telling me he doesn’t fully buy it.
“You wanna talk about it?” I kick off the fuzzy shoes I wear around the house and slip my feet into my unlaced tennies in anticipation.
“If you’re not too tired.” I’m sure he’s already driving toward my house.
“Of course not,” I say, flipping off my light and quietly closing my door.
“You want to start telling me about it now, or wait until you get here?” I ask, anticipating his response.
“I’m almost there,” he says.
Hayden opens up better in person. He also only really opens up to me. That happens when someone finds you on the wrong side of a bridge railing with an incredibly steep drop over some very jagged rocks, drunk from too many shots at a party you didn’t want to go to in the first place.
Not Hayden.
Me.
“I’m at the end of the block,” he says.
“Okay,” I say, making my slow descent down the stairs.
I’d gotten the call for the audition, and I went to the party in the woods to celebrate. Sean McCaffey’s parties are legendary. He’s rich, and he owns the land he throws his parties on—massive bonfires and expensive-ass booze. I went alone because June swore she’d met her party quota for life, and she’s turned Lucas into a homebody. Naomi and Lola weren’t around to play my wing woman, so I went expecting to know a few people there and with the understanding I would only stay an hour.
The guy I met that night was cute, and two hours passed with many drinks and a lot of talk. I was feeling a good buzz, and we hooked up. I didn’t go all the way, and I was fully aware of my choices and consent. What I wasn’t aware of was his motives.
He left that party with three photos of me—three compromising photos. On his phone. It only took thirty minutes for the bribe to hit my phone. What’s crazy is I knew I was too drunk to drive; that’s why I was walking home in the first place. The idea to climb out over the bridge railing was an impulsive one. A destructive choice would have kept my keys in my hand and my ass behind the wheel. All I could think about, though, for those four miles I wandered in darkness, throwing up twice, was that my dad was going to use this against my mom.
Hayden found me before reason left my head and I jumped. He brought me home, and when I woke up in his car sitting in my driveway, I spilled my guts. He spilled his. We cried, and not a single night has passed that we haven’t talked on the phone just to give each other an out, an excuse to mess up and hate ourselves for a little while.
“I’m out front,” he says, my hand cupping the phone to my ear.
“Be right there,” I say, ending our call and grabbing the sweater hanging on the finial at the bottom of the staircase. I slip my arms inside to stay warm and rush to the dining table to pick up my keys. I stop dead in my tracks, though, because sitting right next to them is a black sweatshirt that someone left behind, and I can’t help but sense that he did that on purpose.
11
Tory
“Did you sleep out here all night?” Lucas flips up the tailgate on his truck with a thrust in case I didn’t hear him blare out his question.
I pull my feet up and lift my knees, rubbing my eyes from the bright-ass sun. My hat must have fallen off because my hair feels ratty like I was raised in a cave. Goddamn, I feel like shit.
“Only half the night,” I say, rocking myself into a sitting position. Lucas tosses his backpack into the back of his truck and rests his arms against the frame, looking at me like I’m a toddler in a baby pool.
“Oh, well, that makes sense, then,” he cuts, his mouth a tight light.
I rub my face to help focus my eyes, then crank my neck right and left, trying to work out the kinks before flattening my wild hair under my black hat.
“Therapy didn’t go well. Kinda hate Hayden right now. I maybe went to Abby’s last night and made things all fuckin’ weird, and I hate that I have to live with my mom. That a good enough reason to sleep in your truck for six hours?” I lift one brow and hit him