tomorrow. It’s not thoughts of my last final that have me actively trying to stay in the present. No, it’s the conversation I know will happen after our friends call it a night.
T is the first to make her way over to where I’ve been wiggling my ass against Mase, not even attempting to hide my smile at the constant hard-on digging into my lower back as he leans around me trying to get my Mrs. Pac-Man to be eaten by the ghosts.
“I’m outie.” T braces her hands on the side of the arcade machine, popping up onto her toes and leaning in to place a smacking kiss on my cheek.
“I take it you and Savvy watched Clueless last night?” I twist my face for my own, less enthusiastic cheek kiss. Along with their regular Gossip Girl binges, T and Savvy have an affinity for movies made in the 90s.
“It’s a classic.” She shrugs.
“How are you getting home?” I ask since I was her ride.
“King’s outside the gate.” She holds up her phone, waving it side to side. “It’s poker night.” She does a little shimmy as she moonwalks out the door. Whenever there’s the risk of the roads being icy in the winter, King hosts underground poker tournaments, and brilliant Tessa is his ringer. When she’s finally twenty-one, the chick is gonna clean up at the casinos.
As the clock ticks closer to midnight, the rest of our friends start to say their goodbyes in groups. CK leaves with Em and Q, after confirming with G and me to meet in the library tomorrow for one last study session.
I already asked Trav to stay, so when the others who live at the AK house start saying their goodbyes, he remains seated on the couch.
I’m bent over laughing, watching Noah dance away from a scowling Mase after giving me a Good game-type butt smack. I roll my eyes; they really are overgrown children.
The twins have gone to bed, and by the time Mase pulls me to sit on his lap on the couch next to Trav, it’s only the three of us left. I’ve put this off long enough—too long, really. No more stalling.
Based on the expectant way I see Trav watching me out of the corner of my eye, I get the feeling he suspects the reason I asked him to hang around. He may not know it, but I’m grateful he hasn’t brought up the subject since I asked him about it when I was in the hospital.
Doesn’t make this any easier…
Up and down, round and round, I make sweeping glides with my finger over the tribal ink on Mase’s arm. Maybe if I focus on it, I’ll be able to get this out.
“When…” I work to swallow around the nerves that have taken up residence in my throat all of a sudden. I clear it and try again. “When you both figured out the game Chrissy/Tina”—underneath me, Mase’s entire body turns rigid—“was playing…who broke up with whom?”
“Whhyyy?” Mase drags out the question, but there’s an edge to it.
“I need to know.” I chance a glance through my lashes at Trav, and he’s still as a statue. “It’s important.”
“Kayla…” Uh-oh. It’s never good when Mase starts using my full name. “She doesn’t deserve a second of your attention. She’s irrelevant, insignificant, and inconsequential.”
“Way to bust out a thesaurus on those adjectives, bruh,” Trav teases.
“Fuck off, asshole.” An arm tightens like a band around my middle with the curse, but I’m grateful for the joke. Mase is going to need the levity when I have to tell him how wrong he is.
Gurrlll, you let people toss you over their heads like most do a ball. Woman up—you’re braver than this.
Heeding my inner cheerleader’s advice, I take a deep fortifying breath and pray.
“The night of the rival rally, she showed up at my dorm.”
“Who?” Mase asks, but it’s not me who answers him; it’s Trav.
“Tina,” he says quietly.
“WHAT?!” Mase barks out, and I involuntarily flinch. Lips kiss the top of my head in an attempt to soothe me.
“She said she came to warn me.”
“Warn you?” I nod when Mase repeats the word.
“I’d be careful. He doesn’t always take no for an answer. I should know.” Even now, my blood boils at her implication. Her lies are the type that sets victims of sexual assault back years in making progress toward getting justice.
“She tried to tell me you raped her”—I’m squeezed even tighter—“and when I wouldn’t believe her absurd accusation, she tried