His lips spread into a slow, easy grin. “Hell yeah. Bet.”
Maybe he’s right, or maybe he’s just being nice, but for now, warm and buzzed and wrapped in the comfort of someone who isn’t trying to break me, it almost doesn’t matter.
Almost.
CHAPTER 49
AVA
I thoughtI could face him, but I was wrong. When I walk into Anatomy class and see Ford smirking from the back row, I just turn around and walk right back out, his voice calling after me like a hook through my spine. I don’t look back, and he doesn’t chase after me. He never does.
The sting from seeing that text conversation still hasn’t faded, nor has the harsh slap of reality he delivered when I confronted him about it. It all keeps playing through my mind on an endless loop– the echo of his words, the coldness of his laugh. The way he looked at me like I was nothing.
I dash to the end of the hall and duck into the stairwell, the door groaning shut behind me. For a moment, it’s quiet. Just the sound of my own breathing. The faint hum of the building. My shoes on concrete. My thoughts chewing holes in my brain.
Fuck him. Fuck all of them.
The Kings just take and take and take, and I have nothing left to give anymore.
I’m done playing their games. Done deluding myself into thinking they care or that I can actually change them. They’ll never change. Nothing I’ve done has ever mattered, and the worst part is that it’s nobody’s fault but my own. They showedme who they were from the start. I was the one who tried to see something else; tried to grasp for something that wasn’t ever there. I foolishly thought we were building something from all this carnage, but the castle’s come crumbling down around me like a house of cards.
I push through the emergency exit and flee the building, my backpack bouncing on my shoulders as I cut across the grass to Stoker Hall. Pulling open the side door of the building, I duck inside, desperate to take refuge somewhere–anywhere– they Kings are not.
I enter the first-floor corridor of the aged building, the air cooler here, thicker. Like a tomb. Fitting, since I feel like I’m dead inside.
Drawing a deep breath, I start down the hallway, having no destination in mind but needing to keep moving. If I stand still, it feels like everything is crashing down over me. If I just move, I can almost pretend I’m outrunning it all.
“I’m just saying, all of this should’ve been over after Halloween.”
The words drift out of an open classroom up ahead and I pause, heart thudding. I know that voice– loud, sharp, always performing for an audience.Chelsea.
Morbid curiosity has me inching closer, keeping my footsteps light as I creep toward the open doorway.
“You can’t really want Raf back after the way he’s treated you,” another girl scoffs.
I peer around the corner into the room, finding Chelsea sitting on a table with one long leg crossed over the other, flanked by her two best friends on either side. Stella’s relaxed back on her palms, picking at a loose thread on the hem of her brightly-colored Lilly Pulitzer dress, while Blair’s leaning toward Chelsea with keen interest, looking like she’s two seconds from biting down on whatever secret’s about to drop.
“Maybe if you put your foot down, you could get him to see reason,” Stella suggests absently.
Chelsea chuckles, low and wicked. “More like I put my knees down and got him to bend me over the library stacks this morning.”
Blair gasps, perfectly manicured hands flying to her mouth. “Shut up! You didn’t!”
I duck away from the doorway before they can see me, pressing my back tight against the wall and a hand over my racing heart. Their laughter spills out of the classroom, and I feel it like a slap. My stomach twists, every breath shaky and shallow. I feel sick.
Pushing off from the wall, I dart away down the corridor, heart pounding, eyes trained on the ground. I don’t make it far before I collide with something hard, stumbling back in a daze as a strong hand grabs my elbow to steady me.
“Whoa, you okay, Ava?” a smooth voice asks.
Déjà vu hits me like a freight train, the day I met Wes at the Registrar’s office flashing through my mind.
But this isn’t Wes. I know his voice; know the touch of his hands. Instead, it’s Travis’ face smiling down at me as I find my balance, embarrassment coating my cheeks.
I cringe as another bout of laughter floats from the classroom. He glances past me, then back, lips pulling into a smirk like he’s connecting the dots.
“Eavesdropping?” he teases, voice low. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
He winks, and I’m so mortified that the only thing I can think of to do is duck past him and scurry away down the hall, as if I can outrun the humiliation.
