Chapter 14 #2
There’s nothing I can say for her to understand. I shake my head. “Just behave,” I warn before walking back into the living where I left Weston. He’s still in the same spot I left him, looking slightly awkward. He arches his brow when our eyes meet and guilt makes my face flush.
“Sorry,” I mouth. I really am a terrible host. He winks and butterflies erupt in my stomach and I’m nearly speechless, fighting for my life trying to think of what to say now.
He looks over his shoulder at the door and I realize he’s right.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Summer can take me to get my car if you need to leave.”
He looks as disappointed as I feel, or maybe that’s wishful thinking. It would have been nice to spend more time with him. Even nicer if the other guys were here too. I never did ask how their trip was going. It’s strange to see them separated. Especially for so long.
Weston nods, and his lips curl up in the slightest way.
So small and so quickly that if you blink, you’ll miss it.
I already miss the easy camaraderie we had when it was the two of us.
I love Summer and she is staying quiet behind us—thank god—but Weston isn’t comfortable around her.
There was no chance of him sticking around with her here now.
Even when it was all of us at the haunted house, he barely said a handful of words.
His gaze darted toward her every time, making his unease rise.
Maybe one day he’ll be comfortable around her too.
“I’ll walk you out,” I tell him and guide him to the door, motioning behind my back for Summer to stay where she is. “Thank you for coming, Weston,” I say softly as we reach the door.
This time, I get his full smile. The one that makes my heart race and mind go a little slow. I think he knows what it does to me, cause it grows wider the longer he watches me. He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and it almost feels like he might kiss me.
We had plenty of moments yesterday too where I thought just maybe. But each time the tension bloomed around us and I held my breath, he pulled away.
Weston’s hand falls from my cheek and his grin slips a bit. “I’ll see you later?” he asks, stepping away.
It’s physically painful to stop myself from sighing, or throwing myself at him, but he’s right to walk away. It would only be borrowing trouble to get involved. How could I when I have been crushing on not one, but both of his brothers? The only family he has left.
I would be a terrible person to expect more.
I nod and give him my best smile. He can tell there’s something off about it, but just when I think he might actually push, he walks away.
Weston doesn’t push, he’s always going to accept exactly what you give him, because if there’s anything I’ve learned about him, it’s that he hates to be pushed in any kind of way.
Summer waits in my living room, sprawled across my couch with her feet kicked up on my coffee table. Grabbing the coffee, Weston brought me, I plop down beside her.
“You have so much to fill me in on,” she accuses. It makes me giggle, but then I do launch into everything that happened the day before. Recounting what happened with Professor Richards makes a shudder race down my spine.
Definitely why the nightmare was so horrific last night.
The whole thing still feels odd, and I keep coming back to it. It’s shocking how okay I feel today.
“Are you going to report it?” Summer asks in disbelief after cursing and raging about what a prick he is.
The only answer I have is to shrug. Would anything really happen? Would it change anything? The guy was absolutely being a creep, and the insinuations were clear, but it was only me and him in that office.
No cameras, no witnesses, all the plausible deniability in the world.
“Would anyone even believe me?” I can’t help but ask her.
Her hesitation is the only answer I need and we both know it. “He could deny it all or say I misconstrued his words.”
Summer groans. “He touched you.”
I nod, he did. But it never got to the point of assault. There are no marks left behind. No way to tell he caressed my arms and twined my hair through his fingers. Even if he did admit to those things, couldn’t he claim he was pulling something free of my hair or trying to comfort me?
“What if he tries again?” she presses, but I don’t have an answer for her.
That question haunted me last night as I tossed and turned in bed.
It kept me up for far longer than I wanted to be last night.
I wasn’t even able to create any art because every time I sat down and tried, images flashed through my mind about how the situation could have escalated. How it has in the past.
“Neither one of us goes to any meetings alone with him?” I offer up the only suggestion I have.
She sighs, falling back onto the couch next to me and becoming one with the cushions. “It isn’t fair.”
I pat her knee in silent agreement, but we’re both far more realistic than thinking reporting it would really do us any good. We’re both silent for a moment, lost in our own thoughts about the situation.
“You think he’s done it before?” she asks and I don’t have to wonder before I’m nodding my head.
He was far too comfortable soliciting me for it to have been the first time.
He hardly even blinked when someone interrupted us.
As if he knew he would never be in any real danger of losing his position.
“If I had to guess,” I explain, “he’s done it a lot. Maybe even every year. I also have a feeling it’s been reported before and swept under the rug.” Why else would he be so calm when we were almost caught in a compromising position? What else would possibly give him the confidence?
Summer is silent for a few more moments and I can see her mind working in overdrive. She is never going to want to let this go. I wish I was strong like her, but even in moments where I’m not drowning in fear, fighting authority is a hard concept to wrap my head around.
It’s only ever made things worse. Made my life harder. Running away has always been the only real thing to ever bring me some semblance of peace. Even if it’s fragile and breaks any time I have to return home.
“We could look into it,” she offers quietly. “See if we can find others.”
I don’t want to be weak. Don’t want to accept the pain people put me through.
Maybe I can fight back. I did with the stalkers, right?
Swore I wasn’t going to go quietly into the night with them.
It was almost fun—thrilling—to stand up for myself.
To make the report and try to protect myself. To know I did everything right.
Why can’t I have the same attitude about my professor? About my father?
Fear and panic grip me at the thought and my body freezes in place. Summer’s warm presence is immediately at my side, her hand running soothing caresses across my back.
Right. One thing at a time. Professor Richards first.
“Could there be a record of other internship winners?” I ask, pushing the terror back down into a tight ball where I can no longer feel it.
She nods. “I’m sure with some digging we can start a list.”
It’s scary, this thought of fighting back, but it’s also exhilarating.
Maybe I have more to thank my stalker for than just the gifts.
Who would have thought the twisted games we played would have given me the confidence to fight back once more?
Against a much more terrifying opponent. At least to me, anyway.
“Now, tell me more about Weston,” she says with a nearly feral grin. At least recalling the pumpkin patch is a much more fun conversation. It breaks the heavy tension in the room that was beginning to weigh down on me.
Summer oos and ahs in all the right places until we’re both giggling like we’re little girls again. “I can’t believe he didn’t kiss you,” she laments when we get to the end.
“I don’t know,” I sigh. “Maybe it wasn’t like that for him.”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “What guy would do all that and come back in the morning—with coffee, mind you—and it not be because he’s interested?”
“A nice one?”
Her snort is so loud and full of disbelief that it actually startles me. “Please, there’s no such thing.”
I can’t help but laugh at my jaded friend. She has every reason to be the way she is, but the guys have always been nice to me. Gone out of their way to be kind and never expected anything in return. They don’t even really flirt. Okay, maybe Jude does. But I think that’s his personality.
“You know I’m right,” she grumbles. “Those brothers—all three of them—they want you. I saw the way they looked at you.”
Okay, now she’s being delusional. I roll my eyes at her and she slaps my knee.
“You might not see it, but I do,” she argues.
“And then what?” I ask. “Even if you’re right–especially if you’re right–nothing is going to happen. Why would they risk hurting each other?”
Her grin turns wicked. “We just have to introduce them to our favorite genre.”
My face heats and I throw a pillow at her. “Get out of here.” Even the thought of bringing up the topic of why-choose to them is horrifying. I’d never be able to face them again.
“Just give them a book rec. Oo like Blue Ivy Prep by Heather Long, they’re brothers in that one.” Summer is getting too excited and is absolutely about to go off the rails if I allow this to continue.
Shoving the pillow in her face, I damn near suffocate her to get her to stop her tangent about them all fucking me together.
Words I will never be able to unhear. Words I know are going to be buzzing in my ear the entire time I see the guys next.
It’s going to lead to an unfortunate amount of embarrassing moments for me, I know it.
“Change of subject,” I yell and finally release her from my pillow of silence.