“I can’t go in there. My room’s been taken over by two happy people who remind me my heart is bleeding every time they speak. Zach isn’t home, you invaded Sawyer’s room with your Barbie, and the person who knows me best in the whole wide world apparently lost my number! That or the skank he’s banging, which I basically told him was okay, keeps sending me straight to his voicemail.” Stop, you’re scaring him with verbal vomit! My mind is reeling but I keep going. “Maybe I’ll ask him when I’m at his school this weekend with the softball team I shouldn’t even be on because I’ve sucked at it for a while now. Maybe there’s time before my stalker sends me a head in a box! But, if you take me to ‘the studio’ again,” I ramble, throwing in snarky air quotes, “cause you know, ‘I’m special,’ I’ll feel all beautiful again and forget that I’ve turned into a complete whack job who gives up and runs, just like her mother! Sound fixable Dane?”
And now he knows it all and can walk away, and quickly. I’ve just screamed, cried, and regurgitated onto him like a blubbering psycho. I’m officially as exposed and as vulnerable as I’ve ever been, and too damn numb to care. Maybe he’ll tell everyone and the whole school can whisper about me, again...gotta love the limelight.
“Why are you still standing there?!” I yell. “Are you a glutton for punishment?”
All at once he moves and throws me over his shoulder, carrying me to his car.
“Put me down!” I scream, banging on his back. “If your parakeet’s in that car laughing at me, I’m gonna kick her ass!”
I feel him laugh under me, but I don’t see what’s so funny. He throws me across the seat from his side, banging my butt against the console, and locks the doors before I can scramble out. Well, at least there’s no one else in the car; a small consolation.
“Are you kidnapping me? You’re crazier than I am.” He doesn’t answer me, just removes his jacket and dresses me in it, like a child...like I’m acting. Car finally moving, Dane just stares straight ahead and drives in the opposite direction of the dorm. The longer we ride, the more I realize I have no idea where we’re going, but I refuse to break the uncomfortable silence to ask. I lean my head against the window and close my eyes, trying to sleep off this EPIC DAY.
Chapter Twenty-Three
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EXPOSED
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Laney
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I wake up when Dane opens my door, causing my head to fall forward. It takes a minute to get my bearings; we appear to be in a garage. Dane reaches in and picks me up, then shuts the door with his foot.
“Where are we?” I ask groggily.
“My house,” he answers as he comes to an interior door. “Open that.” His hands are full of me, so I lean over and do so. We walk into a kitchen, obviously made for Rachel Ray, as Dane kicks the door closed behind him. Just this room is bigger than my childhood home, well almost, miles of beautiful dark granite and cherry wood cabinets. All the appliances are shiny stainless steel and the massive fridge could hold everything I own.
“Dane, why did you bring me here? I don’t want your parents to see me like this,” I sputter, looking up at him desperately from the cradle hold he still has me in.
“They’re not here, no one is.” He sets me down on my feet.
“I-I need to call Bennett.” I realize I don’t even have my phone with me; it’s back in my room...along with my shoes.
“I called Tate on the way. She knows you’re safe and with me.” He moves to the fridge and starts pulling things out, placing them on the large island. “Sit down, let’s get you fed.”
I take a seat on the large barstool at the island and put my face into my arms on the counter. “Why’d you bring me here? Won’t your girlfriend be wondering why you just ditched her?”
He turns back to me and lets out an exasperated sigh. “Let’s get that cleared up right now. Whitley is not, nor has she ever been, my girlfriend. And before you ask, no, I have never slept with her. You want ham or turkey?”
“Ham, please, mustard only.” Wait...what? We’re just gonna move right on to sandwich talk? Um no, we’re not. “Sure didn’t look that way tonight, Casanova, she was all over you. How’d she do on her photo shoot?” WHY, again WHY, do I care? And why do I keep opening my mouth like a jealous, insecure idiot? One minute I’m screaming at him to walk away because he doesn’t even know me, the next minute I’m asking him to explain himself.
I truly don’t like myself right now.
“I saw her outside the building and she walked up, shitfaced. Her friend lives in the building but didn’t answer her door. I’ve never taken her to the studio, much like any other girl, and if you’re gonna keep saying it, you could at least enlighten me why you think it.” He slides my sandwich over to me, staring at me like I have two heads. “No games, Laney, remember? Tell me what it is you think you know.” His eyes and tone are glacial and I feel the chill.
“When Tate saw the picture you printed me, he smirked that you had taken me to the studio,” I say with venom. “I got the impression it was a regular thing.” My head drops and I let my now-dry hair fall in front of my face. I want to hide from the vulnerability that consumes me.