The Rush (14 page)

             
“I want her for me. I want her in my collection,” Nix explained as if this were typical dinner conversation, as if my world hadn’t come crashing down around me at his words, as if I could still breathe.

             
My mother looked over the table at me, beaming with pride. Her green eyes sparkled and her shoulders bounced a little relishing the news. I realized too late that she was never defensive of Nix’s opinion of me, her pride had been wounded. She was soaring now, what with a daughter handpicked for Nix’s
personal collection
, how could she not be? This was what every mother wanted, what every mother dreamed of her daughter becoming….

             
But what about the daughters? What about what
they
wanted?

             
And my heart stopped beating. I stopped living. I stopped existing.

             
“Nix, I had no idea Ivy had made such an impression on you,” my mother gloated.

             
“When?” I croaked. The word tumbled from my lips in a hoarse, desperate plea for time.

             
“When you would have come to me anyway,” Nix explained, his eyes drinking me in with calculating indifference. He wasn’t happy with my reaction, with how my face had paled, and my hands gripped the table to keep myself from falling out of my seat. But this was the best I could give him; this was my last desperate attempt from falling apart. “I won’t ask you to leave your mother just yet. But you will be mine, Ivy.”

             
His words sunk into my skin like deathly sharp daggers, cutting and slicing open every vestige of hope I held. I bled despair and anguish from every pore, and cried invisible tears of defeat. Eighteen was more important now than ever, but never more unattainable.

             
The dinner continued on without me present, at least intellectually. Nix and my mother moved onto different, less life-changing topics. But I remained in the soul-wrenching limbo of suffocating hopelessness.

             
There was no point to breathing anymore. There was no need for air.

Chapter Eleven

You will be mine, Ivy. You will be mine. You will be mine. You will be mine.

“Hey are you, Ok? Ivy, are you Ok?”
Kenna’s voice cut through the memory of last night and shook me into the present.

Breath.

One full breath.

             
“Um, yeah, I’m fine,” I smiled at her, hoping I looked fine. Obviously I didn’t, but to be fair, she caught me in the middle of reliving the worst nightmare of my life. And I had lived a lifetime of nightmares. “I was just thinking about something.”

             
She smiled back, but I could tell she didn’t really believe me. I relied on our acquaintance-only-status to keep her from prying further and with one more fortifying breath I turned my attention back to Chase as he inhaled his pizza. I reached over and stole a pepperoni before he could consume everything on his plate and then ignored the instinct to lick his plate clean for him.

             
“I tried to share with you,” Chase scolded. He wiped his hands on a napkin and gave my lonely orange and bottle of water a depressed once over. “That is so not enough food for lunch.”

             
“It’s plenty,” I argued, savoring the taste of the greasy pepperoni on my tongue. “I’m just not a big eater,” I explained. I wasn’t a big eater, but not by choice. It was part of the rules I lived with. I wanted to be a big eater. I wanted to weigh four hundred pounds and eat ice cream all day long and drink soda by the two-liter.

             
I wanted to wear elastic pants.

             
Chase made a noncommittal grunt that sounded like he didn’t really believe me either. I ignored him and dug into the orange in front of me, my fingernails sinking into the soft flesh causing juice to squirt out everywhere, speckling my hands with sticky spray.

             
“So who’s coming tomorrow night?” Phoenix asked by way of greeting. He sat down directly across from me, flashing a goofy grin and waggling his eyebrows. “Ivy, you in?”

             
“Yeah, I’m in,” I grinned back, and nudged Chase with my elbow. “Chase invited me.”

             
“Nice,” Phoenix’s smile grew bigger and he reached out with his gangly arms to steal my water bottle and take a drink. Apparently our lunch table was more like a communal buffet.

             
“Wait, is this the first date?” Ryder asked, squeezing in between Phoenix and Kenna. He threw his arm around Kenna and placed a quick kiss against her neck before waiting for the answer. I watched them helplessly, feeling something hollow and open in my heart but not understanding it.

             
Kenna giggled loudly and then wiggled out of Ryder’s arm so that she could finish her lunch. She really was pretty, even today when she wasn’t really trying. Her stick straight hair was thrown up into a messy bun, but it was so straight that it fell limply on top of her head. She was wearing a simple v-neck t-shirt and tight jeans with a loose scarf around her neck, but she was still eye-catching, still beautiful.

             
I found myself jealous for a moment. Not because I didn’t think I was pretty, I knew I was. But each one of my outfits had to meet the approval of my mother and anything less than perfectly styled hair was completely out of the question. Even the ballet flats I wore today with skinny jeans took hours of convincing and negotiating. My mother was under the impression that unless I was in at least four inch stilettos I just wasn’t trying.

             
I tore my eyes of Kenna to stare at Chase, expecting him to answer Ryder’s question. He was blushing just barely, his cheeks pinkened and his eyes averting me completely.

“This is the first date,” I acknowledged, saving Chase from having to answer.
“F for effort,” Ryder goaded. “Don’t get too attached to that one, if the best he can come up

with
is a lame-ass party at Bates’ house.”

             
“It’s my fault,” I felt the unexplainable need to defend Chase from Ryder’s judgment. “I’m busy tonight and he had already promised Phoenix he would go.”

             
Ryder gave me a skeptical look and I wasn’t exactly sure what it was for, but Chase jumped in and saved me from asking. “Like you’re any better Sutton. You’re taking Kenna to the party, yeah?”

             
“Yeah,” Ryder agreed. “But tonight I have big plans.”

             
“Oh yeah?” Kenna nudged Ryder with her elbow gently. “What kind of plans?”

             
“Big ones,” Ryder smirked at her, and the innuendo was clear.

             
I felt my cheeks get warm and I had to avoid any eye contact at the table while everyone snickered and laughed around me. I didn’t know why I felt so embarrassed by Ryder’s comments; it wasn’t like my life was protected from sex, or sex-related activities. In fact, it was more inundated with them than anything. But I didn’t like to think about whatever Ryder had planned for Kenna tonight. For whatever reason those thoughts made me extremely uncomfortable.

             
“Hey,” Chase lowered his voice and leaned into me. “We don’t have to go to the party. We can always do our own thing.”

             
“No you can’t,” Phoenix jumped in, shaking his head and giving Chase a stern look. “No you can’t do your own thing. Ivy’s never been to one of my parties. They are seriously epic. There will be no ditching my party.” This was the most serious I had ever seen Phoenix, and he was still glaring at Chase.

             
“Geez, eavesdrop much?” Chase complained, shaking his head at his friend. “And you can’t peer pressure Ivy into going, she makes her own decisions.”

             
“Very true,” I laughed at the two of them going back and forth. And it was true. I was completely immune to peer pressure. Parental pressure was a whole different category however and in my case, so, so much worse. “Don’t worry, Phoenix, we’ll be there.” I turned to Chase and smiled at him. “I don’t want to disappoint him, he seems so pathetic.”

             
Chase just shook his head. “How do you always get your way, man?”

             
“Boyish good looks and infinite charm,” Phoenix offered seriously. “Oh and my parents have good weed.”

             
I let that sink in for a minute before declaring, “Nope, sorry, so not into recreational drugs.” I shook my head, my auburn hair whipping around my face, hammering in my point. I didn’t know what made my confession so absolutely vital, so important that I needed to say it out loud with loads of conviction. But I had to assume it had something to do with Kenna presuming my drink the other night was vodka. I had a reputation, and I couldn’t stop the rumors, but this group of people was different than anyone I had ever hung out with before. They were better…. more wholesome or something. And I felt myself wanting to prove my virtue. Which was totally lame….

             
“Oh, no worries,” Phoenix threw out immediately. “The weed is just there, I mean available. Personally, I never do it either, but my parents leave it where all my friends can find it. They think that makes them cool parents. I think it makes them irresponsible, but what can you do?”

             
“I don’t believe you,” a snide voice called from down the table. I lifted my eyes to meet the same girl that was mean to me before. I couldn’t remember her name. Initially I thought she was accusing Phoenix of lying, but by her pinched, hateful face I had to assume her statement was directed at me. “I’ve heard you’re into
everything
,” she continued, letting her ambiguous innuendo slide over every one of her words.

             
“She doesn’t do drugs
anymore
. Rehab, duh, Amber,” another voice from down the table scolded but with a fair amount of amusement in his annoying voice.

             
Hayden. Ugh.

             
“Oh that’s right,” Amber laughed like a hyena at my expense. Her chin length hair bobbed around her face and got stuck to her overly lacquered lips. Her eyes glinted maliciously at me.

             
That wasn’t the reason I didn’t do drugs. I would never do drugs. Ever. But those were reasons I had to keep private, reasons I couldn’t even admit to myself out loud. Plus, I still had to perpetuate the whole rehab lie anyway. In only three days, I had almost completely forgotten that I was supposed to be a recovering addict. That was one lie that was going to be hard to keep straight. Goodbye wholesome. Hello nasty rumors.

             
“Yep, the twelve steps and all,” I mumbled half-heartedly. I didn’t even know what the twelve steps were in truth. I knew they involved forgiveness, but that was the only one I could come up with. I should have probably googled the rest for obnoxious moments just like this.

             
“What does that even mean?” Ryder asked in an amused tone, drawing my attention back to our smaller group.

             
“Come on, don’t be a douche too,” Chase pleaded, saving me from answering. It was a good thing too, since I had no idea what I meant by that and I should have known better than to think Ryder wouldn’t call me out on my crap. “Are you alright?” Chase looked down at me and I felt enveloped in his protective care. His hand slipped to my lower back and I instantly felt better in his bubble of white-knighthood. It was really nice to have someone stick up for me, to say something on my behalf. Even if he was a victim in all of this too.

             
“I’m not trying to be a douche,” Ryder said a little bit softer and he drew my attention back to him. I met his gaze from across the table and couldn’t help but fall just a little bit into his silver depths. “Sorry, Ivy. I wasn’t trying to pick on you.” He held me motionless from where he sat; I was more than a little bit paralyzed by the look of sincerity in his eyes. I could see that he felt bad for calling me out, but that was it. There was nothing else there, no hidden desire, no blatant interest, just apology. He was completely immune to me and suddenly every single one of my thoughts was wrapped up in Ryder Sutton and how the hell he could resist me.

             
“Hey, it’s fine,” I shook my head, breaking our stare down and searching for anything else to look at. Chase’s hand warmed my back, setting of anxious feelings of guilt and embarrassment for letting myself get so sucked into the vortex of Ryder’s self-control. I settled my gaze on one of my orange peels and began shredding it between my fingers, shrinking a little from these unfamiliar emotions.

“Sam
Evans doesn’t think it’s
fine
,” Amber half shouted from across the table.

My head snapped up with her accusation. Instantaneously I was consumed with every negative, hateful emotion possible. “Shut your filthy mouth,” I growled, not caring that there was a captive audience surrounding me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Don’t you ever say his name again with that much
disrespect.”