Jolie
Okay, so I’m mildly freaking out as I trail Ben down the stairs.
He’s holding my hand and I’m gripping that thing like a lifeline, adjusting his massive hoodie, which is a dress on me.
I didn’t even need to put my pants back on, and it’s so obvious what we’ve been up to in his room, but he said no one will mind.
Something about “no judgment” and “just relax.”
Relax? Yeah, right.
The last time I saw half of these people, I was being told to leave them alone.
And now I’m dating one of them and—
“Hey, guys.” Ben draws their attention when we step into the kitchen area.
It’s all open plan, the kitchen blending into the dining room that then morphs into a living area with the… Oh my gosh, that’s the biggest TV I’ve ever seen.
I gape at it, probably because it’s safer to look that way than have to make eye contact with these tall, completely intimidating basketball players.
They’re currently gathered around the main island, making bowls of cereal and talking loudly. Two of them are arguing about some girl from Offside. It’s friendly, competitive banter.
“She would have gone home with me, dude. She was eyeing me up like candy.”
“Yet she didn’t go home with either of you.” Charli steps between them with a pointed look. “So get over yourselves.”
“I still say she wanted me more than you.” The taller guy smirks while Mr. Wild Curls shakes his head and tells him he’s delusional.
“Hey, guys!” Ben tries again, a little louder this time. “I want to introduce you to my girlfriend, Jolie.”
There’s a thick, horrible beat of silence, and as soon as all eyes are on me, I squeeze mine shut, resting my cheek against Ben’s shoulder and facing away from them.
Ben softly snickers and hitches his shoulder, squeezing my hand and trying to get me to look at everyone.
“She’s kind of nervous to meet you, because she’s under the false impression that you all hate her.”
“What?” Sawyer balks. “Why would we hate your girl?”
“Because she said shitty stuff about us when she was trying to interview us for that article.” Darian scoffs. “Don’t you recognize her face?”
“I can’t even see her face right now,” Sawyer argues.
Ben squeezes my hand again, softly murmuring, “Don’t be scared.”
I swallow, willing myself to look up already.
“But then she wrote that kick-ass article that made you guys sound awesome, even though only one of you was smart enough to let her interview you.” Charli snorts. “Guys are such dumbasses.”
Her words make me giggle, and I pop my head up to grin at her. She winks at me, and then I glance around the room.
“Yeah, well… I have to admit, you’re a good writer.” Darian smirks at me, his brown eyes playful.
“Yeah, you’re all right.” Sawyer raises his chin, and I give him a shy smile.
Jimmy just kind of stares at me for a minute, and Mac is eyeing me up with a quiet smirk that is… kind of unnerving, actually.
“Would you stop?” Ben tells him off, moving to block his view of me. “Be nice.”
“I’m not sure he knows how to do that,” Charli teases, and I find myself smothering a laugh when she turns to me, pointing a thumb at Mac.
“You’ll have to excuse him. I’m pretty sure he was raised by vampires or something equally creepy.
The guy likes to weird people out with those crazy blue eyes of his, but underneath that icy exterior, there is actually a beating heart.
I know it’s hard to tell, but I swear there are some squishy nice bits about him.
” Charli throws him a cheesy smile while Mac narrows his eyes and gives her the finger. “See! What a sweetheart.”
I laugh again, the sound coming out as this weird guffaw. I was trying to swallow it, but that didn’t really work and… great, now I’m choking on my own saliva. I cough and splutter, turning beet red while Ben rubs my back and asks if I’d like some cereal.
At midnight?
“I’m good.” I shake my head, and he smiles at me, his eyes telling me not to worry.
“So, how long has this been going on?” Sawyer turns a chair around and swings his leg over it, grinning at me like he knows the answer already.
Ben gives him a little side-eye, wrapping a protective arm around my waist. “We became official about a week ago.”
“Thought I heard some shenanigans up there.” Sawyer wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I’m going red all over again.
Squirming in my socks, I tug Ben’s sweater down even farther and start praying this will be over soon.
But it isn’t. They invite us to take a seat at the table.
Ben makes himself some peppermint tea, and I hover in the kitchen, not leaving his side for a second, then perch on his lap while the guys tell me all about their basketball game.
Sounds like this new coach might be a real asset to the team, and they all seem pretty excited by how well they played, even though they lost.
“This might be our best season yet,” Darian tells me, and I smile at him, their excitement rubbing off on me too.
Hooking my arm around Ben’s neck, I share his cup of tea and feel myself starting to relax the more time I spend down here.
Jimmy’s pretty quiet. He sips something hot and steamy that must be some kind of tea, although it smells a little funky.
Mac is downing another beer, and Sawyer’s on his third bowl of cereal.
These guys are definitely entertaining. Darian and Charli banter like classic siblings, and I watch them with a smile, loving the way Ben’s hand is resting on my thigh. I feel so safe with him and nestle even closer, making the very easy decision to stay the night.
The next morning, after Ben gets back from his run, I sit around the dining table, enjoying delicious scrambled eggs. Sawyer’s a master in the kitchen, according to Charli, and if these eggs are anything to go by, then she’s right.
On the way to my first class, we swing by Java Jeans to grab some coffee, and then Ben’s kissing me goodbye and telling me to meet him after basketball practice.
“Do you want to go out for dinner or eat in?”
I shrug. “I don’t mind.”
“Let’s hit up Eat Your Faves. I’ll meet you there, and then we can go to my place if you want.”
“Yeah, sounds good.” I nod, smiling up at him before going up on my tiptoes for one final kiss.
His lips are soft and beautiful, and I love the way he brushes his nose against mine after pulling away. “See ya soon, Jo.”
“Have a good day, Ben.” I smile as he walks away, wondering what I could possibly shorten his name too.
It’s only three little letters. You can’t really get much shorter than that.
Digging out my phone, I start googling pet names for boyfriends. There are a lot to choose from, and I don’t like many of them, but “beau” is kind of cute. Beau and Jo. Little cheesy, but I’m wondering if he won’t mind me calling him that.
Sure, it’s old-fashioned, but I think it suits him.
I’m just gonna try it tonight and see how he reacts. Pet names are like the next stage in a relationship, right? He’s been using “baby”—which melts me every time—and he’s said Jo, which is sweet. The people closest to me call me JoJo or Joey, so Ben using Jo makes me all warm and loved-up.
My boyfriend.
I have a boyfriend!
A beau!
I basically float into class, sitting down with a dreamy smile and pulling out my laptop. I’m not sure how I’m going to concentrate with all of these love bubbles popping inside me… and the thought of having to tell Caroline about us, which keeps trying to needle into me and ruin this giddy joy.
Or it could be the fact that my ever-curious brain is tuning into the conversation behind me, and my blood is starting to boil with annoyance and a heathy dose of horror.
“And I think he recorded her.” The girl behind me sniffs. “Can you believe that?”
The one beside her gasps. “He recorded her having sex with him?”
“I think so.”
“That asshole. How did she find out?”
“It was just after they were done, and she was staring up at his ceiling, and she thought she saw a camera lens. Just a little one hidden up there between all the—”
“That shithead!” her friend interrupts. “Did she call him on it?”
“She tried to, but then he got really shitty, telling her it was just a light. He told her to stop accusing him and then warned her that if he did record it, which he didn’t, but if he did and she tried to smear his name, any smart guy would post that shit online.
Those were his exact words, apparently.” The girl sniffs again, her voice shaking.
“What are we supposed to do with jerks like that roaming the campus? If anyone reports him or complains, he might post the video before someone can stop him. I so could not handle having myself online that way. She’s terrified. ”
“I’m going to kill this asshole. Who he is?”
“I don’t know. Her friend wouldn’t give her a name. She just wants to forget this whole thing.”
“But he needs to go down.”
“I agree, but it’s a pretty big risk. She’s not willing to take it, and I wouldn’t be either.” The girl sucks in a shaky breath, and I spin without thinking about it, my face no doubt giving away the fact that I heard every word.
The girl bulges her eyes at me, and her friend gives me a scowl.
“I’m so sorry that happened to your friend,” I whisper. “And he should go down for it.”
The girls share a little side-eye, obviously annoyed I was listening in.
“I didn’t mean to. I just caught the comment about the recording, and then I couldn’t help myself.” I wince. “Your friend must be…” I shake my head.
“She’s not my direct friend. I’ve only met her, like, once, but she’s friends with one of my friends from high school and—” She suddenly stops, shaking her head like she’s surprised herself by saying that much. “I don’t think she wants people gossiping about this.”
I raise my eyebrows and force a nod, resisting the urge to tell her that she’s the one gossiping if she’s telling her other friend.
“I won’t spread any rumors,” I assure her. “It’s not my story to share. I just… it’s… it’s so abhorrent. Such a violation. He shouldn’t have done that.”
“We don’t know if he did for sure.” She lets out a sad sigh. “But she’s not willing to risk it. And I wouldn’t be either.” A shudder runs through her.
“I understand.” I nod while her friend scoffs.
“He’s probably using it for a personal spank bank. The sicko.” Her look turns dark and lethal while her friend’s expression crumples.
“She’s probably hating herself for getting sucked in by him. What’s the bet he was sweet and charming and said all the right things, so when he invited her back to his place…”
“It wouldn’t have even occurred to her to say no,” I finish, because I know exactly what she’s talking about.
I wince. “That happened to me too. I ended up…” Do I say it?
A shaky breath rushes out of me. “I ended up sleeping with this guy. It was my first time, and it was awful, and I can’t believe I let him do that to me so easily. ”
“Why are guys such assholes?”
I shrug and want to say they’re not all like that, but the professor walks in, calling our attention.
It’s impossible to listen to her when all I want to do is turn around and find out more information. I want to get to the bottom of this, find out who that man is and get that recording—if he did record it—so her friend can sleep at night without stressing.
What a sick, horrible person!
Squirming in my seat, I’m about ready to start writing notes to this woman behind me.
I need to know who her friend of a friend is.
I want to interview her—in a really nice way, of course.
Gently, discreetly. I want to promise her that I’ll do everything in my power to expose this guy without her getting exposed as well.
As the professor keeps teaching, I frown down at my notepad, leaning forward and writing out my thoughts and questions.
I want to get to the bottom of this.
I need to find this horrible man and make sure he doesn’t do anything else to hurt this woman.
What’s the bet that he’s done it before too?
He’s probably got stacks of recordings hidden away, that secret camera of his pointed down at his bed.
Maybe there are girls all over campus either oblivious to it or being held under his thumb by the threat of it.
Maybe it’s not just a spank bank thing. Maybe he’s using it to control people.
My mind is racing as I keep scribbling down every thought running through my head.
I don’t take in any of the lecture and am still madly writing when the people around me start to close up their laptops and leave the room.
Shoot. I spin around to catch those girls again, but they’ve already shuffled down to the aisle and are leaving.
Gathering up my stuff, I shove it haphazardly into my bag, mildly aware that I have no idea what I missed in this class.
All I can think about is that poor girl…
and this niggling, unsettling feeling in the back of my brain.
I don’t know what it is or how I’m going to unearth that thought, but something is sitting ugly back there, like a tumor…
and I’m almost afraid to find out what it means.