Kappa cloud server, copying the video, and uploading it without consent. Mrs. Hobbes believes, and the officer we spoke to agreed, that there’s a strong case.
I didn’t ask what would happen to Jules and Kevin, or when. I don’t particularly care, as long as they’re punished. My mother, however, called Briar’s dean of students at home and scheduled a meeting with him first thing tomorrow morning. By the end of the day, I suspect Briar will begin the process of expelling those two.
My brain is still spinning. Dominoes in my mind have yet to fall. Just the click, click, click of a thousand consequences rapidly colliding toward an eventual conclusion at some distant time, in some future place.
The panic has subsided, though. The overwhelming cord of dread around my neck has loosened. Instead, I’m bursting with ideas, surging with adrenaline. I’m sure the chemical stimulation will fade soon and I’ll crash a few days from now to sleep for a week. Until then, dot, dot, dot.
After I get out of the bath and put on my pajamas, I stand in the hall for a moment watching Conor on the couch. His eyes are closed, head lolled to one shoulder. His chest rises and falls on deep, restful breaths.
He’s remarkable. Not many guys would have reacted to the situation the way he did, appreciated the gravity of the violation rather than making light of my humiliation.
But that’s Conor. He has an instinct toward empathy that most guys don’t. He’d rather make people around him feel good about themselves, even when it provides no personal gain for himself. More than anything, that’s what I fell in love with.
I was foolish to think I needed to protect him. He’s the strongest, most resilient person I know.
I’m tempted to let him sleep a while longer, but as if he senses me watching him, his eyes blink open and find me in the shadows.
“Sorry,” he says huskily. “Didn’t mean to crash on you.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s been a long day.”
A nervous silence ensues. Conor shifts around collecting his phone and keys from between the couch cushions.
“Anyway, I’ll get out of your way. Just wanted to make sure you were okay after everything.” He gets up to leave, coming around the couch.
“No,” I say, stopping him. “Stay. You want anything? Are you hungry?” I catch his arm and then release it like it bit me.
I don’t know how to be around him now. The ease between us isn’t here right now. It feels stilted and forced. But there’s also this indefinable urge to be near him that grows stronger the longer he’s here.
“Not really,” he says.
“Yeah, me neither.”
Shit. This is awkward. As far as I can tell, we’re still broken up. Despite everything we’d been through with each other over the past few weeks, I don’t know how to approach the subject. I mean, I stood outside the Kappa house and shoved a knife through this chest. He came back to help me in a time of need, but that doesn’t mean all is forgiven.
“We can, um, watch a movie?” I suggest. Baby steps.
Conor nods. Then an almost imperceptible smirk dances across his lips. “You inviting me to Netflix and chill?”
“Damn, you’re easy. I mean, jeez, Conor, have some respect for yourself. You’ll never find a good woman if you’re always giving the milk away for free.”
He sighs dramatically. “My mom keeps saying the same thing, but I never learn.”
We laugh, still standing all stupid and nervous in the middle of my apartment. Then his expression sobers.
“We should talk,” he says.
“Yeah.”
He leads me over to the couch to sit. Facing me but staring at his hands in his lap, he struggles to find a place to start.
“I don’t know where your head’s at or what your expectations are. I don’t have any, I want you to know. You’re going through something, I get it, and I want to be here for you, but only as much as you want me to.” He shrugs awkwardly. “Whatever that looks like.”
I open my mouth to interject, but he holds a hand up to say he isn’t finished yet.
After a deep breath, he continues. “I made out with another girl last night at a party.”
I briefly close my eyes. “All right.”
His throat dips as he swallows. “I got hammered and it happened. She took me to a bedroom to do more, but I couldn’t go through with it—physically or emotionally. Honestly, though, it was more of a physical impairment. I