CHAPTER 48
Nastya
I turn away from the mirror to catch Drew walking into the girls’ bathroom in the back corner of the drama department.
The drama teachers have planning this period and I’ve learned that this bathroom is almost always empty. So it’s my favorite.
“I assume we’re alone,” he says, turning and locking the door. “You know this is like the fourth bathroom I’ve looked for you in. I was starting to fear for my safety.”
“Seriously, Drew?” I whisper and it’s barely audible because I don’t care if he locked the door and no one’s around.
“I miss you,” he says, like this is a valid excuse.
“You’ll live.”
“You miss me, too. Admit it, Nastypants.”
He’s right. I miss the crap out of him.
“What is that, anyway? Nastypants?
You make me sound like I shit myself.” He looks down at my jeans as if he’s considering this.
“I’m here to drag you out of your social abyss.”
“You’re here to ask me for a favor, so get on with it, because I don’t like talking here.”
“I need your bodyguard services this Friday.”
“No, no, and no again. And wait.
Hold on a second. No.”
“What if I say please?”
“What if I say no?” He’s trying to give me the look, but he and I are so far past the look that it’s ridiculous. “You don’t need me to get you through one night.
Just tell everyone you’re meeting me after.
They’ll buy it.”
“No one will buy that after you and Josh. No one’s going to believe I’d do that.”
“There’s nothing you wouldn’t do.”
“That’s the only thing I wouldn’t do and everybody knows it. The only person in the world I wouldn’t screw over is Josh.”
“We’re not talking about it, so stop bringing up his name and trying to insinuate him into this conversation.”
“He is in this conversation whether I say his name or not.”
He holds his hands up in surrender at the glare I shoot him. I will not talk about Josh.
“Fine. All I have to say is that I thought I had self-destructive tendencies but you two make me look well-adjusted.”
“Is he alright?”
“Actually I’m pretty sure he’s the opposite of alright, but I’m also pretty sure that you knew that when you asked.”
“What did he tell you?”
“Nope. Not playing this game. You’re the one who made the rules. Not going to talk about Josh.” He makes himself comfortable on the bathroom counter like we’re in his kitchen at home. “Now, subject at hand. They don’t need to think that I’m with you. I just need you to come and keep me in line. If you don’t, I’ll end up walking through the house, asking every single person if they’ve seen her. And then I’ll probably say shitty things about her just to have an excuse to say her name or get her attention.” He doesn’t say her name now but it’s no secret who he’s talking about. “You have to save me from myself.
And save yourself from utter boredom and solitude in the process. Win-win.” There isn’t any win for me in this situation. I’d rather staple my lips to my tongue than go to a party tonight. I climb up next to him on the counter and let out all the air in my lungs and he does the same.
“I should just go back to the way I was before,” he says. “I used to be so awesome and she made me suck.”
“If that’s what you want, do it. Start tonight. You won’t have any problem finding some girl willing to accompany you on the road back to soulless debauchery.”
He doesn’t respond, because he and I both know what he lost on that path already, and he hasn’t forgiven himself for it. I don’t know if there’s another solution but I try to offer him one.
“Isn’t there another girl you can ask out? For real? Try to have a normal relationship? You messed everything up with Tierney, but you could actually try to learn from that and do it right this time.” It’s an asinine suggestion. If he told me to learn from my mistakes with Josh and put that knowledge to use with someone else, I’d dislocate his jaw. But it’s all I’ve got to go with right now. “What about Tessa Walter?” I suggest.
He shakes his head. “Crazy eyes.”
“Macy Singleton?”
“Laughs too loud.”
“Audrey Lake?”
This time he glares at me like I’ve just suggested he date the Antichrist.
“She
says supposably.” If Drew Leighton were a woman, this would be his unforgivable thing.
“So why don’t you just try again with Tierney?” She’s the only one he really wants. I could name every girl in this school and he would find the flaw in every last one of them.
“I can’t ask her to forgive me. I wouldn’t respect her if she did. I don’t deserve it.”
I don’t deserve it either. I’m not enough of a hypocrite to argue.
“Can’t we just skip it? You don’t have to go. You never even drink at these parties. Why would you want to hang out with a bunch of drunk a*sholes for no reason?” It’s true. It took me a while to pick up on it, but once I did, I never stopped noticing. Drew gets a drink as soon as he walks in and he carries it around the whole night, so everyone assumes he’s drinking, but he never is.
“You noticed that, huh?” He’s almost impressed. “You’re the first one.”
“I’m guessing there’s a reason.” I’m expecting him to say something about having to drive, but that’s not what I get.
“Kara Matthews,” he answers, like this explains everything, but he knows it doesn’t and I wait for him to give me the rest. “I don’t even remember doing it.
Tierney ripped me to shreds for hours that day and she was right. She was right about everything she said about me, except the fact that I didn’t care about her. But everything else she nailed me on. I got so lit that night that I would have screwed anyone at that party. I shit all over Tierney and everything and I don’t even remember doing it.”
“And you think if you weren’t so drunk you wouldn’t have done it?”
“No,” he replies honestly. “I probably would have. But at least I’d know. If I was going to mess everything up, at least it would have been a conscious choice.” It makes perfect sense to me. He may not revel in the pain he caused himself but at least he could say that he chose it. That’s not the only thing that haunts him, though.
There’s a question there, too. The slim, slight possibility that, just maybe, he wouldn’t have done it. Maybe if he hadn’t been so wasted things might have turned out differently, and he would be with Tierney right now, not in a girls’ bathroom being haunted by dead possibilities.
He shrugs in resignation. “I figure the next time I want to completely destroy all chance of happiness, at least I’ll remember doing it.” It’ll make the self-loathing that much easier.
***
I could say that I have no idea why I agreed to this, but it would be a lie. I miss Drew, too. And I’m sick of myself. I’d rather drink flat beer and hang out with people who don’t like me. No one at that party will hate me as much as I hate myself, so it’ll be an improvement.
It’s crowded already when we get to Kevin Leonard’s house. The music is blaring and I wonder how long this can possibly last before the neighbors call the police. I hope they do, so I can leave, because I already regret it. I don’t mind all of the people. I actually do better with crowds and numbers but the noise makes me edgy. I need the quiet to hear what’s coming.
I follow Drew through the house, my fingers threaded through his belt loops so I don’t lose him. He wants me on him tonight, I’m on him.
Damien Brooks finds us first and I can’t stand him but he’s at least familiar.
“Drew!” He’s already drunk. One word and it’s evident. “Damn. I know you had her first but I didn’t think you’d go back there after Bennett. Man, you’ve got balls.” He’s laughing and congratulatory.
Drew’s laughing, too. I’m not even in the room. Oh, wait. I am, but you wouldn’t know it the way they’re talking. Good thing I don’t give a shit.
Then Damien’s eyes go wide like he’s just discovered the atom or the concept of self-pleasure. “Have you guys been sharing her this whole time?” Maybe I do give a shit. At least a little. Because I’m not listening to this anymore. I grab Drew’s hand and start to pull away. I think he’s had enough, too, because he doesn’t fight me.
And then there’s Tierney. The sniper I’m being used as a human shield against. I actually really like her and I wish I wasn’t the person being tasked with keeping Drew away from her. I don’t blame her for wanting to hate Drew, but it doesn’t mean she does. All of a sudden I wish they could just get their shit together, but my hypocrisy slaps me in the face before I can think any more on the subject.
We make it to the kitchen at the back of the house where Kevin Leonard is manning a keg with a crowd surrounding it.
They start chanting Drew’s name like he’s their god, and I guess if I was a teenage boy with no game, he’d be mine, too. It takes no time before we have cups full of warm beer and are fighting our way back out of the kitchen.
An hour and four and a half crap beers later, I’m leaning against a wall while Drew talks to a girl in a very tiny, very sparkly top, who has no problem shamelessly flirting with him in front of me. True to form, Drew is still carrying around the same half-full cup of beer he’s had since we walked in. I’m not completely trashed, but I’m tired and I want to go home. I’m tipsy enough that my brain isn’t bombarding me with a diatribe on how idiotic I am. Instead it’s whispering that calling Josh wouldn’t be so bad. Drunk dialing the perfect, incredible, wonderful boy I pissed all over might even be enough to win me a gold medal in selfishness. I don’t get to fully explore that thought, though, because I’m back on duty.
Tierney
starts
walking
in
our
direction and sparkly tank top girl walks away. Tierney’s like that. No one really f*cks with her and I want to hug her and tell her I think she’s sooooo awesome and maybe I’m a little drunker than I thought. I didn’t eat today which might account for that. Rookie mistake.
I step over to put my half full beer on a really ugly end table (I notice these things now); I don’t need to drink any more. Once I can pull Drew away from Tierney, I will have fulfilled my responsibilities and I can get him to take me home.
When I turn around, Drew isn’t there.
And neither is Tierney.
I start pushing my way through the throng of people, looking for either of them. I figure one will lead to the other, but it’s not like I can walk around yelling their names and asking if anyone has seen them.
I’m staying against the wall, out of the center of the chaos, when Kevin Leonard finds me.
“Enjoying the party?”
Huh? Is he expecting an answer? I give him a stupid thumbs-up and try to keep walking. Drew Leighton so owes me something for this. I start mentally making a list of what I want. There’s only one thing on it, so far, but I think it’s out of his control.
“Wanna have sex with me?” Kevin asks. This was not the one thing on my list.
I try to walk around him and his monstrous ego. He’s obviously plastered and I’m getting more sober by the minute. I really want to go home and I want to kick Drew’s ass. I’m not sure which of those things I want more right now and Kevin Leonard is still talking.
“We can go to my room. I blocked off the upstairs. No one will know.” I’ll know, jackass. And I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to block it from my memory.
“Come on, baby.” Guess that’s my answer. Real boys do call girls baby. Too bad I don’t feel like laughing and I don’t have time to choke him. “Please.” Does he think I’m looking for manners now? Well, since you said please, I may have to reconsider my previous hell no stance on screwing you. I was just waiting for the good breeding to kick in. I shake my head as definitively as I can and keep moving. Mercifully, he gives up and doesn’t follow me.
He did give me an idea, though, because if I can’t find Drew in the next ten minutes, I’m not waiting around to be propositioned again. I’ll find another way home.
The next ten minutes are as fruitless as the last. I even give it another ten, just for shits and giggles, before I finally concede defeat. I walk the downstairs, and at least a few people have started to filter out so it’s not as jam-packed, but the music is still tattooing itself on my eardrums and splitting my brain. I shoot off a text to Drew asking where he is but I don’t get any response. I send him another one telling him I’m sneaking upstairs to try to find a ride. I still don’t get an answer.
I hang around the bottom of the stairs for a few minutes, and when Kara Matthews starts doing a beer bong in the kitchen, I use the distraction to duck under Kevin’s makeshift barricade and sneak upstairs so I can use my phone.
I may be a little shitty right now, but even with a few beers in me, I never forget to watch my back. No one follows me and I turn down the hall to the left and slip into one of the bedrooms. I stay against the wall until I can feel the light switch. The room is empty. The music is still blaring and I can just make out the muted chanting of Kara’s name. I take out my phone, knowing there are only two people I can really call.
Josh is the one I want to call but I don’t really know if that’s allowed anymore.
There’s Clay, who I’d have to text, but I could have done that from downstairs. I came up here for one reason and it’s because I wanted to call Josh.
I dial and wait but there isn’t any answer. It doesn’t go straight to voicemail.
It just rings. When the recording finally kicks in, I hang up. It’s too pathetic to think about leaving him a message. I flip the keyboard open to shoot Clay a text and see if he can pick me up, but before I can get the first word out, the door opens.
And Kevin Leonard is there.
“I thought you’d change your mind,” he slurs, and I wonder how much he struggled to get it out. I’m about to shake my head again but he’s right in front of me now. And I’m not running away or saying no or pushing him. Because, really, I just don’t care. If I want to ruin myself, then this is my chance. Josh is gone, like everything that was taken from me and everything I’ve thrown away since. There is no Josh Bennett for me anymore. There really isn’t anything.
That’s the only moment I have to think before his tongue is in my mouth and he tastes like piss beer and I probably do, too, and everything about this is disgusting, but I deserve it. He’s grabbing my chest through my dress with one hand and running the other up my thigh. My arms are limp at my sides and I close my eyes and just let him do it. He starts pulling my underwear down and then stops to get rid of my dress. He pulls it part of the way up and I can feel the cold air on my inner thighs and against my stomach, reminding me that I should be used and thrown away, too.
Then his hand is between my legs and I gag into his mouth when I feel his fingers.
And maybe I’ve finally had enough and I won’t choose this pain.
I break away from his mouth and his hand and I pull my dress down. If there is such a thing as rock bottom, it’s where I am right now. I can lie to myself. I can lie to Josh. But it’s just that. A lie. I didn’t destroy any part of me when I slept with him, even if I did destroy everything after.
I knew that it wasn’t true when I said it and I know it now. I don’t regret one minute I ever spent with Josh. What I regret is every single second after. I regret ripping his heart out. I regret sending us both straight to hell.
If I let Kevin Leonard do this, if I let myself do this, then this, here, now, will be what destroys the last good thing about me.
This will be my unforgivable thing. I will never come back from it because there will be absolutely nothing left in me worth loving. And for once in my stupid, pissed on life, I can’t do it. Or, more importantly, maybe I won’t.
I push my hand against his chest. Not violently. Just decisively. I shake my head at him. No. I try to look apologetic. I feel guilty. Am I supposed to feel bad in this situation? I don’t really know the rules. I yank my dress down as far as it will go, but it doesn’t feel like enough.
“What the f*ck, Nastya?”
I shake my head again. I mouth the words I can’t because I need to make sure he understands. He understands, but he doesn’t care.
“You’re really going to blueball me up here at my own f*cking party?” I don’t even have a chance to bend over and pull my underwear back up before he grabs me and kisses me again and I don’t need an invitation. I stomp on his foot and grab for the door, but my hands are shaking and it’s locked and I can’t make my fingers work fast enough. I get the lock flipped but I don’t have enough time to turn the doorknob. I should have gone at him harder but I didn’t think I needed to. I just wanted to let him know it wasn’t happening and give myself enough of a window to make it to the door and get out. But it’s not enough.
His hand wraps around my arm, turning me to face him and I grab his pinky finger and bend it back. I’m not in a position to take him down and I just want to get away.
That’s all. I hear his finger crack and his other hand immediately swings up and punches me. It’s such a knee-jerk reaction, I’m not sure he even realizes what he’s done. I catch the full force of his fist against my cheek and my balance is off, so the impact spins me face first into the corner of the nightstand next to the bed. I can feel the blood running down from the corner of my eye and I swipe it away.
From this position, I flip over and try to buy myself a second by kicking him but he grabs my ankle and drags me away from the door. My underwear has worked its way down to my knees, the panic is starting to push bile into my throat and I feel myself stop breathing.
I’m panicking like this is a nightmare.
He’s laughing like it’s a game.
“Come on. You came up here and made me think you were going to screw me. You could at least suck my dick.” He doesn’t even sound angry. It’s like he’s trying to convince me.
If I had any bad feelings about fighting dirty, they’re gone now. The shit part is that I’ve never been as good at defending myself from the ground and nothing is as easy as it was when I was practicing in a controlled situation. Nothing. Plus, the beer isn’t helping, no matter how sober I suddenly feel.
I don’t have the kubotan. It’s in my purse under the seat in Drew’s car, right next to my can of pepper spray because I didn’t have anywhere to clip it on my dress. I figured I was going to be stapled to Drew’s side the entire night, anyway, so I didn’t think I’d need it. Maybe the operative words there are didn’t think.
The fact is, I don’t want to use either of those things on Kevin Leonard. I just want to get out of this. I feel like I’ve set off a string of explosions and now I’m trying to outrun them.
It doesn’t surprise me that putting myself in this stupid-ass situation is what it takes for me to finally decide not to completely incinerate what’s left of my life. I’m such a f*cking idiot. Maybe karma is just trying to give me what I said I wanted, but never really did. To wreck myself once and for all.
I can feel my cheek burning where he hit me and the blood from the gash is running into my eye and I’m trying to focus because I’m afraid at any moment I’m going to leave this room and be back in the trees, with dirt and blood in my mouth.
And then I’ll lose all control. I’ll stop fighting completely. Kevin Leonard will be able to do whatever he wants, and I’ll let him because I won’t even be here anymore.
The focusing is almost impossible when my brain is split between staying awake in this room and trying to fight him off. He’s over me, pinning my arms and legs to the floor and pushing his mouth on me again. He has every one of my limbs is immobilized. I can’t even shift. I lean into him to give me just enough leeway to tilt my head back and head-butt him because that’s the only option I really have. I’m aiming for the bridge of his nose but my position is off and my forehead cracks against his instead. It’s a mistake but he’s so drunk that it’s enough. My head is screaming at me from the impact as his sweaty body falls on top of mine, crushing me with the weight of every bad decision I’ve made over the past three years.
“Dude! Forget it.” There’s saliva running down the side of his mouth.
The fight has gone out of him and I think it finally hits him, in his drunken stupor, what’s going on, because he looks at me like he’s just now seeing me bleeding from the head on the floor in this room with him. He leans back and I haven’t even had a moment to turn my body and free myself when the door abruptly opens and I’m looking up from the floor, underneath Kevin Leonard’s body, at Drew Leighton’s face.
“What the f*ck, Leighton?” Kevin spits out. There’s more embarrassment than venom in it, but I’m not excusing him any more than I’m excusing myself. He’s still struggling to push himself off of me and I use the distraction to twist my hip and get the rest of the way free.
For a minute, or maybe just a second, Drew is frozen. There are so many emotions on his face that I can’t sort them all now. Confusion, disgust, anger, guilt, fear, horror. I wonder how bad my face is to make his look like that.
Kevin is barely standing now and I’m dizzily getting to my feet, my head still reeling from smashing into his. Before I even register what’s happening, Drew’s fist is in Kevin’s face and he’s down again. I look at Drew and he’s shaking.
There is something so wrong with the sight of Drew Leighton hitting someone. Drew Leighton is supposed to be sunny and irreverent and free of every care in the world. There isn’t even a glimmer of violence in him. I wish he hadn’t done it. I wish he hadn’t seen this, because as crazy as I know it sounds, I feel like he’s just lost his innocence.
Drew is standing in front of me, knuckles bleeding, with a look of such sheer despondence that I feel like I should comfort him. But I can’t. Now that this is over, my adrenaline is starting to drop and I want to get away from here, because I smell like Kevin Leonard and I’m starting to shake, too.
I lean against the wall to steady myself. Drew curses under his breath, pulling his sleeve over his wrist and trying to wipe the blood away from my eye. “Can you walk?” he whispers.
My look tells him I can and that I don’t appreciate the question. I don’t say anything. We turn toward the door and I realize that my underwear is still at my ankles. I stop and just stand there, looking down at them. Drew turns to find out why I’ve stopped, his eyes following mine to my feet, and all of his muscles tense when he sees why I’m not coming. He stifles another curse as I bend over to pull them up because I can’t look at his face right now.
“Stay behind me, okay?” His words are strained and he sounds like he’s in pain. He takes my hand so tightly, I think he might crush it and pulls me behind him so I’m blocked from view. I catch Tierney Lowell watching in the hall before I turn away. I drag my hair down around my face and lean into Drew’s back like I’m wasted, just until we can get through everybody and out the door. And maybe wasted is exactly what I am.
My face is bleeding and swollen but I don’t even care. For the first time in forever, I make a choice not to shit all over my life and I can’t even like myself for it because I made it five minutes too late.
At least no one can tell me it was random.
***
“Are you okay?” Drew waits until we’ve gotten in his car and driven away from the house to ask. I’ve hated that question for years.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Your hand.” My eyes go to his split knuckles which are straining even more with his iron grip on the steering wheel.
“I don’t give a shit about my hand,” he bites out at me and I instinctively recoil because I’ve never heard him raise his voice. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” He pulls into the parking lot of a convenience store and parks the car. This whole situation is f*cked up and he says so at least three or four times.
“What happened?” He sounds like he doesn’t really want the answer.
“Just a stupid situation that got out of hand.”
“You think?” His tone is sharp.
“Are you pissed at me?” I ask.
“No, I’m pissed at me.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s my fault you were in that room in the first place. I finally bothered to look at my phone and got your text. I thought I’d find you sitting up there and waiting, not on the floor with Kevin Leonard on top of you.” He takes a breath and lets it out watching the lighted R on the store sign flicker in and out. “Josh is going to kill me.”
“Josh isn’t going to care.”
“You know that isn’t true, so don’t say it. I don’t have it in me to argue with you about it tonight.” There is so much weight in his voice that I feel it physically pressing on me.
“If you knew what I did to Josh, you would hate me, too. He won’t care and I won’t blame him for not caring.”
“You’re right. I don’t know what you did to Josh. I have no idea what went on there because neither of you will tell me. I do know that whatever it was will not be enough to stop him from giving a shit about someone hurting you.”
I flip down the visor and check the bruise on my face and the cut on my eye in the mirror. It’s really not so bad, but my cheek and my forehead are already starting to swell and I know it’ll all look worse tomorrow.
“His pants were still on.” He’s tracing the logo on the steering wheel now.
I nod, even though he’s not looking at me.
“So, he didn’t—”
“No,” I answer. I don’t want to talk about Kevin Leonard anymore. “Did anybody else see?” I ask.
“I don’t think so. Tierney did, but she was looking for us so—” he cuts himself off. “I don’t think anyone else was paying attention.”
We sit there, pretending to be mesmerized by the flashing lottery sign.
“I shouldn’t have left you.”
“You and Tierney?” I ask, ignoring the unspoken apology.
“I don’t know.” He shakes his head and turns the key in the ignition. “We need to get ice on your face.”
Drew doesn’t tell me where we’re going. He doesn’t ask where I want to go.
He takes me where I need to go and maybe where he needs to go, too. He takes me to Josh’s house.
The garage is closed when we get there, but Drew and I both have a key to the house. He turns his in the lock and pushes the door back for me. I walk inside and Drew follows. When we step into the dark of the foyer, it takes us a minute to process what we’re hearing. And then I wish on a thousand pennies that we didn’t have that key.