21. VANESSA
VANESSA
Even if I hadn’t sprained my ankle, I still wouldn’t be able to walk properly.
Paris fucked me so good last night that my legs and hips hurt.
I even got a bruise, which has never happened before.
He wasn’t happy about that. I, however, don’t care one bit.
The little ache is worth all the mind-blowing orgasms he gave me.
Letting him walk out of the house this morning was hard. He looked so delicious, and one morning quickie wasn’t enough. Unfortunately, we can’t live in our bubble forever.
Paris offered me a ride to campus, but since no one is supposed to know we’re dating, I refused. Besides, with the way we can’t keep our hands off each other, we were bound to stop halfway to fuck in the back seat of his truck.
I’m showered and ready to go, but the text I sent Heather earlier asking if she’d be able to drive me went unanswered.
I’m going to be late if I don’t get moving, so I pull up the Uber app.
I hate depending on people for anything—especially my sister.
She collects favors and loves to cash in at the most inconvenient times.
I’m one second away from requesting a ride when she walks in.
I lift my face from the phone, ready to bitch about her radio silence, when I notice her expression. Her eyes are puffy and red. Heather never cries about anything, so her look could be attributed to allergies. But…
“What happened to you?” I ask.
“Nothing.” Her reply is clipped, and she doesn’t meet my stare.
Hell, maybe she’s upset. She continues toward her room, still avoiding eye contact.
“Did you and Leo have a fight?”
She stops and looks over her shoulder. “No. Stop being so nosy.”
I sigh. “Fine. Don’t tell me. Can you give me a ride to school, or should I call an Uber?”
She turns to me, putting her hands on her hips. “Why can’t your boyfriend drive you?”
“Because we don’t want people to know we’re dating. Did we not have this conversation already?”
She purses her lips before replying. “What time do you have to be on campus?”
“In half an hour.”
“Yeah, whatever, I’ll drive you. I just need a quick shower.” She disappears down the hallway, leaving me perplexed. Since when can Heather get ready in less than half an hour?
I should tell her I’ll request a car, but now I’m curious about what’s going on with her. And a little concerned.
A ping on my phone alerts me to an incoming message. It’s Paris, saying he misses me already. A broad smile blossoms on my lips, but it’s erased just as quickly when another message pops up, this one from Ryan, asking if we can grab lunch today.
My blood runs cold from just thinking about the idea of spending any time with the asshole. But then rage erupts in the pit of my stomach, leaving me shaking. How dare he contact me? I type back furiously.
ME: Not in this lifetime, or next.
When I see the three dots appear, my stomach twists into knots, making me queasy.
I block him before he can send his message through.
Then I set the phone on the counter, and I fucking lose it.
Tears roll down my cheeks, and I can’t stop the flood.
I didn’t react this poorly when I bumped into him, so why does a simple text have this effect on me?
“Vanessa? Why are you crying?” Heather asks as she comes into the kitchen.
Shit. I so didn’t want her to see me like this.
I wipe the moisture off my face. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit. You wouldn’t be bawling your eyes out like that for no reason. Did something happen with Paris? Did he dump you?”
“What?” I squeak. “No. Why would you say that?”
“Because I can’t think of any other bad news that would put you in that pitiful state.”
I open my mouth to offer an angry retort, but she’s not wrong. If Paris dumped me, I’d be devastated. Which is crazy because, until we’re out in the open, I don’t feel like I’m his girlfriend. That thought makes me sad. In a strange way, it distracts me from the reason I was crying.
“Well, you’re wrong.”
She crosses her arms and gives me the I’m going to beat the truth out of you no matter what look. “Then what happened?”
I was determined to keep Ryan’s assault a secret, but maybe my reaction has to do with the fact that no one save Paris knows.
I don’t want to tell any of my friends on the team, because I feel ashamed that it happened.
I’m their captain—I’m supposed to be their role model, the strongest Raven.
I definitely don’t want to be reminded that Paris witnessed the whole thing.
It’s a source of immense mortification for me.
I know it’s crazy to think like that. Why am I embarrassed about something that was done to me? What a great psychologist I’ll be one day. That weasel Ryan is the one who should be ashamed. Instead, he’s walking around campus with the same arrogant air. He’s texting me as if nothing happened.
“Ryan tried to rape me after I broke up with him,” I blurt out.
Heather stands there like a statue for a couple of beats. No blinking, no widening of her eyes, no reaction whatsoever. It’s no wonder her nickname since high school is Ice Queen.
“When?” she asks finally.
“The day before Lorena’s wedding.”
Her eyebrows furrow. “That’s when Paris came over.”
Unable to withstand her detached stare, I look away. “Yeah. He stopped Ryan. Would have beat the shit out of him if I hadn’t intervened.”
“Why?” Her voice rises an octave.
“Why what?”
“Why did you stop Paris?”
“Because I didn’t want him to get in trouble because of that asshole. He wanted to kill Ryan.”
“And with reason!” She throws her hands in the air. “I think I’d have killed him myself.”
Her admission shocks me. “You would?”
“Why are you surprised? In fact, I’m curious why you didn’t rip Ryan’s nut sack off yourself.”
I blink as I process her words. “No ripping, but I kicked him there. Hard.”
“That’s something. Did you report him to the police?”
My shoulders sag as I let out a heavy sigh. I shake my head. “I don’t want to be known as the girl who was almost raped by her boyfriend.”
Glowering, Heather puts her hands on her hips. “You’d rather let a rapist walk free so he can do the same to another girl? Most likely there won’t be a Paris around to save them.”
Hell. Heather is making feel like shit. No wonder I didn’t want to tell anyone.
“I wasn’t thinking about anyone but myself, okay? Yes, that makes me selfish, but fuck, I was just trying to survive,” I retort angrily.
“Survive?” Her eyebrows arch. “You’ve been acting like nothing happened, happy as can be with your new boyfriend.”
“Who are you to judge me? You have no idea what was like for me, how hard it still is. Until you’ve been in my shoes—”
“I’ve been in your shoes!” she yells, turning red and sounding out of breath.
My heart skips a beat and then jams hard against my ribcage. “What?”
Her eyes widen as she realizes she blurted out a confession she probably didn’t mean to. “Never mind.” She begins to turn, but I jump off my high stool and grab her arm.
“Heather.” I take a deep breath and loosen my hold. “When were you assaulted?”
She won’t look at me, but I can feel her arm tremble.
“It happened a long time ago. It doesn’t matter now.”
My stomach coils tightly, making me want to hurl. “How long ago?” I whisper.
“Freshman year of high school.” She wipes the corners of her eyes.
I release her arm then and stand in front of her. “Who?”
She finally meets my stare. “I don’t know.
I went to a party, and someone spiked my drink.
I woke up alone in a strange bed, my underwear was gone, and there were bloodstains on my inner thighs.
So you see, I couldn’t bring the asshole who raped me to justice, because I don’t know who he was.
But you can make sure Ryan never pulls that shit again, and you’re choosing to let him walk free. ”
I’m crying again as my heart shatters in a million pieces. “You never told anyone what happened?”
“I told Mom, and she urged me to keep it a secret. You know, for the same bullshit reason you just gave me. She didn’t want me to carry the stigma of being a rape victim like it was a scarlet letter.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I feel like an idiot for saying that. Ryan didn’t succeed, and he still made me feel dirty and unworthy. Heather was actually violated, and all I have to say to her is sorry .
“Yeah, me too. You know what, I think you should call that Uber after all.” She veers toward the hallway.
“I don’t need to go. I can stay with you.”
“No. You’re the last person I want around me right now.”
Her comment feels like a punch to my chest. I want to curl into a ball and cry some more. But I have to respect Heather’s wish to be alone. She gave me the house so I could spend time with Paris. The least I can do is offer her the same courtesy.