The Hit List (26 page)

I don’t even know what I’m going to say to him. An explanation for the picture might be too much for me to handle. And what’s the point of it anyway? I don’t want to hear about what a good kisser Noelle is.

In the minute it takes me to walk to Luke’s room, I only gain steam. Everything he’s done keeps replaying in my mind. All the lies he’s told me about flirting and whether or not he’s playing the game.

I pound three times on the door. “Luke!” I yell. “Open the Goddamn door.”

Nathan, Luke’s roommate, answers the door. He’s wearing sweatpants and nothing else. My eyes skim down his toned body as my breath hitches. His pants sit low on his hips, exposing his stomach and leaving little to the imagination. He crosses his arms over his chest and grins at me.

“Sadie, what a pleasant surprise. I knew you’d come around.”

He doesn’t look surprised. He looks at me like I’m a cupcake and at any minute he’ll start licking off the frosting.

I smile up at Nathan, grab his arm and pull him out into the hallway. He smiles back. I don’t like the way he smiles at me, but it’s the only way I can get him in the position to do what I want. I push him out of my way, dart inside the door, and close and lock it behind me. If Brielle can do it, why can’t I?

“What the fuck?” he yells from the hallway, pounding on the closed door.

“Asshole,” I mumble.

Spinning around, I see Luke, eyes wide and headphones in hand, looking completely clueless as to what just happened. He’s missing his shirt and it takes a second for my brain to unjumble. I was mad. I know I was. But seeing him without a shirt kills my anger.

“You have no right to be mad at me. I didn’t do anything wrong.” I take deep breaths, trying to calm down.

He stares at me. “Did you just lock Nathan out of the room?”

“Nathan’s an ass.” And so not the issue right now.

“That doesn’t mean you can kick him out of his room.”

“Why did you ask me out? Clearly being an exception to you doesn’t mean the same to you as it does to me. And then I get this picture of you and Noelle kissing? What the hell, Luke? You keep telling me you’re not playing that game, but it sure as hell looks like it. You flirt with anything in a skirt. You’re with a different girl every time I turn around. You’re going to have to get a lot better at convincing me because from where I sit, there’s no other explanation other than The Hit List.”

He sets his headphones down on his desk. “Back up. What picture?”

“I don’t know. The one that someone texted me. It looked pretty unforgettable.” I pull the picture up on my phone and wave it in front of his face. I’m annoyed that out of everything, he’s focusing on the picture. He didn’t even try to deny that he was playing the game.

“I’m sorry you saw that.”

My mouth drops open. Seriously? That’s all he has to say? “You’re joking, right? That’s all you’re going to say?”

He glares at me and crosses his hands over his chest. “You’re not going to listen to anything I tell you, so why does it matter?”

He might have a point, but that doesn’t change the fact that I want to hear his explanation. Because it might make me feel better to hear from him that the picture isn’t real or that it’s not what it looks like.

“I need something more than that, Luke. Anything.”

His tone turns angry. “How about this? I put myself out there for you. I asked you out. And now suddenly you’re backing off because you’re scared. What if something did happen in that picture? We weren’t exclusive. Fuck, Sadie, we’ve never even been on a date.”

I cling to the only thing I have. Because I am scared. I’m terrified. But I refuse to tell him that.

“What about Avila? You can tell yourself that it wasn’t a date, but it was…”

How can he tell me Avila didn’t mean anything?

“We can’t do this anymore. I’m your partner and your friend. Nothing more than that.” His voice is quieter.

“Then why did you ask me out? Friends don’t ask friends out unless they’re interested in becoming more.”

He’s shutting me out and my efforts to keep him with me are failing. I was scared when I shut him out earlier, but this alternative that he’s creating is so much worse. I’d rather risk my heart than feel like he doesn’t want me.

He stares at the floor. “It was a mistake.”

“I don’t believe you.” I glare at him, daring him to lie to me again.

He runs his hands through his hair. “We can’t be more than partners. I won’t be the reason you give up on your dreams. Not like Patrick.”

“Don’t ever think you have that much power over me.”

I focus on my breathing, calming myself and waiting for him to speak. But he’s silent and when I open my eyes, he’s pacing a couple feet away from me. And in that moment, I want him to hurt. I want him to feel everything he’s made me feel. Because it’s not fair. None of this is fair.

So I hit him where I know it’ll hurt the most.

“I can’t believe I ever trusted you. You’ve done nothing but string me along, making me care about you. But how can anyone ever really care about you? No one knows the real you. All you do is push people away. I feel sorry for you.”

A sob breaks in my chest and the tears I’ve been trying to hold in fall freely down my cheeks.

“You’re absolutely right.” His face is completely blank.

I want to shove him, slap him, kiss him. Anything to get some kind of reaction. But all he does is stare back at me, his face void of any emotion. Even anger is better than what he’s giving me. How can he feel nothing right now?

I step toward the door. I need to get away from the suffocating walls of this room. I open the door, but his words pull me back.

“I’m sorry, Sadie.”

I don’t look back at him. I don’t want to see how not sorry his face looks.

I’m so done with Luke. He doesn’t give a shit about me so why should I give a shit about him?

“Yeah, so am I.”

THE HIT LIST UPDATE

October 28

I know you’re here for an update, but I want to take the time to address what happened in Texas. The sexual assault against that girl would never have happened if the rules had been enforced. It’s because of dumbasses like the one who took over during my hiatus and others who start up whole new games in completely different states that things like this happen.

So don’t do it.

Please remember that all acts MUST be consensual between ALL PARTIES involved. Respect each other. This is not a game to determine how many girls you can force to have sex with you. IT IS 100% CONSENSUAL AT ALL TIMES.

Now that that’s out of the way, here are this week’s numbers:

It’s still anyone’s game and our top girl is still up for grabs. Get on that. Happy hitting!

~ THE HIT MAN

17

Class is hard today. My hip limits my range of flexibility. The only good thing is that I’m not with Luke right now.

The general mood of the students has declined rapidly in the past few weeks. Or the general mood of the girls. A lot of them seem depressed or angry. There are more fights about petty things like barre space and water bottles. The ones who used to be friendly toward me and smile in greeting every day stopped a long time ago.

Miss Clara calls class a little early. “You guys did a great job today. See you tomorrow.”

I sit down on the floor and pull off my shoes, shoving them into my bag. A senior I’ve never talked to walks up beside me.

“Sadie, right? I’m Mark.”

“Hey.” I stand and walk out into the hallway, in a hurry to get to my next class. But Mark follows me.

“I was wondering if maybe you’d want to get together and rehearse sometime. This is my last year here and I can probably give you a lot of tips that’ll help you out over the next few years.”

It’d be easier to take him seriously if he wasn’t staring at my boobs the entire time he talks. I’m so over this game. It needs to disappear. “I’m going to have to pass. But thanks for the offer.”

I reach for the door handle, but he opens the door for me, holding it until I walk through, and then jogs to catch up with me again.

“You really are a great dancer. Who have you studied with?”

At least he’s not asking me to dinner, but I still don’t want anything to do with him. I stop. I don’t have time to chat because I’m going to be late for rehearsal.

He stands too close for comfort, and touches my elbow briefly before his hand drops to my butt. “You have a really nice body.”

It seems like since news of the rape in Texas broke, the guys here have gotten worse in their advances. The lines are blurring. And that’s not okay.

Brielle shoves him away from me. “Excuse you, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Did she ask you to touch her like that?”

Mark hits her arm away. “Nobody asked you, Brielle. What are you, her bodyguard or something?”

“No, I’m her friend. And even if she did agree to go out with you, I’d make sure she stood you up because you’re a sexist pig.” Brielle positions herself between him and me and shoos him away with a gesture of her hands. “Are you dense? Go away.”

She watches him walk down the hallway before she turns to me. She tries to keep a straight face, but when I smile, she does, too.

“Seriously. The boys in this school need to learn to take a hint.” She bumps her hip against mine and smiles.

“Agreed.”

“I’ll see you after rehearsal.” She walks down the hallway toward another studio.

I walk toward my own studio, ready to start another hour of rehearsal. I pass a crumpled up piece of paper lying in the middle of the hall, no more than three feet away from a garbage can. The familiar handwriting makes me stop and pick it up.

Carefully, I unfold the delicate paper to reveal the writing. Luke’s handwriting stares back at me with notes about our duet. He’d taken these one of the first days with Miss Tasha. We don’t even rehearse this one any more.

Printing on the other side of the page catches my eye and I flip it over. I only have to see the first line to know what it is. The sickening words glare at me from the page.

Welcome to The Hit List: a game of sexual conquest.

The paper only confirms what he has yet to deny. He’s been playing along since the very beginning, since the first day he met me. He’s been trying to get points for me since then, and he hasn’t stopped since our recent blowup.

I walk through the door to the studio, the paper still in my hand. I shove it into my bag and sit down to stretch before rehearsal starts.

Miss Tasha walks into the studio, Luke following close behind her.

“Since we’ve lost our assistant to a bar fight,” Miss Tasha looks pointedly at Luke, “I expect perfection from you both. I don’t have time to put up with your shit.”

Rehearsal is long. We warm up and spend the next three hours running the different dances we’ve learned. Miss Tasha hasn’t decided which one she’d rather see us do for Fall Showcase. But she’s made sure to tell us that none of them are ready.

Every time Luke touches me, I flinch. I don’t want him anywhere near me. He has his own issues getting close to me. It’s like he’s afraid to touch me. Probably because he can sense my anger and knows I want to trip him.

I’m grateful when it’s over. I can’t take the silence from Luke any longer. Miss Tasha is easier to put up with when Luke banters with her, but there hasn’t been any of that today.

“Okay, guys. Thanks for your effort today. Let’s see if we can do better tomorrow.” Miss Tasha sounds like she’s already made peace with the fact that we aren’t going to do well at Fall Showcase.

She leaves and Luke sits down in front of his bag, packing up his stuff.

I pull the folded piece of paper out of my bag before I have too much time to think about it and drop it in front of him as I walk past.

“What’s that?” he asks, picking it up.

I stop when I’m closer to the door than to him.

I shrug. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

It’s now or never, Luke. Time to either seal my trust or break it forever.

His eyes narrow fractionally as he unfolds the page. “Where did you get this?”

“Does it really matter?” I roll my eyes at his confused expression. “I found it on the floor in the hallway on my way to the studio. Why does it have your writing on it?”

His eyes widen, finally understanding what I’m getting at. “I printed this a while ago to show to my mom. I guess I forgot about it. It must have fallen out of my bag.”

I search his face for any sign that he’s lying to me, but I come up empty. My heart flutters in relief. I know he’s told me before that he wasn’t involved, but confronting him with concrete evidence makes me feel better. He wouldn’t lie about it right to my face when I’m holding proof, right?