Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
It’s an overwhelming popularity I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
I have hundreds and hundreds of unread messages, a huge chunk of which are from Kayla, Julia, Ace, and Blake. All four of them are kind and consoling and worried—desperately. I’ll never forget the way they all supported me last night and stood by me despite the ridicule from everyone else, but I’m not ready to face them yet.
I’m afraid I’ll see everything I’m feeling in their eyes.
There’s one message that stands out above the rest, however, making my heart ache for too many reasons to count.
Finn: I just want you to know that I’m here for you, Scottie. Always.
He was there for me last night—silent and stalwart and strong without pushing. He was kind and calm and reassuring and everything I love about him. But I’m still not sure if that changes anything.
It’s been a roller coaster of ups and downs with him, and the bottom of the last hill scraped the depths of hell.
Despite my better judgment, I keep scrolling, and when I spot the conversation I had with my sister last night, tears well in my eyes. She thinks our mom is sober. She thinks she’s doing better. She thinks she’s on the road to recovery, for shit’s sake, not fucking frat guys at college parties while she’s too far gone to know her own name.
Wren would be devasted if she knew. I can’t tell her the truth. At least not right now. Maybe someday, but not today.
Today, I’m going to crawl back into bed and cry until I can’t anymore.
Yesterday, I was a cheerleader with a broken heart but the world in front of her. Now, I’m just the girl whose alcoholic mom showed up to a college party, got drunk, and had sex for all to see.
I’ll never be the same again.
Finn
I am surprisingly calm when we arrive at the Dickson Campus Police station. Officer Walters leads me into a conference room at the center of the building. I sit down after he removes the cuffs, and he rounds the table to the door. “Would you like some water?” he asks, looking back at me.
I shake my head, and he files out of the room, leaving me to my thoughts. They aren’t crisp or tangible, but a buzzing chaos just behind my eyes.
I know this is a big deal—I’m not an idiot—but I can’t seem to find any remorse.
Moments later, he’s back with Officer Marks, who’s followed by Dane and Nadine.
Dane’s face is a fucking mess. Dried blood is still evident on his skin and the stupid snowman sweater he had on last night, and bruises have settled into dark circles below both of his eyes. There are cuts on his cheeks, chin, and forehead, and his lips are both swollen and busted.
They sit down in two chairs on the opposite side of the room, against the wall instead of at the table, and the officers drop some paperwork on the surface at the other side of the table before stepping out of the room again. Nadine’s eyes are both hard and frightened, but Dane is back within the bounds of his bravado. He’s confident I won’t beat his ass here. Though, I have to admit, I’m tempted to prove him wrong.
“You’re going to fucking pay,” he says on a hoarse whisper, the grip I had on his throat last night obviously having done a number on his voice.
I don’t respond, but I also don’t avert my eyes.
“Did you hear me, fucker?” he taunts again, leaning forward in his chair to use an angry pointing finger. “You’re going to pay. My father’s lawyer is already on his way, and you’ll be lucky if you don’t get prison time.”
He’s trying to goad me into losing my cool, but I don’t give an inch. His scowl is brittle by the time Officer Walters comes back into the room with Dean Kandinsky, who’s sporting jeans, a sweatshirt, and an old pair of boots.
I know it’s not in my best interest that he looks like he just got out of bed. I’ve never seen him in anything but a pristine suit and tie before now, and this morning, his eyes are red, and his hair is ruffled.
He sits down in one of the chairs on the other side of my table, and Officer Walters sits down beside him. Officer Marks posts up by the closed door in a chair next to Dane and Nadine.
“Let’s hear it. What happened?” Dean Kandinsky asks me through a deep sigh, his jaw flexed and rigid.
Dane, with absolutely no intention of letting me give my side of the story, rambles his bullshit behind him. “Sir, Finn Hayes assaulted me at the Delta Omega Christmas party last night.” I don’t miss the fake-as-fuck frown on his face or the trumped-up shake of his hands. This prick’s plan is to milk this for all its worth as the dean spins his chair to face him.