Love Rewritten Page 21

  I’m sure I’ll regret this too, but what the hell? It’s not like I can make anything worse between us.

  Me: I’m so sorry for everything. I have a lot more to say to you. Please come home soon.

  I press send and instead of waiting for a reply that I know won’t come, I walk into Dough, the pizza place, and get myself a slice to go. But as I’m walking back, my phone rings. I scramble for it so quickly that I almost drop my pizza box on the sidewalk.

  But it’s not Xander, it’s Nina.

  “Hey girly girl, how’s it going? How’s Vegas?”

  “Abby. Hi.” She sounds funny.

  “You okay?”

  Silence.

  “Nina?”

  “I’m here,” she giggles. “Sorry, I was just looking at something. I’m here with Aubrey. We wanted to see how you’re feeling.” I toss the pizza box onto the counter in the kitchen along with my keys.

  “Much better, thanks. How’s it going out west?”

  “Great,” she says in an overly excited cadence. I hop up onto the counter, otherwise known as my perch. “We’re going into the desert tomorrow.” Her voice lowers. “I’m totally nervous about that, Abby.”

  I laugh. “I don’t blame you. But you’re a big group. You’ll be fine.”

  “Here, Aubrey wants me to put us on speaker so he can talk too.”

  “Hey, Aubrey,” I call out into the phone though I know I don’t actually need to speak any louder than I was a moment ago.

  “Hey, baby sister.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “How are you feeling? How are things there?”

  “Fine. I’m doing much better. I even went out tonight for pizza.” My eyes glance across the kitchen at the box that’s sitting on the counter. “How’s it there, Aubrey? Tell me something.”

  “Abby, You and I have to come back another time. It’s freaking awesome. The pools, the clubs, the bars and restaurants. We’ve barely even gambled because there is so much to do.”

  “Yeah, next time I’m definitely in.” I smile to myself when I think about how glad I actually am that Aubrey hasn’t been here this week. Too much has happened and it wouldn’t have if he had been here.

  For better or worse, all of this stuff needed to be figured out.

  “I don’t know if we’ll have cell service in the desert, but we’ll call you when we get back into civilization,” Nina says.

  “Sounds good. Hey, I’ve gotta run,” I lie. “I’ll talk you both soon. Love you.”

  “Love you too.” They say in unison making me laugh. Was it me or did they sound different?

  After they hang up, I check my phone.

  Still nothing from Xander.

  And my appetite is now gone. It’s still not fully back, but it was better. I just can’t stomach the idea of greasy pizza, so instead I walk over to the couch, sitting down and getting comfortable as I flip on the television. Some Like It Hot is on the Classic Movie Channel so I lay back against one of the throw pillows and try to distract myself with Marilyn Monroe and Tony Curtis.

  My eyes fly open when I feel someone touching my face.

  “Shhhh. Go back to sleep,” Xander says softly as he covers me with a blanket.

  My head lifts up, and I look around, a little disoriented. I’m still on the couch in the living room.

  “You’re home.” My voice sounds like I just swallowed gravel.

  “Go back to sleep.”

  I shake my head. “I want to talk to you.”

  “In the morning,” he whispers. “It’s late and I’m tired.”

  “Where were you staying?” I ask, lowering my head back to the pillow but keeping my eyes trained on his dark form as it stands over me, bathed in shadows.

  He sighs deeply, lowering his head a little and my heart sinks because I think I can imagine where he was staying. “I was at Gavin and Grace’s. I have a spare key to their place.” I wonder if he stayed there alone since Gavin and Grace are both in Vegas.

  “Oh.” I’m hoping he doesn’t see how relieved I am. Which is stupid. He may have had feelings for me years ago, but a lot has changed since then and he’s pretty much hated me all these years. Just because he’s home doesn’t mean we’re suddenly friends, or more.

  He starts to walk away and I’m dying to stop him, but I don’t. He’s right. It’s really not the time for a heart to heart.

  Oh, and then there is the whole Brandon coming over in the morning, drugging conversation thing that has to happen.

  I glance at the bright blue clock on the cable box. 4:47. I wonder if he’s just getting home. I highly doubt he was at Gavin and Grace’s just now and then decided in the wee hours of the morning to come home, right?

  That sort of puts it all into perspective.

  There is no way I can go back to sleep now. Not only did I fall asleep early as hell, but my mind is too full.

  Padding quietly across the cool hardwoods, I go into my room, wash up and then get changed into my running stuff. This is going to be brutal since I haven’t been running in weeks, and I’m sure my lungs aren’t one hundred percent, but I gotta do it sometime and a run usually helps to clear my thoughts.

  It smells like spring as I step outside into the predawn morning. Like rain and grass and newly budding trees. The sky is the deepest of blues. Not even the birds are chirping yet, which tells me I’m probably nuts to be out here like this.

  But I don’t care enough to go back inside and wait out the sun.

  My lungs burn with every breath I take. The pain becomes so bad that I find I’m grabbing my chest like a fat man having a heart attack. I’m panting for my life, unable to draw enough air to breath let alone run.

  “Shit,” I mutter, pissed off that I’m still not able to get back to where I was. I didn’t think I’d be able to do the whole loop, but come on.

  Slowing to a walk, I clasp my hands at the back of my head, trying to get in more air. There’s a bench about ten feet away on the edge of campus that has my ass written all over it. Pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, I lean back against the cold wood. I’m facing east, which is a rather nice bonus since the sun will be making an appearance in the near future.

  I may not be able to clear my head with a run, but this quiet moment, sitting on a bench in the relative darkness of the morning, is the next best thing.

  The bench is positioned in between two street lights so I’m hidden in the shadows, tucked away from anyone who would pass by. There are too many things swirling around my head right now. The conversation with Brandon that I’ll have to have with him today. Then, of course, there is the constant mindfuck with Xander.

  It always seems to come back to him, doesn’t it?

  But none of these things are actually where my mind seems to want to go.

  I find my thoughts straying to my manuscript. To the ending of the novel I’ve found myself writing. To the sudden realization that I don’t want this to be the last one I write. I’ve never considered myself a writer. Probably because I tend to be a little on the OCD perfectionist side of things.

  That said, once I began writing the new story, following that outline, I had fun. I love making the characters come to life. Their idiosyncrasies and personality traits that make them more real to me.

  And I get to craft them.

  Manipulate and develop them into however I want them to be. I’m writing a story that has taken a change beyond the cookie cutter.

  And I’m addicted to what’s going to happen next.

  What does that mean for me? Was this Halpern’s master plan when she put me in the senior level writing class, even though I’m not a creative writing major? Did she know something about me before I did?

  Maybe.

  I already have an internship in place for this summer at a publishing house in New York, and I don’t intend to get out of it. I think I may use it for my own benefit.

  Because I think I want to be a writer.

  There, I sai
d it.

  I realize how risky this is. How the prospect of failing is very real. Even though I tend to be a practical girl and writing as a profession doesn’t exactly fall into that realm, I think I’m in.

  No.

  I am in.

  I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting out here, but the sky is turning shades of purples, violets, pinks, and gold. It’s beautiful and I can’t seem to pull myself up and off this bench, despite the cold.

  So I sit and I watch and I find a peace within myself I didn’t know I was capable of.

  CHAPTER 23

  THE KNOCK ON MY BEDROOM door startles me. I’ve been writing on my bed for the last hour or so since I got back from my failed run. I haven’t had anything to eat yet, which I realize is a bad thing, especially since I didn’t eat dinner last night, but my stomach just wasn’t there yet.

  The knock tells me that my empty stomach will have to wait.

  “Yeah?” I call out, sliding my laptop onto the bed beside me, shutting it closed. My door opens with a creak and my eyes widen as I see Brandon standing there with a huge smile on his face.

  “Hey,” I say surprised, moving to get off the bed. “How did you get in?”

  He laughs, walking over to me and throwing his arms around me like he couldn’t stand the distance between us a moment longer. “Someone was coming in downstairs when I got here so they let me in and your dick of a roommate let me in the apartment.”

  “Oh.” Xander let him in? I didn’t even realize he was awake, or here. I step back, out of his embrace, which makes a small frown pull at the corners of his mouth.

  “Are you mad at me about something?” he asks, concern etched on his face. “You were really short with me the past couple of days. Did I do something wrong?”

  I sigh, taking a step back and sitting on the edge of my bed. Brandon hasn’t moved and his height is a little intimidating, but I don’t let that stop me. “I need to ask you a question.”

  “Okay,” he draws out the word. “You’re making me nervous.” His hands are tucked into the pockets of his jeans as he looks down on me. Apparently, he doesn’t like our height difference either because he comes and sits down on the side of the bed, facing me.

  I take a deep shaky breath, letting it out slowly. Here goes nothing. “The night you and I met at that party years ago?”

  He smiles, seemingly relieved that that’s what I want to talk about. “What about it?”

  “Do you find it odd that I don’t remember anything about that night? Not the party, not meeting you, nothing?”

  He cringes.

  Just for the smallest of seconds. If I had blinked, I would have missed it.

  But I didn’t blink and I didn’t miss it.

  “Um. I don’t know. Yeah. Sure. I guess so.” He’s lying. I can see it all over his face and hear it the apprehensive intonation of his voice.

  “But you didn’t seem to think it was the day I met you in the library. In fact,” I raise an eyebrow, meeting his eyes that are trying to skirt around my face, “you thought it was funny.”

  “I don’t know.” His hand comes up to scratch the thin layer of stubble on his chin. “It just seemed funny, I guess.”

  “Brandon,” my voice is calm and oh so collected, “I’m going to ask you something and I don’t want you to lie to me.”

  “All right.” He looks down in between his parted legs at the floor. He knows what’s coming next.

  “Did you drug me that night at the frat party freshman year?”

  His head doesn’t move, but his eyes slam shut and a deep breath rolls through him.

  He’s quiet for a moment. Maybe deciding if he’s going to lie to me or not. Maybe figuring out just what to tell me.

  Finally, his head slowly rises and his eyes find mine. “It’s not what you think.”

  “And what do I think?”

  His hands come up, covering his face and rubbing up and down a few times before dropping them to his thighs with a slap. “I wasn’t going to rape you or anything. It wasn’t like that.”

  Jesus, I’m going to be sick. My empty stomach rolls over and I’ve never been so glad that I haven’t eaten in more than twelve hours in my life.

  “You slipped me a roofie and you expect me to believe that there was no malicious intent with that?” My voice is far calmer than I feel.

  He’s got to be kidding me.

  I’m cute, not stupid.

  “Just let me explain, Abby. Please. It wasn’t like that, I promise.” He’s pleading with me. His entire body is turned in my direction. His wild eyes search my face as panic starts to creep into them.

  “Explain it to me then.” It’s really not going to change the outcome, but I’d like to know the story anyway.

  “Okay.” He nods looking a little relieved that I’m giving him this chance, but he really shouldn’t be. I’m about two seconds away from punching him in his perfect teeth. “So, the frat house was not where I was living at the time, right? I was in the dorms, but since I was a star recruited freshman, we were allowed to go to the senior party without any hazing or anything. Chris, Tony, and I were ordered to come early to the party, before anyone else got there. Oliver Myers was the captain of the lacrosse team that year, and he sat the three of us down and handed us each a pill.”

  He shifts, looking beyond uncomfortable about this. Unable to meet my eyes any longer, he looks at the wall across the room.

  “He told us that three promising freshmen every year got these. That we were allowed to use them on any girl of our choosing, but that we had to be extra careful because the team could not afford any rape charges.”

  Oh, holy fuck!

  I move away from him. My skin crawling with the fact that I let this asshole ever touch me. “That is quite possibly the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard.”

  He nods.

  “I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that you took the pills and slipped one to me or the fact that this is a tradition amongst you sick demented rapists.” I’m fuming right now. I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry in my life.

  “Let me finish, Abby. Please.” His eyes burn into mine. “It wasn’t like that for me. I fucking promise you it wasn’t.” He reaches out for me and I slap his hands away and his face crumples. “Please, let me finish. It’s not what you think. I didn’t slip you the pill. It wasn’t me!” He stands up quickly, pacing back and forth in front of my bed. “It wasn’t me,” he repeats frantically.

  “Then who the fuck was it?” I yell, slamming my hands down on the bed on either side of my legs.

  “It was Chris.” He stops, dropping to his knees on the floor in front of where I sit. “I would never have drugged you or anyone. I wasn’t going to use it.” His hands come up to the bed on either side of mine, but he doesn’t lean into me. He’s keeping his distance, which I appreciate.

  I need that right now.

  “Then why take it?” I shake my head. “Why not report it?” Disdain and disgust ooze into my tone.

  He looks down at my lap, ashamed. “I couldn’t,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “Oliver was the captain of my team, and if I had reported him—the captain of the championship winning team—I would have been destroyed by the rest of the team. I could have lost my scholarship. Schools bury stuff like that, and it’s not as if there was an assault or rape charge against him.” His eyes come back up to mine, begging me to understand. “My parents aren’t wealthy like yours, Abby. I’m here on a full athletic scholarship. I couldn’t risk that.”

  I sigh, lowering my head as I think over his words. It’s a lame excuse, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand it too.

  Brandon is right.

  The team and the school would have buried his ass.

  And yeah, I’m not here on a scholarship and neither is Aubrey. Money has never really been a concern of mine. I have everything I need and more, so I’m really not in a place to judge that sort of fear. If I was in his position, I’
m not sure I would have done anything differently if I’m being honest. I’m not proud of that admission and I like to think I would have done what I could to put a stop to it, but I don’t know if I would have not accepted it at first either.

  “Anyway,” he goes on, “I had put the pill in my pocket and was going to flush it later that night. And in truth, as the night began, I forgot all about it. It just wasn’t on my mind, you know?”

  I nod, believing him.

  “Then I saw you walk into the party.” He reaches out for me and for some reason, I let him put his hands on my ankles that are crossed on top of my bed. “With your long red hair, though it had streaks of black in it back then, and big bright amazing green eyes. You were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.” He shakes his head once. “So unlike all of the other girls who normally go to those parties. When I saw Chris hand you a beer, I became crazy jealous. I didn’t want him to have you. I wanted you and I went after you.”

  Chris gave me the beer?

  Why didn’t I remember him when I saw him again? Not even an inkling of recognition. Nothing. My stomach rolls again thinking of all the time I’ve been around him in the last six weeks Brandon and I have been together.

  “Chris tried to talk to you, but he must have said something that annoyed you because you rolled your eyes at him and walked off. So I went up to you and we talked, Abby.” His eyes search mine deeply, imploring me with his words. The hands on my ankles give a light squeeze. “We talked about normal stuff. And I liked you so much, instantly. Then I left to grab another beer, telling you that I’d come right back, but by the time I did, you were gone.”

  Brandon’s hands come up and take mine that are folded in my lap, intertwining our fingers.

  “I looked all over the house and when I went up to Chris to see if he knew where you’d gone, he said he didn’t, but then he started laughing. I asked him what was so funny.” Brandon’s eyes go down to our hands and he stares at them for a moment, moving his thumbs across my skin. “He told me he’d given you the pill in your beer,” he whispers.

  I gasp, though I don’t really know why. I already knew he gave me the pill. Maybe the fact that he thought it was funny. That the creepy sadistic fuck thinks drugging women is funny. Brandon laughed about it too, though, didn’t he? When we met at the library.