exactly what it was!” I advance on him, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You showed the whole fucking world a private part of me. A vulnerable part of me. A part of me I didn’t even have a chance to understand yet! Can’t you get that?” Quieter, I make the most shameful confession of all. “Sometimes, I think it would’ve been better if you had just ra—”
He grips my chin, cutting off my words with a sharp growl. “Don’t you finish that fucking sentence.”
My throat clicks with a loud, hollow gulp. “You don’t know what it’s like. Everyone seeing me like that—knowing that I liked it, wanted it?”
“You think it’s easier to be a victim than a kinky slut?” If his sneer doesn’t tell me exactly what he thinks about that, his words do. “That’s fucking disgusting.”
“I know it’s not real,” I say, trying to calm the rush of bitterness coursing through my veins as I put my hand on his arm. “I know that. But I also know what it’s like to watch myself doing something that I can’t comprehend.”
“You want to comprehend it? You want to understand it?” He drops his hand, head shaking. “Maybe stop lying to yourself for five goddamn seconds. I know why you really turned me in. It was for him.” His lip curls as he looks me up and down. “Everyone always does it for him. Precious little innocent Sebastian, with his adorable anger management issues. The kind of guy who’d hit someone because he liked it and damn the consequences.”
Shrugging, I pick at the foil on the burrito. “That was a part of it,” I admit, nodding. “You can’t buy and sell and gamble on other people’s lives. If you want to risk your own life—go for it—but betting on Bass’, while he was hurt? That’s not okay, but that was just the final straw. I did it because I was exhausted. That video has followed me around since the day you spread it. I wanted it to follow you around, too. I wanted you to know what it’s like to feel this way.”
He snorts. “Feel what way? So ashamed of liking it a little rough that I’ve lost all fucking perspective?”
“No.” I raise my gaze to his, giving a heavy, tired shrug. “Like a joke.”
“Yeah, well.” He closes his eyes, rubbing his fingertips into them. “Mission accomplished. Because that’s exactly what I am now.”
“I don’t regret it,” I say, having no problem looking him in the eye when I do. “But I am sorry.”
His face screws up. “How does that make any sense?”
It makes perfect sense to me. “It had to be done, Heston. I’m not saying you don’t deserve it. But this feeling? I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Not even my worst enemy. Not even you.”
“Not even the guy did that to you?” He gestures to my wrist, my sleeve, eyes brash.
Taking in a slow breath, I choose my words carefully. “It’s been six months since I turned you in. What’s it going to look like if I turn someone else in? Me, the school slut.” Shaking my head, I explain, “You’re a guy, so you wouldn’t get it, but girls—especially girls with reputations—have to pick the battles we can win. Each accusation we make is a reflection on our credibility. It’s fucked up and unfair, but that’s the way it is. If I went to Dewey every time a guy touched me the wrong way, they’d stop caring. What you did? I had proof of that.”
“I know all about needing proof.” He pins me with those blue eyes. “You’re a girl, so you don’t get it, but if you bring a cute, sweet Freshman to your room and fuck her hard enough to leave bruises, you better have some fucking evidence that she wanted it. I don’t regret recording it. That was me being smart. If you’re expecting an apology for that, then you’ll be waiting a long time.”
I don’t know why I ever expected any different.
Before I make it even halfway to the door, he reaches out to stop me, hand curling around my waist. “Let me say my piece,” he says, voice hard enough that it sends a shiver scattering up my spine. Despite the hardness in his voice, his eyes are full of something resigned and chaotic. “I shouldn’t have shared it like that, though. Mostly because it was fucking stupid, but also…” He reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind my