Hate To Love You

I picked it up. “Hello?”

“Don’t you answer your cell phone? Ever?”

It was my brother. I frowned. “No one calls me. Why would I?”

He groaned from frustration. “I did. I have been all day.”

It was Thursday. The rest of Monday through Wednesday had been uneventful, which was glorious in my mind. I was purposely avoiding leaving my room that night because Thursday night was also the beginning of the weekend for the partiers. I still had two classes tomorrow. It wasn’t the beginning of my weekend.

I replied, “Do you need something?”

“Do you know what happened to your friend?”

“Kristina?”

“No, the queen of the slutty ones.”

“Huh?”

“The girl I asked if I could sleep with.”

A light bulb turned on. “Casey?”

“Yeah. Do you know what happened to her? Or what the rumor is?”

Gage always laughed and joked. It was his personality. His humor was missing now, which made me grip the phone tighter to my ear. I felt a tightness forming in my throat, right at the base of it. “What are you talking about?”

But she had lied to Kristina.

I didn’t know what happened after that. I hadn’t seen or gone down to hang out with them. It wasn’t an everyday thing for me. “The last time I saw them was at lunch on Monday. Why?”

“She was raped.”

I hadn’t heard that right. “No. No way.”

He let out a deep breath. “Yes. Yes way. Listen to me.” His voice sounded closer to the phone. “She has to report it. You have to talk to her about it.”

This wasn’t—I was breaking out. I was sweating, even my armpits were feeling it. This was not something I did. “How do you know this? Are you sure? Most rumors aren’t true. We both know this.”

“Listen.”

God, he was so serious. It was freaking me out. Ice settled in the pit of my stomach.

“I’m telling you she was raped. I heard enough to believe it. You have to talk to her.”

This was not my area of expertise. Being alone. Not being included, not getting involved, those were my areas. Hanging out with guys and not flirting or dating them, too. But this—I looked down. My shirt was soaked under both arms.

“I’ll talk to Kristina.”

“Who’s that?”

“My friend! The non-slutty one.” And fuck. We should stop referring to them that way. I amended, “I mean, she doesn’t go out with them that much.”

“I know what you meant.”

“Yeah.”

He was silent a moment, then gave me a quiet, “Yeah.”

I scooted back and pulled my feet up to rest on my desk. My legs were pressed against my chest, and I rested my head against them, the phone still to my ear. “She was raped. Are you sure? Who was it?”

A lone tear slid down my cheek. I didn’t know it was there until it made its trek down.

“She was, and I don’t know for sure. I heard enough to know it was a football player, but that’s it. Be safe, okay? If you go out with them, tell me or tell someone. Just be safe.”

“I will.”

I didn’t say how I wouldn’t go out with them, or how they wouldn’t go out after this, because the truth was that they would. If Casey was raped, and I only kept the ‘if’ there because she hadn’t said the words herself, she was acting as if she hadn’t been.

“Call me if you need anything.”

My fingers felt numb. My lips, too. “I will.” The words tumbled from me.

I felt removed from my body as I hung up, and I sat there. I didn’t know what to do or what the best plan of action even was. Casey wasn’t my friend, not really. I picked up the phone and then put it back down. Should I tell Kristina? Should she handle this?

That was an easy opt-out. It was more right for her to handle this, but Gage called me. He told me.

Shit.

I didn’t want to be the one to say something. Who would? Casey could hate me. She could yell at me, or hurl things at me. I didn’t know what she would do. This was like telling a friend her boyfriend had cheated on her, but a hundred times worse. Or maybe not. Maybe she’d dissolve into tears, happy that someone else knew and someone else understood.

I sucked in a ragged breath.

I didn’t plan on it, but I watched as I reached for my cell phone. My finger pulled up Shay’s number and pressed the call button.

I was so glad Missy wasn’t in the room. That was an afterthought as I heard it ring.

A second later, he answered, “Yeah?”

I didn’t reply. My throat wasn’t working.

“Clarke?” he barked into the phone.

I still didn’t say anything, but I sniffled. Another tear slid free, and I flicked it away.

“Kennedy?” He softened his tone.

Why did I call him? I hated him.

Then I asked, my voice making myself grimace, I sounded so raw, “You were pro-choice.”

“Huh?” There was loud music in the background, and he added, “Hold on.” A moment later, the music faded. His voice was louder. “You’re asking about the abortion issues? Do we need to know about it for tomorrow?”

“Linde said his sister was raped. I was wondering why you were pro-choice.”

He was silent.

Then, “Are you pregnant?”

My throat hurt so much. My fingers curled into my jeans by my knees. “Why were you pro-choice? Can you tell me? Please.”

Another beat where he didn’t answer.

His voice dropped. “Why are you asking? Kennedy, were you . . . ”

Oh, my goodness. He was going to ask me.

“No! Just tell me why you were pro-choice.”

“Look.” He cleared his throat, sounding so kind, so considerate. So gentle. “Why are you asking me this stuff? Kennedy, did someone hurt you?”

“I just want to know.”

“I won’t tell you until you tell me.”

He was so stubborn. I groaned, pressing my knees to my chest. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”

He laughed quietly. “Uh, we’re kind of a match there.” He prodded again, “Tell me why, Kennedy. Did someone hurt you?”

“No.” I lifted my head back up. My voice grew hoarse. “But a friend of mine might’ve been. My brother called and told me he heard someone I knew was raped. And I have no clue what to do.”

“Oh.”

I waited, bated breath. My heart even paused.

Nothing.

I cried out, “Are you going to say anything?”

“I don’t know what to say. I was worried about you. You’re not hurt? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m not hurt. Why were you pro-choice?”

He cursed under his breath. “You’re pushing this on me now? Fucking A. Okay, I didn’t share because I didn’t want you to look at me how you looked at those girls. I’m pro-choice because Linde is, because he’s my buddy, and I’m going to back him up. That’s why.”

“For real?” I didn’t know if I was relieved or even more frustrated. “I was hoping you could tell me what to do. I have no fucking clue.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “What would you do?”

“Talk to the girl.”

“I’m not really friends with her.”

“Are you friends with someone who is friends with her?”