw in him?”

The. Nerve.

He doesn’t know me.

I cared about Chance.

I study my nails.

“I do that too—look at my nails. It says I know what I know and you don’t know shit.”

I blow out a breath.

“Nothing to say? I guess that means you’re still carrying the torch. Silly girl. How can you want him when he left you high and dry?”

Anger flares to the surface at the memories he brings up. “Zip your lips, Cold and Evil, or I’ll punch you in the face.”

His head leans in close, too close. “I believe you, which is funny, because I took you for the quiet type, but I think I always knew you were something else underneath…” He laughs and leans away from me, but not before the air around him shifts and I catch his cologne. He smells like the ocean, salt and sunshine and coconuts, and my chest swells.

I turn my head and stare at him, facing off with those gray eyes. “What kind of cologne is that? Eau de fish?”

He looks at his nails.

“It reeks.”

It’s freaking divine.

He whistles and stares at the ceiling. Rakes a hand through his hair.

“And if your girlfriends aren’t telling you the truth about your stupid cologne, they’re pussies.”

I swear I see his mouth twitch.

“Maybe cats would like it. Meow.” I claw at him, and he breaks with a smirk.

“It’s actually something my mom picked up in Paris. She bought it for me every Christmas. Guess I have enough to last a lifetime.”

“Ah, Paris. Nice. Beautiful place—Eiffel Tower, cheese, wine, fancy accents, poodles. I shop there all the time.”

“Really?” An eyebrow pops. “I wouldn’t have known from the state of your shoes. When’s the last time you had a new pair?”

I give him a fake smile. “Maybe I like worn-out things. At least they’re original and not a cookie-cutter leather loafer. Let me guess…” I tap my chin and take in the immaculate shoe on his large foot. I see the meticulous stitching, the honey color, the comfort it no doubt provides with a nice insole. “Fresh from Italy, I presume.”

“Man, it’s so nice being rich. What’s it like being poor?” His eyes glow at me.

He likes this.

He enjoys messing with me.

He smiles.

I smile.

Oh, honey, two can play at this game.

I have nothing to lose anymore, and right now, I’m feeling brave.

I dart my tongue out then bite my bottom lip on purpose.

He blinks and looks away from me.

“Cold and Evil, do you get off on arguing with me?”

“Tulip, you can get me off whenever you want. Wanna meet me under the bleachers later? I don’t mind slumming.”

“Who told you my middle name?” My breath whooshes out as Mrs. White talks at another table, assigning another movie.

He laughs.

“Did you rape me?” The words come out unplanned, but there they are, and I’m glad because his face goes from bored amusement to shuttering into a mask.

I watch him intently, cataloguing each little change, searching for the truth in the granite-cut curves of his face. His jaw pops, betraying emotion, but when he looks me straight in the eyes, all I see is an arctic winter in those wolfish depths.

“Well?” I add, my hands clenched, hiding under the desk.

“I don’t have to take by force what is offered to me on a daily basis. I’ve never, ever touched a girl unless she begged for it. You aren’t even on my radar, Tulip. But hey, the offer’s still open for a pity fuck.”

Not on his radar—good.

“But you were there.”

“Doesn’t mean it was me. And I left that party—with my very willing date. You watched me leave. Remember?” His eyes cling to mine, searching for something.

I frown. Why would he bring that up? Such a specific detail.

“You’re one of them and I can’t believe a word you say,” I bite out. “You’re all liars.”

We’re facing each other now, our heads tilted low, our voices hushed, mine angry, his taut and firm.

“We’re all liars—sure,” he mocks. “I saw you drink Fireball like it was iced tea. I watched a video of you dancing in a circle of at least six guys.”

“Huh, I thought it was more. Did you count them? Funny, I didn’t see you in that video.”

“Because I don’t do that shit. And I left. Remember?”

What is up with him and this remembering? The whole school knows I don’t recall much. I shove it aside.

“Am I too poor for you?” I say. “Poor little old me.”

“I don’t participate in videos because I have a football career to think about. College recruiters look through social media,” he says tonelessly, unflappable control holding strong.

My mouth tightens. I’d give my right boob to see Knox Grayson lose his cool.

“Yeah, everyone knows you’re high and mighty. Everyone kisses your ass. Guess what—I don’t. I think underneath that exterior is a guy who’s got some real problems. Mommy and Daddy not love you enough as a baby? Is that why Dane is still snorting coke or whatever?” I pause, feeling triumphant at the thunderous expression he now wears. “Oh, yeah, I know what it looks like. Grew up with an alcoholic, drug-addicted mom. See, it’s bad all over, right? No matter the social class we belong to, when it comes down to it, we’re all just humans with the same problems. Mine’s dealing with not remembering what happened that night. Yours is…I don’t know. You’re just a cold sonofabitch.”

It was quite a speech and he blinks rapidly, his chest inflating as he flashes a look over my shoulder to glance at Dane. He gazes back at me, eyes hard, but at least there’s heat there, dark and deep and angry. “Leave my brother out of this.”

Huh. If there’s a chink of weakness in Knox, it’s his brother. I file that away under the Things That Piss Off Knox dossier.

“All I had that was mine—my body—was taken without my consent, by you or one of your precious teammates. There’s nothing else you can do to me, Cold and Evil. Go tell your little brat pack that today. Something’s going to trigger my memory and when it does, I’m going to kill him with my bare hands.”

“I’llkill himwith my bare hands.” His eyes flash.

My heart drops and I rear back, confusion making me suck in a breath.

What?

I search for words and end up with, “Why would you say that?”

His face flattens. “And while you’re at it, let it all out. Say everything you’ve obviously been holding back for months. Do it now. Get it over with.”

I frown. How has he gotten the upper hand all of a sudden? “Why?”

“Don’t you want to? Isn’t this your first time back among us in ten months? Don’t think I don’t see all that rage inside you. Let me have it.”

Is this one of his games?

I swallow, caught between my need to lash out at a Shark—something I’ve dreamed about for almost a year—and my urge to ask him to explain why he’d kill the person who hurt me. Anger wins. “Fine. I hate you and your friends. You ruined me last year, but I won’t let you take this year from me or shape the person I’m going to be. If you make my life hell, I’ll do the same to you.”

His eyes close, his thick dark lashes lowering briefly. “Oh, Tulip. You can’t make my life hell.”

“I’d like to see you walk in my shoes.”

His gaze goes down to my Converse. “No thanks.”

“Asshole,” I say, my jaw tight.

“Yes.”

“Major asshole. Like the biggest dick at this school, and I don’t mean size-wise. I mean douchebag of major proportions. I can’t believe girls actually want you. You’re disgusting.”

“Yes.”

“And the truth is, you’ve probably peaked as a quarterback in high school. Someday you’re going to be a lonely, middle-aged man with deep-seated commitment issues. You’ll be in AA, hooked on porn, crying over your Chinese takeout—”

His hand scrubs his mouth, and at first I think he’s pissed; then I realize his shoulders are shaking.

“What’s so funny?” I snap.

His eyes spear mine. “You.”

I reach out and ruffle his hair. It’s silky under my fingers, and I flinch back, feeling branded.

I just touched him.

What is wrong with me?

He freezes at the contact and jerks away. “Don’t touch me.”

I will my pounding heart to slow down.

Mrs. White clears her throat as she approaches our table. “Well, I’m glad to see you two getting along.”

I scoff.

“I’ve got some movie choices for you,” she continues. “You’ll need to watch it together and work on the essay. Is that going to be a problem?”

“No,” Knox says tersely.

I groan inwardly. “I can’t wait to work with Knox. What do you have for us?”

She smiles, seemingly clueless about the thick tension that’s hanging over our desk. “Ah, well, I have two here, either Star Wars or Dirty Dancing. Which one?”

“Star Wars,” I say.

“Dirty Dancing,” he says at the same time, and I gape at him.

“Seriously? You’d pick ‘Nobody puts Baby in a corner’ over flaming swords and Jedi, and hello, aren’t all guys into starships and killing? Are you male? Use the Force, Knox. It must be Star Wars.”

He gives me a haughty look. “Flaming swords aside, there are aspects to Dirty Dancing we can write about. How Baby brings her family together—”

“Pfft,” I snort. “What about Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia? Chewie and Han Solo? That’s a family for you, not rich people vacationing in the Catskills—”

“—two socioeconomic groups, the vacationers and those employed at Kellerman’s—”

“God. You even know the name of the hotel. And now you want to throw out big words like socioeconomic. Surprising—I always assumed you were a bit dim.”

“You’re supposedly the brain. That’s your label, mine is jock. Keep up with the big words, Tulip.”

“If you call me Tulip one more time—”

“It’s a heck of a lot better than what everyone else calls you.”

“—I will smack your face.”

There’s silence as Knox and I stare at each other.

He shakes his head. “You’re mouthy.”

“Get used to it.”

Mrs. White holds her hand up, her eyes bouncing from me to Knox. A little titter comes from her. “I never expected you to be so vehement about your options. Is everything okay?”

Oh, I’m not backing down now. I nod. “Yes.”

Knox sighs.

She grins. “Good! I love the, um, enthusiasm. Let me see… Oh, I have it. There’s a number in my head and each of you gets to pick between one and ten. Whoever guesses closest to the one in my head gets to choose—”

“One,” Knox says, interrupting her while glaring daggers at me.

“Five,” I snap.

She gives me a sheepish look. “I picked one. Sorry, Ava, it’s Knox’s choice, so Dirty Dancing it is. I’ll leave it up to you to decide on the topic, but I like Knox’s idea about societal differences, or perhaps a discussion of how the romance in the movie has managed to capture the hearts of several generations?”

“Societal differences,” I call.

“Romantic aspect,” Knox says over me.

We glare at each other.

Are you for real?my eyes say.

Oh yeah, his gleam back. And this is going to be so much fun.

She laughs. “Whichever you want. Maybe you can come up with something more original. You need to have it watched and notes turned in two weeks from now.”

She walks off, and Knox faces the front. “She always picks one, by the way. I beat you.” A dark chuckle comes from him.

I bristle. “Romantic aspect over lightsabers? And here I thought you were a dude.”

‘“Patience you must have, my young Padawan.”’

I stare at him. “Oh, you jerk! You just did that just to get at me, didn’t you? It wasn’t about the movie—it was about you being all Let’s make Ava uncomfortable.”

He grunts and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Everything isn’t about you. Patrick Swayze was my mom’s favorite actor, and Ghost was the one movie she’d watch over and over.”

My ears perk up. “Was?”

He clamps his lips tight.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he mutters.

I narrow my eyes at him. Oh, it’s definitely something.

I pick up my pen and twirl it around. “Keep your secrets then. I don’t—”

“My mom died when I was twelve.” He rubs his hand over his mouth, as if he’s surprised the words came out.

I blink rapidly, trying to realign what I thought I knew about the inscrutable Knox Grayson. How did I not know this?

“Happened before you came to Camden.”

Okay, so he lost his mom. Don’t feel sorry for him, Ava. Fuck that. He’s Knox, a Shark, and he doesn’t deserve my—

He gives me a tight nod, interrupting my thoughts. “People die. Life is tenuous, and we get no clue as to when it’s going to be over. Not that it even matters. No one really cares.”

No one really cares.

“Super dark, Knox.” I clear my throat. “Back to the paper—”

“Right. I imagine you don’t want to spend any time with me that you don’t have to. We’re just going to pretend to watch Dirty Dancing together.”

“I can’t imagine being alone with you.”

He doesn’t answer, and I turn to look at him. He’s toying with his laptop, rubbing his fingers absently across the silver keyboard, looking at nothing. Suddenly, he frowns. “Because you’re afraid of me? It wasn’t me.” An odd look fills his eyes.

I study his wavy dark brown hair, the silkiness of it. The guy who raped me had dark hair, I think. Maybe I’m wrong, and I can’t trust those memories…

I say quietly, “I just don’t like you.”

“Thank God.” He jerks out a piece of paper from his notebook, scribbles a number, and passes it over to me. “Here’s my cell. Don’t share it, or we’ll have a problem. Maybe we can watch on the same night and talk about what topic we want to write about when it’s fresh.”

Oh.

Oh.

Knox Grayson never gives out his number. I know because every girl since freshman year has tried to get it, to sext him or whatever. I’m not one of those. Rumor is he’s warned all his buddies if they share it, they’ll be sorry.

I take the scrap of paper, instantly recognizing that the digits aren’t the same as the ones in the letter that’s been lingering in the back of my mind since I found it. Well, at least my “secret admirer” isn’t him.

“No problem. One night this week? Watch around nine and chat at eleven?” I exhale. “The younger kids get the TV after dinner, and I have to wait for them to go to bed. I don’t have one in my room. I could watch on my laptop if you want to do earlier, but I prefer the TV.”

“Younger kids? I thought you only had one brother.”

I flinch. How does he know about Tyler? I barely talked about him in the years I was here.

“I live at Sisters of Charity. I only have one brother—actually he’s my half-brother—but there are twenty little ones there and then the older kids.”

“Wait? You’re still there? I thought you’d—”

I give him a glare. “Where else would I be? I turned eighteen this past January, and they’re letting me stay for now but it isn’t permanent. I asked for a dorm here, but I don’t know if that will work out…” My voice trails off and I lapse into silence. I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear the details about me coming back to Camden.

He frowns, his brow wrinkling as if he’s in deep thought. He gives me a dismissive glance. “I see. Fine. Just text me when you want to watch it. Whatever.”

I stare at the number. Texting him? Screw that. If he thinks I want any kind of contact with him, even if it’s via a phone, he’s deluded.

But, shit, his number!

So many possibilities. Girls’ bathroom, announcing it in class, posting it online, the newspaper—hell, flying it on a banner behind a plane. I sigh. A girl can dream…

He’s leaned into my space, that stupid ocean cologne drifting around me. “If you write my number in the bathroom, I will make you pay, Tulip.”

I smile innocently. “Me? Never.”

“Mmmm.”

Thank God the bell rings only a few moments later. It felt like the longest hour of my life, and I dash out of there like a greyhound at the races.