“If you think I’m an ass, I deserve it. Being a dick to you seemed like a good way to protect you . . . but maybe it wasn’t the best idea.”
I open my mouth, but no words come out. When Gretchen showed me the video, I had laughed. Despite all the feelings I couldn’t get over, Marcus clearly hated my guts. I figured she’d only said that to work him up for the footage.
Every nerve in my body burns. It isn’t fair to be hearing this now.
“Look, once I knew I was in deep with Gretchen, I spent a lot of time observing, trying to figure my way out.” He pauses, like he’s searching for the right words. “That’s when I started to notice how strong you were. She ruined everyone else around her, but you seemed—untouchable.” His voice hitches. “I admired you for that.”
Untouchable. I almost choke. If he thinks I’m someone to admire, he couldn’t have been looking very closely. He’d have been better off despising me. He watches me now, his eyes burning into me like a need. I can’t let him see this on my face, so I stare down at my hands.
“But I was in on it,” I say through my tears.
THIRTY-ONE
“WHENEVER SHE WAS UP TO something, she made sure I played a part.” I close my eyes. Take a breath. “She knew Reva had a crush on her. She led her on, let her think she was interested, then made me hide and take video when Reva tried to kiss her.” My hands are shaking, but now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. “She had me pick up the steroids for Tyrone. I don’t know how she got them; all I did was drive. She told him he could just use them until he got ahead, but when they worked, he was afraid to stop . . . just like she knew would happen.” I swallow. “I was afraid of her, afraid what she might do to me. I didn’t want any part of it, but I went along with everything she did. I’m no one to admire.”
I raise my head, but I can barely bring myself to look into Marcus’s eyes. I don’t think I can take the judgment, the disappointment. Not after everything he’s said. When I finally gather the courage to steal a glance, his face is solemn. But his gaze is soft.
“I figured it was something like that,” he says quietly. “At first I thought she didn’t have anything to hold over you, that you were just like her. But that wasn’t the way Gretchen worked. She was clearly in control—but she wasn’t destroying you. She was so pissed when you got your scholarship, I almost confessed everything to you right then. I wanted to know how you did it. I wanted to see you win.”
I shake my head, haunted by Gretchen’s website, what will come of the meeting on Monday. If she were here, I’d probably be begging to go with her to Stanford. And, of course, that’s what she wanted. A tear slips down my cheek.
“I was never going to win. She let me live this whole other side of life, let me see just enough to know what I wanted . . . or what I didn’t want.” I lower my eyes, thinking of my mom. “When I got into Penn, it seemed like I might actually have a chance, three thousand miles away from her, but even then—” My voice catches.
Marcus reaches out, hesitates, and I let him take my hand. My fingers disappear in his and a shot of warmth, comfort, travels up my arm, spreading through my chest to every terrified, anxious point of my body. It’s everything I’ve wanted and don’t deserve and I struggle not to pull away. He moves closer and the low tingling inside me passes through my skin until my whole body vibrates. He isn’t wearing a jacket and I need somewhere to focus that isn’t his eyes because my heart is already beating so fast, I’m dizzy. I look at his shirt, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.
“It even crossed my mind she might’ve planned her death—this whole thing.” I wipe my cheek with my other sleeve. “Like she was willing to go that far just to mess with me.”
“I never even thought of that.” His voice is grim. “I wouldn’t have put it past her.”
I let out a long breath. “You might think this sounds messed up, but Gretchen wasn’t always awful. Sometimes we just had sleepovers and watched movies or went to the beach. I could talk to her about things . . .” I think of her distracting me with ghost stories in the woods. Of the time I came down with the flu at her house and she insisted I stay a full week until I felt better. One time she’d even offered to track my dad down so I could meet him. “I—I really miss her.”
“You deserved better. . . .” Marcus traces his fingers through my curls, leaning close. I tip my head back, hesitate, afraid to fall into him.
A light comes on inside the house and the back door opens. I pull away, let go of his hand, but not before Dina steps onto the patio. She stands there with her mouth open.
Marcus backs away. “I’d . . . better get home.”
“Okay,” is all I manage to say before he disappears into the shadows. It takes a full thirty seconds to get my heart enough under control to raise my head and look at my aunt.