“Komawo,” she whispers to Tae Hwa, and he places a comforting hand on her shoulder.
They slip out into the hallway, probably for a private moment, leaving me alone with Jason. I stare down at his slack jaw and the steady rise and fall of his back, and my thoughts drift back to another boy passed out on another bed.
I had never seen Nathan drunk before that night. So when I’d wandered into the bedroom of the trailer he used on tour and saw the empty whiskey bottles on the floor and him snoring atop the bed with a half-clothed blond girl, I hadn’t known what to think. I thought about saying something to Momma, but then Dad told me not to, said he would handle Nathan. We didn’t know then that Nathan not only had a problem with Jack Daniels but also with tequila, vodka, and prescription drugs.
Tears pricking the backs of my eyes, less for this boy and more for the one I left back home, I fish out the guitar picks I bought for Jason’s birthday and set them down on his nightstand, the Post-it note that reads, Happy B’day, Korean tutor! sitting on top.
I lean down close to the bed and whisper, “Don’t do this to Sophie. Whatever your reasons, it’s not worth the pain you’ll cause her.”
What I don’t add, but am thinking, is: Trust me. I know from experience.
Chapter Eight
“Class is over,” the teacher says right before the bell.
I slip my books into my tote bag, keeping an eye on Jason. I’ve got to know what happened Saturday night. When I asked Sophie why she freaked out, she wouldn’t talk about it.
“I was just overreacting,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”
But I can’t help worrying about it. Worrying about her.
Jason slips out of the classroom first, and I push my way through the other students to follow him. Nobody stares at him anymore or asks for autographs when none of the teachers are looking. I guess everyone’s gotten used to having a celebrity in their midst.
I catch up with him at the end of the hall, where he heads down the stairs.
“Hey,” I call out.
He turns, stopping in the middle of the stairwell. Other students walk around us, their bags banging against me as I struggle not to get swept up in the tide of bodies.
“We need to talk,” I say.
“About what?” Boredom permeates his voice, like he’s still sitting in class.
I take the high road and ignore his attitude. “About what happened on Saturday.”
He glances up the stairs, like he expects someone with a video camera to record our conversation. Then again, maybe he should be worried about that—if the press found out about his escapades, they’d exploit it. Like they always do. I also wouldn’t put it past the other students. They might not still giggle every time he walks by, but they watch him like vultures, like they’re waiting for him to do something gossip worthy.
Jason continues down the stairs, leaving me standing in his wake, staring after him. He did not just ditch me. I run after him.
“Hey,” I cry. “Hey!”
He disappears beneath the staircase, and I keep close on his heels. When he turns abruptly, I almost slam into him.
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t talk about my private life in the middle of the hallway,” he says through clenched teeth.
“Because you’re so interesting.” I roll my eyes. “No one cares.” A lie, but I’d argue with anything he said right now.
He cocks his head to the side. “Coming from the girl with the famous family.”
My heart jolts into overdrive, sweat moistening my palms, until I realize he’s talking about Dad. He doesn’t know about Nathan. He would have said something if he’d realized it.
“So, what did you want to ask me?” he says, yanking my thoughts back to the present with his tone, which reeks of forced patience.
“Sophie freaked the other night when you got totally trashed. I want to know why.” I blow out a slow breath, exhaling the sharpness in my voice. “If there’s something going on, you can tell me.”
His gaze remains even. “I don’t know what you mean, so I guess there’s nothing to talk about.”
I huff. “Don’t give me that.”
“Maybe you should ask her, since she’s the one you said was upset.”
“She won’t tell me.”
He shrugs one shoulder, obnoxiously calm. And that’s his answer. Or lack thereof.
I step closer to him, further into the shadows. The bustle of students behind me dims, probably a result of everyone rushing to the dining hall. I suck in a slow breath, mustering as much courage as I have in my five-foot-six self.
Ignoring the way my face heats at being close enough to touch him, I point an accusing finger at his chest. “I get that you’re going for the arrogant tool thing, and that’s fine. But you’re not intimidating me with all your sarcasm and aloofness. Because that’s all you are—a jerk—and you don’t scare me.”
A smirk twists his lips. “Maybe I should try harder.”
“I’m serious. Whatever happened, it freaked Sophie out. And she’s probably the nicest person I’ve ever met, so I’m not going to let you hurt her, even if she is your sister.”
His confident smile fades, and the coldness in his eyes melts to reveal a normal guy underneath, not the conceited prick of a few seconds ago. His gaze drops to his shoes, his bangs shrouding his eyes from my view.
“You don’t have to worry about anything,” he says, voice flat. “She’s fine. We’re both fine.”
“You sure about that?” I ask skeptically. “She practically hyperventilated at the club when we couldn’t find you. Doesn’t sound fine to me. Maybe you should check into just how fine she is.”
Frustration souring my stomach, I turn, ready to head to lunch. I’ll probably make it just before the bell if I leave now. But before I can take a single step, a hand clamps around my wrist and whirls me around.