through the speakers and I hit the button to silence it. Fuel. How appropriate. I’m having a very bad day right now.
When I turn back to the window, Jason fills it. Our gazes fasten on each other. His eyes are rimmed in red and his face is streaked with salty tears.
“Please, Sara. Open the door,” he begs in a whimper.
I press the lock back. He yanks the door open and falls to his knees, searching for my hands with his. I wrench them away and he drops his hands in his lap.
“Why?” I ask, my voice cracks with emotion.
“I didn’t, Parker. She she just threw herself at me when we got back to the dorm.”
I stare out the windshield. Anywhere but at Jason to let the rage win inside. “So it’s all her fault,” I state, my jaw tight.
“Yes.”
I cross my arms. “That’s not what it looked like.”
“That’s what it was,” he insists, placing his hands over my knee.
I swipe his hand off. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”
He lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender.
I drill him with my eyes. “It looked like you two knew each other well.”
He opens his mouth and pauses, then closes it.
“We said no more secrets, J!”
He looks down with his mouth drawn. “It was the girl I told you about before.”
The betrayal cuts deep into my insecurity, then nicks the untapped anger, allowing it to pour out unrestrained. I squeeze my hands into fists and pound on the dashboard with the sides, letting out a primal scream in the process.
Jason doesn’t interfere, probably knowing he’ll become the target of my fists if he did.
I straighten myself in the seat, then glare at him when my tirade ends. “I’m leaving. Now,” I say, low and even.
“Please stay and talk to me, Parker.”
“I can’t talk to you, listen to you, or look at you right now.”
He stands and I maneuver into the driver’s seat. He bends down and looks inside. “Please call me when you make it home.”
“Fine.”
He shuts the door and steps back.
I turn the key in the ignition one more time and the car thrums. I put the car in reverse and check behind on both sides before backing out. I make no attempt to look at Jason.
I drag myself from the car to the apartment minutes later, weak and exhausted. I pick up the phone and dial Jason’s room rather than his cell phone.
“Yo,” Tommy answers.
“Hey, Tommy.”
“Sara! I thought you were coming over.”
“I was there, now I’m back home. Tell Jason I made it home.”
“Do you want to talk to him?”
“No.”
“What’s wrong?”
I burst into fresh tears.
“What happened?”
The scene replays in my head and the feelings then crying intensifies. “Tommy, I…“
“Sara, let me come over,” he says, concerned.
I just found Jason in a lip lock with another woman and I’m a wreck. My instinct is to say no, but I remind myself that he’s not Jason or Simon. He’s always friendly when I call and visit. He gave up the comfort of his bed so Jason and I could have privacy. He was protective of me when I punched Jordan. He has never given me a reason not to trust him.
He says my name again, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Okay.” I give him the apartment number to call from the gate.
My mind is numb and won’t hold on to a thought. I lie on my side on the folded up futon, staring at the blank TV, wanting nothing more than to hide myself in the crease of the futon. The ringing phone brings me out of my stupor and I stumble for it. I buzz Tommy in, open the door, and flop back down on the futon.
He walks through the door a minute later, dressed in jeans, gray UCLA basketball shirt, and his collarless leather jacket. He closes the door and shrugs out of the jacket, dropping it by the door.
He makes it to the futon in a few, long strides and sits next to me. He draws me into his embrace and I start bawling again. I wrap my arms around him and hide my face in his shoulder.
“It’s going to be okay,” he says, rocking.
The lulling movement settles me and I calm after a few deep breaths. I pull back and wipe my eyes with the back of my hands.
“What happened?” he asks, his tone gentle and one arm still around me.
I recount what happened when I got to the dorm and Jason’s story.