pitch of his voice sounds odd, the tone contradicting his height. This guy is Harlem Globetrotter tall. He pushes his glasses up his nose.
I shrug, tucking my precious beauty products closer. “Don’t think so. Maybe we’ve been at the same hostel or something?” But I’m pretty sure I’d remember a guy who could climb Jack’s beanstalk in three strides.
He narrows his gaze and cocks his head. “Yeah, maybe…”
With a smile, I leave him staring after me. I drop my toiletries in my room and check my phone again. I texted Mom last night, gushing about Sam and Florida and all things culinary, and I still haven’t heard back. When I flip over my cell, I frown. One missed call from home, but no message. Mom never calls. I thought she’d support my choice, be in my corner like always, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she’ll try to talk me out of going. That conversation can’t happen until Sam and I have a plan—schools, apartment, and a job all figured out. I need proper ammunition to defend my decision, aside from the obvious, but he’s really hot.
Determined to make this work, I tuck my phone in my purse, practically skipping down the hallway to see my boyfriend, when an all-too-familiar sound floats from the lounge. I stop short. My gut churns. I almost throw up. Thankfully, time slams to a stop and prevents any actual regurgitation. I strain my suddenly bionic ears, picking up every horrifying sound, my breath now coming in gulps.
This. Can’t. Be. Happening.
A deep laugh echoes from the lounge around the corner, halting my hyperventilation. I’ve memorized the vibrato in that sound to the point where I could write a symphony around it. Sam’s rumbling laugh is decadent, each note sexier than the last. The next sound is equally memorable, but for all the wrong reasons. It’s not the words that trigger my visceral reaction. Taken out of context, they could refer to anything—a chance meeting with a celebrity, a UFO invasion, but when I hear, “Did that just happen?” in the distinctive voice that chased me around high school, my throat closes. Someone’s watching the Public Speaking Video.
Then Sam laughs again.
I’ve seen my famed YouTube video enough times you’d think I like rubbing salt in fresh wounds. I just couldn’t believe it really happened, that it was really me. I’d watch it again and again, my own corporal punishment for being such a mutant. It got to the point where Mom had to unhook the computer in my room to break the cycle.
As I approach the lounge doorway, I recognize every hoot and holler from that video as if it were filmed yesterday. Trembling, I poke my head around the corner. Two computers are at the back with three guys crammed at one and Sam at the other. Sam laughing uncontrollably. Laughing. At me. It’s the only explanation. And it’s the thing he said he’d never do.
I haven’t had a migraine since that video surfaced, but spots cloud my vision, and my temples throb. Everything else numbs. Sam looks up then, deep frown lines setting in. My cheeks are hot. I feel the wetness, but I don’t remember tears falling. He pushes back his chair, but as soon as he steps toward me, I retreat. I run down the hallway to the girls’ dorm and crash into Leigh. I drag her back inside as he yells, “Nina!”
Wide-eyed, she takes in my tearstained cheeks and blotchy chest—the curse of my pale skin that displays every emotion. “What did that bastard do?” Her words come out in a hiss.
I shake my head. “Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.” I rub my palms across my eyes and release a shuddering breath.
She grabs my arm and drags me over to her bed, one of six in the room. A couple of girls are getting ready to go out, the others probably already exploring Christchurch. As we sit cross-legged, her phone buzzes. She reads her text while I study the ceiling and try not to fall apart.
I relive the moment at the beach with the necklace and Sam’s words, the euphoria followed quickly by his traitorous laugh while watching the most embarrassing moment of my life. I trusted Sam. With him, I was the best version of me. He made me believe he’d never let me fall, no matter how much I stumbled. He promised he’d never laugh at me.
So much for promises.
It taints every word he’s ever said, every kiss he’s ever