Do you miss me, Dove?
I awake with a gasp, quickly sitting upright in the bed as I clasp at my chest. With trembling hands, I reach out and flick on the bedside lamp. I can feel the pulse hammering at the base of my neck, as I work to calm my breathing. You’re safe. You’re in your room on campus. You’re not back there.
I toss back my covers, noticing how my top sticks to my clammy skin as I get out of bed and throw on my gym gear, not bothering to check the time. I can tell by the lack of light coming through the window that it’s not even dawn yet, but there’s no way I can get back to sleep now. My mind is racing in tune to my pulse, and the only way I know to stop the thoughts is to exhaust myself at the gym. These few hours each morning have become my only moments of peace all day. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but when I’m not beating on a bag, or Mason, or pushing myself on the treadmill, I can’t seem to focus. I’ve been snapping at everyone all week, over the stupidest of things, and it’s only getting worse, no matter how hard I try to hide it.
I push open the door to the gym and pull on the fingerless gloves Mason bought me. I drop my bag on the floor and quickly go through my warm-up routine, jumping up and down on the balls of my feet and windmilling my arms to loosen them up.
Once I’m ready, I fixate on the bag in front of me until I can clearly picture Lawrence’s grotesque face—his too bushy eyebrows, the way his nose curved slightly, the dimple in his chin—then I beat and beat and beat on that bag. The whole world fades around me. Nothing exists but Lawrence and I. This is the only time I feel in control, when I feel like I have all the power. The rest of the day, his ghost chases me around, whispering in my ear and taunting me from afar, until I’m a strung-out mess. I can tell the guys are starting to worry. They keep asking if I’m okay, and the words I’m fine are beginning to lose all meaning.
I sense when he enters the room, the same way I get an inkling any time he’s nearby. It’s like the air around him reacts to his presence, sparking to life. I respond to the change in the air like it’s an extension of my own skin, yet I don’t stop pummeling the bag. It’s been the same all week. He stands and watches me for a while, before moving to the weight bench and going through his usual routine. When he’s done with that, we duke it out on the mat, and I don’t know what it is about us tackling one another, but when I’m facing off against him, drinking in his ripped abs and broad shoulders, I feel more like my old self. It’s not the same feeling of control I get when I’m punching the bag, but it’s a different kind of contentedness. I can almost forget all the shit that happened to me. It’s the same when I’m around any of the guys. The adrenaline that courses through my veins, creating a constant buzz just under the surface of my skin, seems to die down for a while, and I feel like I can breathe again.
But it never lasts long. Eventually the fear seeps in, and I become consumed by runaway irrational thoughts. It’s like an electrical storm in my brain that messes with the synapses and prevents them from firing properly.
By the time we’re done with our workout, showered and ready for class, Cam is entering the apartment with breakfast for everyone. Since our showdown in the dining hall on Monday, we’ve avoided going back. Instead, Beck, Emilia, and Wilder join us every morning, and the eight of us enjoy a nice, peaceful breakfast before we have to leave and mingle amongst the prying eyes of the rest of the school.
The whispering and staring since Mason announced I was dating the three of them has gotten ridiculous. I can only imagine how bad it would be if they found out I was also dating the school counsellor. I don’t miss the whispered ‘slut’ when girls walk past me, or the filthy looks guys throw my way. I don’t even want to know what disgustingly dirty things they’re picturing. Thankfully, none of them are brave enough to do anything more than whisper or leer.
A pounding I’m becoming far too familiar with has started up behind my eyes by the time lunch rolls around. I meet the guys at the dining hall to grab our food, and we take it to eat back in the dorm.
As I’m walking out of the hall, the guys behind me, Bianca stomps past, scowling at me. “If it isn’t the Slut of Pacific Prep,” she sneers.
I spin to face her, my fists clenched at my side.
“What the fuck did you just call me?”
“You heard me. Anyone’s vagina that’s loose enough to take three dicks at once is obviously a whore.”
Cam snorts behind me, and I think I hear him mumble, “That’s not how it works,” before there is the sound of someone whacking him around the back of the head.
“What the hell is your problem, bitch? What the actual fuck did I ever do to you?”
“You ruined everything when you showed up here!” Bianca cries.
I roll my eyes. “Grow up, Bianca, and take some responsibility for your own actions. I didn’t do shit.”
“HE LOVED ME!” she yells, before breaking down in tears. “We were going to get married. Then you showed up, and he changed.”
I quirk a brow at Cam who rolls his eyes at her dramatics. “That was never going to happen, B.”
“Not you!” she sneers. “Lawrence.”
We all freeze. “Lawrence?” Cam repeats. “As in my dad, Lawrence?”
“Yes,” she snaps. “We were in love.”
Damn, I kinda feel bad for the girl. He was most definitely not in love with her. I’m pretty sure he was incapable of giving a shit about anyone other than himself.
“Then she showed up here, and he became as fucking infatuated with her as you idiots.” She glares thunderously at me. And my moment of feeling sorry for her disappears just like that. “He’d make me style my hair like yours.” Her lip curls back in disgust. “And call him Sir.” She steps toward me menacingly, unaware of the precarious churning of my stomach. “It was your name he’d call out when he was balls deep inside me. You and that fucking magical pussy you have that makes men drool all over you like fools. You’re like the Pied Piper of dicks.”
Bianca looks like she’s about to launch herself at me and claw my eyes out. Hawk must see the unadulterated hatred in her eyes too, as he pulls me back a step. “Is Lawrence your baby’s father?”
Bianca’s gaze jumps to Hawk, her menacing expression melting away as a fresh set of tears well up in her eyes. Her lower lip quivers. “He told me to get an abortion, but I couldn’t. He was just worried because I was still in school. It wasn’t part of the plan, but I knew once I graduated and we were married, he would see it differently, and he’d regret making me get rid of it.”
“I have a brother or sister?” Cam gapes.
“Half,” Bianca snaps, her hostility making Cam scowl.