The Blood Between Us (14 page)

I hung there between Carter and Taylor, barely able to keep myself upright. And finally, when Taylor let go and retreated back up the hill, I allowed myself a moment to think that it was over. Driving home the point that it wasn’t, Carter punched me in the side, I fell with a groan, and Ben gave me a swift kick in the ribs. I lay there on the cool ground, in the darkness, feeling my entire body throb with pain, wondering what I had done that had deserved such a sharp retaliation. Slowly, with their laughter echoing behind them, my attackers left me alone in the woods.

I didn’t move for a long time. I stayed there on the ground, listening to my heart race, my head pound. I tried not to cry, but tears pooled in my eyes and rained down the sides of my face, wetting my hair. Maybe it was stupid, maybe it was childish, and I’d never admit it to anyone if they asked—but in that moment, all I wanted was my mother.

Not that she’d been the most warm or loving parent. My mom had always been enveloped in her work and a huge supporter of independence in her children. But what I’d always wanted her to be was what I closed my eyes and wished for as I lay there on the ground. Her hand brushing the dirt and leaves from my hair. Her kiss on my brow. Her kind words telling me that everything would be all right.

What I wanted was a mother whom I had never known. A mother I would never have.

I rolled to the side and pushed myself up on my elbow, struggling to stand. Finally, I got to my feet, then moved up the hill, drying my tears with my sleeve. I headed straight back to my dorm without stopping, cradling my ribs and wincing with every step.

When I opened the door to my room, Quinn’s eyes widened in shock. “Jesus, what happened to you?”

He helped me to my bed, where I sat with a groan. Deadpan, I said, “I went on a lovely Sunday picnic with twenty of my closest friends. We played croquet and badminton. It was nice.”

“Did you get in a fight?” It was such an obvious statement that I wanted to laugh, but didn’t, for fear of the pain.

“Not exactly. I mean, my face was in a fight, as were my ribs, but I most assuredly was not.” I unbuttoned my shirt and slid it off, marveling at the enormous shoe-shaped
bruise on my side. If my guess was right, Ben wore a size nine. “And before you ask, my face lost.”

Quinn’s brow was furrowed. He kept shaking his head, as if his denial of my predicament would somehow help the situation. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Hand me the medical kit from the cabinet in the hall? And maybe grab me some ice?” He left the room immediately, and I caught my reflection in our television screen. I looked much worse than I felt, which was saying something. Maybe the adrenaline was kicking in. About ten minutes too late, but I’d take what I could get.

The last fight I had been in was in the third grade. I’d been examining a colony of ants with a magnifying glass and a boy who lived nearby had insisted on killing them instead. I’d shoved him, starting the fight. He’d creamed me, finishing it. I hadn’t been in a fight ever since. It just wasn’t my strength, or my style.

When Quinn returned to the room, he handed me the medical kit and started gathering ice from the tray in our small freezer, wrapping it inside a towel for my face. “Who was it?”

“Three total assholes with very large fists—one by the name of Ben Winchester.” Inside the kit were several small antibacterial wipes. They stung as I dabbed at the open
wounds on my face. Quinn sat down on the bed beside me, looking more than a little concerned. “Ben used to come over and play in my sandbox with me when I was in kindergarten. Suffice it to say, I won’t be inviting him over again anytime soon.”

“Maybe you should go to the nurse. I think she’s on call twenty-four-seven.”

“And say what? That I was at an unauthorized party and got the crap beat out of me?” Tossing the wipes into the trash, I stood up and made my way to the bathroom. Every time I inhaled, my side lit up with pain. “That’s just not how I roll, Quinn. Besides, there’s nothing she can do that I can’t. Clean it up, take a few Tylenol, slap a butterfly bandage on the cut over my eye, and voilà. It’s like I’ve been to nursing school.”

Quinn’s shoulders sank in apparent insult. “My mom’s a nurse.”

He handed me the towel filled with ice, and I felt like such a tool. “I’m sorry. I’m just . . . trying to figure out how to get my life back.”

“You could start by not being so much of a jerk.” The hurt was evident in his eyes. You could do a lot to a guy, say a lot about him. But don’t mess with his mom. That was an uncrossable line.

“You’re all right, Quinn.” I pressed the cool towel to my eye and the bridge of my nose. “And what’s more, you’re right.”

He nodded, accepting my unspoken apology, even though he didn’t have to. “Your nose is bleeding.”

Sure enough, drops of crimson dripped from my nose to the white porcelain of the sink below. Quinn stepped out of the room, leaving me to fix myself up. I stared at my reflection in the mirror for a while, wondering what Viktor would say about this when I saw him the next night. Turning on the water, I washed my face carefully, making sure my skin was dry before I applied a bandage to the cut above my eye.

The attack had seemed so random, so strange. Again, I wondered if it had been some kind of setup. But why? To get me to want to go back to California sooner? If so, mission accomplished.

Inside my pocket, my phone buzzed. When I withdrew it, I saw a text from my anonymous source. After a few days of silence, I’d let myself hope that the messages might have stopped for good.

Grace and her boy toy are celebrating right now. Are you seriously going to just take it?

No. No, I wasn’t, my anonymous friend.

I shoved a wad of toilet paper in my bleeding nostril and left the room in a hurry. I was on the warpath, and I knew
exactly where I was headed. My rising adrenaline was doing its best to keep my pain under control as I moved.

On my way, I passed Caroline on the sidewalk outside the library. She looked horrified at my current condition. “What happened to you?”

I didn’t even slow my steps. My words came out in a growl. “Tea party in the garden with the queen. She plays a mean game of chess.”

She called after me, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s no big deal. Really.” I said it more to myself than to her. But it was a lie, and I knew it.

“I guess I’m glad I didn’t go to the party, huh?”

“Very funny.” She looked genuinely sorry for me, and maybe something else, too.

“Hey, Adrien? I was thinking we could work on our experiment on Sunday so we’re ready for next week. If we go to the soccer field first thing, Coach Taryn will be there with the lacrosse team, so we’d have our staff supervision.”

“Sure, Sunday at nine. Anything else?”

She could tell I was a guy on a mission.

“Nope. See you then.”

Moments later, I pulled open the door to the radio station without knocking.

Grace and Josh were on the couch, lips locked. A celebratory kiss, maybe? I didn’t care. I grabbed Josh by the collar
and pulled back my fist. When I let it loose and slammed it into his nose, my hand felt like it had snapped. Maybe I’d broken it. I had no idea. I’d never really hit anyone with a closed fist before, and I was too far beyond anger to feel much pain. Thank you, adrenaline.

Blood burst from Josh’s nose and he made a gurgling sound. Some of his blood spattered onto the front of Grace’s shirt. Pulling him closer by the collar, I growled into his dazed expression, “That’s for setting me up. And this is for screwing my sister.”

I punched him again and Josh fell to the floor in a heap.

The walk back to my room was a heated blur.

When two liquids do not form a solution with each other

It was early the next morning when Josh opened my door without knocking, but not so early that I wasn’t already up and dressed in a black tee and jeans. I sat at my desk, waiting, looking at Twitter on my phone, making note of the fact that Grace had been chatting with my attackers just the morning before, asking if they were excited about the party. Of course. Of course she had.

I knew Josh would be coming for me. Probably to kick my ass. I’d barely slept, my eyes on the door throughout the night, wondering when his retaliation would begin. I’d left the door unlocked because I wanted to prove to myself
that I wasn’t a coward. I’d felt cowardly enough lying on the ground last night, wishing my mother could magically appear and comfort me.

Beneath Josh’s eyes were purple half-moons. His nose was swollen slightly. I couldn’t tell if it was broken or not. My hand still hurt like hell.

He sat down on my bed, not saying anything for a long time. When he finally spoke, he sounded more exasperated than angry. His voice was hushed. “Why’d you hit me?”

I didn’t look up from my phone. As I gripped it tighter, my knuckles throbbed. I’d never hit anyone before, so it hadn’t really occurred to me that it might hurt my hand. As nonchalantly as I could manage, I said, “Because you set me up to get my ass beat by three Neanderthals just to get on Grace’s good side. And you screwed my sister.”

“I didn’t set you up.”

I sat the pen down and met Josh’s eyes. “But you did screw my sister.”

He ran a hand through his hair, brushing it back from his face, and as he did, I saw how swollen the bridge of his nose really was. As much as I wasn’t a fan of violence, I was pretty proud that I’d managed to do some noticeable damage my first time out. But on the heels of that pride came immense guilt. This was Josh. He’d been my best friend once. How could I have done that to him?

He took a deep breath and blew it out, meeting my eyes. “What exactly happened last night after I left the party?”

“What happened?” I raised my voice, infuriated that he would dare play dumb over something he’d obviously had a hand in. “Some girl lured me outside and then your friends took quite a pounding on me. I’m sure that made for some fantastic foreplay for you and Grace. Lead me to some party where a girl gets me alone and three guys beat the crap out of me. For what? Why, Josh? Why?”

Josh shook his head, his expression troubled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I left a note on Grace’s door asking her if we could talk at the party. She showed up, we went for a walk, and ended up in the station. She kissed me, then you came in and punched me twice, and then she went back to her room. Help me out here, Adrien. Because I’m lost.”

“I can’t trust you, Josh. I can’t trust anyone around here!” I stood, throwing my hands in the air. “How could you sleep with her, knowing what she had just done to me?”

He shook his head, standing. We were less than a foot apart. “Listen. You are being so paranoid, I’m not even sure you can, but please try to listen. You have no reason to believe me, but I had nothing to do with whatever went down at the party last night. And despite what it may have looked like, I’ve never slept with your sister.”

I jabbed my finger into his chest. “Bullshit.”

“I wanted to tell her something last night—something I thought might make her feel better about our breakup. But after I told her, she kissed me. Maybe she thought she could change my mind, I don’t know.” His tone wasn’t accusatory at all. He was just laying out what had happened. Or what he wanted me to believe had happened.

“Then why would she say before that you screwed her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because she was mad at me for breaking up with her. Maybe she knew it would bother you to think I had. Or maybe she was just embarrassed because I wouldn’t sleep with her.”

That was rich. “Right. You said you two went out all last year.”

“We did.”

“But you never slept together? Not once? In a year?”

“No.”

“You’re such a liar, Josh.”

“No, I’m not, goddammit!” His chest was rising and falling in hurried breaths. For a moment, I knew that he was going to hit me. And it was going to hurt. “I’m not lying. I’m trying to tell you something, you ass. And this isn’t at all how I wanted to tell you.”

“Tell me? Tell me what?” I readied my stance, spreading my feet slowly apart so I could keep my balance when the time for a fight came.

Josh shook his head, his cheeks flushed. “I don’t think I can, Adrien. You might never speak to me again.”

I balled my hands into fists, staring him down. “Well I definitely won’t speak to you again if you don’t just find the balls to tell me whatever you’re holding back from me!”

“Fine!” His green eyes gleamed with something that I didn’t yet understand. He reached up with his right hand, raking his fingers through my hair. Before I realized what was happening, Josh pulled me close to him, pressing his warm mouth to mine. He parted his lips, and, without thinking, as if it were the most natural reaction in the world, I slid my tongue into his mouth. For a moment that stretched on forever, we kissed, deeply, our hearts pounding together through cotton. The scruff on his chin scraped gently against mine, sending a shiver of longing down my spine. His hands slid from my hair to either side of my face, his teeth gently biting my bottom lip for a moment. He held me there, and I moved my hands to his hips, pulling him closer. I couldn’t think, didn’t want to think. I just wanted this feeling to go on forever. A small moan escaped him and his hands lifted my T-shirt up some, so that his palms were against my skin. I slowly slid my hands up his sides, over his shoulders, down his arms. My hands were on his wrists when at last we parted, ever so slowly.

I felt as if all the air had been sucked from my lungs. My
heart was racing. I didn’t know what to say. He didn’t speak, just looked into my eyes with a sad questioning. When I could breathe again, my trembling fingertips left his wrists and found my lips. I knew I had to say something, but words escaped me. Finally, with a shaking breath, I whispered, “Oh . . .”

Josh was still standing very close to me, his chest rising and falling just as quickly as mine. I wasn’t certain whether I wanted him to move away or come even closer. My head was in a fog. His eyes were locked on mine, but though there was sadness there, I saw no apology. All he said was, “Yeah . . .”

After a moment—a strange moment full of longing and fear—Josh took the initiative and stepped back. But even his distance failed to cool the air between us. His eyes shimmered slightly. “You hate me now? You must. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” The word leapt from my mouth before I could even think it, but that didn’t change the fact that I meant it. I could still taste his kiss on my lips, the scrape of his stubble on my chin as I reached for my hoodie and moved to the door. When I looked back at him, I didn’t know how to respond exactly to what had just transpired. I just knew that my heart was still racing, and that a large part of me didn’t want to walk out of that room. I didn’t even know where I was going, only that I couldn’t stay. With great reluctance, I pulled the
door open, and as I turned back to him, I said, “No, Josh. I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I just . . . I’ve gotta go.”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah . . . me too.”

Stepping into the hall was like waking from a dream. I had kissed boys before, but not like that, not in a way that made me want to go on kissing him forever. Or even progressing past that point of just lips on lips and tongues intertwined. If I’d stayed, I might have . . . we might have—no. We
would have
done more. I know we would have.

As I hurried down the hall, I wrestled with why I’d walked out. Clearly, that intimacy had been a moment we’d both wanted to share. So what was I afraid of?

I didn’t know. I didn’t know what I was afraid of, or if I was afraid of anything at all. I just knew that Josh was my best friend here (and a great kisser), that he was one of the only people even on my side at Wills (and had such broad shoulders), and that if I lost him, I didn’t know what I would do.

So I wandered the building for several minutes, catching my breath, trying not to think about how that kiss had felt, how it reverberated through my body still. I wasn’t sure where to go or what to do. I certainly didn’t want to talk to anybody about it. To be honest, I wanted to go somewhere where I could be alone and just relish the moment without fear of what that moment might have changed, or what it
might mean in the big scheme of things. I wanted to get away from here. But to where? And how?

After a while, I stopped by my mailbox at the front desk. To my surprise, an envelope was waiting there from Viktor. Inside were a second set of car keys and a note that read,
I trust you’ll repay me for the tune-up and new tires. Enjoy. —V

As I stepped outside, the cool air hit me like that first blast of air conditioning on a hot day. I looked across the parking lot and there she was. Maggie. Just when I needed her most. Viktor had an uncanny ability to provide me with precisely what I needed when I needed it, even when he had no idea that he was doing so.

I moved to her and unlocked the door, silently thanking Viktor with all my soul. I slid into the driver’s seat and rested my aching head on the steering wheel for several minutes. Then I whispered, “Now what, Maggie? Now what?”

I wasn’t just asking her where we should go, what we should do. I was asking her so much more than that—things I suspected only she would understand.

Sliding the key into the ignition, I turned it and gave her some gas. Maggie’s engine roared to life. She was loud and angry and the only one on my side. As I put her in drive, I said, “You’re right. Let’s get the hell outta here.”

I slammed my foot on the gas pedal, and Maggie’s tires spun with fury, leaving a cloud of smoke behind us as we
peeled out of the school parking lot. We didn’t know where we were going or when we would come back. We just knew that we needed to be alone. Together.

We drove for hours, sticking mostly to the back roads where Maggie could really open up and fly without worrying about cops. I stopped for gas when I had to, and avoided gravel when I could. But some of the dirt roads had curves that Maggie begged to whip around, and I could refuse her nothing. She was a badass beauty, a kickass tough girl who would take no shit and take no prisoners. And before I knew it, the sun was setting.

There was no time to head back to the dorms to clean up and change. And I wasn’t exactly in the mood to give a shit about how I looked for some stupid dinner party. Besides, it was probably better that I wasn’t going back to campus—I still needed time to think about what I was supposed to say to Josh when I saw him again.

As I pulled up to Viktor’s estate, I cursed under my breath. Several upscale cars had been parked neatly off to the side by one of two valets. The people I saw walking inside were dressed impeccably, the men in suits and even a few tuxes. Viktor was going to be pissed that I’d come in jeans and a T-shirt. Not to mention the bruises and swelling on my face.

I pulled Maggie up on the right, well away from the other
partygoers’ vehicles. As I stepped out and shut the door, one of the valet guys shouted to me, “Hey, buddy, you can’t park that here.”

“It’s okay, Andrew.” Julian stepped out onto the walkway. As usual, he was dressed in a suit, his shirt perfectly ironed, his blue tie straight as an arrow. He looked at the valet and forced a smile. “This is Mr. Dane. He’s on the guest list.”

The valet nodded to me, looking somewhat embarrassed and a little more than confused. “My apologies, sir.”

I hated when people called me sir, but I just shrugged as I stepped onto the walkway that led to the front stairs. “No big deal.”

Julian placed a well-manicured hand on my shoulder and looked me over, from my sneakers to my jeans, up to my T-shirt, and, at last, to my damaged face. He sighed with a thick air of disapproval. “What are we going to do with you, Adrien?”

“Hey, if tonight doesn’t end with me getting a black eye, I’m calling it a success.” I smirked, but Julian’s stony exterior didn’t even crack. He was pissed. I could see that much in his eyes alone—never mind the way his jaw seemed to tighten at my attempt at humor.

I started to walk around him, but he stopped me. His tone indicated he meant business. “Go in the back door and change upstairs into something more suitable. If anyone
asks about your bruises, you were in a car accident, but nothing serious. I don’t want you ruining something that Viktor worked very hard to set up.”

“Now, now, Julian. You know how Viktor feels about lying.” I looked up at the house, surprised by the formality of the evening. All I’d been told was to wear a tie. How was I supposed to know? “Quite the party. I was under the impression it was just a dinner.”

“Not just any dinner. He’s invited a lot of important people who most Wills students would kill to rub elbows with. He’s doing you an enormous favor, and you thank him by showing up looking like a homeless rat who’s just been in a bar fight.” He stepped to the side, pointing to the house with the rocks glass he was holding. The ice inside rattled a bit. “Now. Back door. As quickly and quietly as you can. There are clothes in your room. And for god’s sake, use an iron.”

There was something appealing about the idea of seeing just how far I could push Julian. But as tempted as I was to stroll in the front door dressed like I was, I knew that the sight of me would disappoint Viktor, and that I didn’t want. So I walked around the side of the house and opened the back door. I slid inside and moved through the kitchen soundlessly, then up the back stairs. After washing my face in the small bathroom connected to my room, I opened the closet door and sighed. I didn’t want to be here. Not in this
room. Not at this party. Not in this moment. But what else could I do?

Once I’d changed into a pair of black slacks and a red button-up shirt that didn’t seem
too
wrinkled, I threw on a black tie and belt and headed downstairs, hoping that Viktor would be too distracted by his many guests to take real notice of the bruises on my face.