Chapter 33
Javi, Present
I stand there a moment. My anger draining away as we both silently stare at each other—waiting for the other person to say something. But what do I say?
I’m trying to put everything together in my brain—filing what he just said into the proper category. But I don’t know where to fucking put it.
His words are blinking at me. A bright, neon sign in my brain spelling out I don’t remember it.
I speak slowly, trying to untangle my thoughts. “I don’t… I don’t understand what you mean by that.”
He lets out a long, slow sigh. The sound hurts me for some reason, fracturing some happy part of me—because I know what it means. He’s about to tell me something terrible. Something that will change me.
He aggressively wipes at his tears, putting a stop to them, and I use the moment to slide my eyes to the car across the street. Light from a street lamp seems to shine on it alone. Everything else dark but the silver Audi.
I look back at Declan.
“You weren’t there.” His voice cracks at the end, but he immediately steels himself—hardening his face back to the person he shows everyone else.
“I went to the party,” he continues. “I was waiting for you. I texted you. And I heard nothing. So, I thought you had ghosted me or something. I was fucking sad—sitting there on the couch by myself. Staring at my phone like a desperate loser. After more time had passed, and I still didn’t hear from you, I decided to have a few beers to cheer myself up before calling Harold and Nancy to come get me. ”
Images of Declan, sad and alone at that party, waiting to hear from me, flood my brain. It’s painful to imagine.
“I didn’t—”
He interrupts me with a harsh look. “I wasn’t finished.”
I shut my mouth and bow my head a bit, allowing him to continue.
“And then Carter sat next to me.” He fills his name with as much bitterness as he can. “Which I didn’t like at all. I wanted him to go away. To stop fucking talking. But, he also kept getting me beers, so I let him talk while I ignored him most of the time.”
His eyes leave me, staring off at nothing while his brain searches for the words. “I only had three beers. I mean, I think it was only three. But maybe I did have more, because I started feeling really… off after a little time went by. I couldn’t even figure out how to use my phone.”
A sour taste fills my mouth, unease rising up from the depths of my chest and into my throat.
He flicks his eyes back at me—his head tilted down slightly so he has to peer up through his lashes. “Carter said he’d take me home. I said no. But, he kind of just took my phone, and I was pretty bad at that point, so I let him.”
I hate the emphasis he puts on let. I don’t know exactly what he’s going to say happened next, but I can follow the trajectory. And for him to think he let this happen to himself hurts my fucking soul.
He wrings his trembling hands before shoving them in his pockets and out of sight.
“I only remember bits and pieces of the car ride. That’s it.
” He pauses—his expression transforming into something more angry and harsh.
“So, I certainly don’t remember him sticking his dick in my mouth and recording it, or anything else that happened in that fucking video. ”
Raising his head up, he looks more directly at me—like he’s unwilling to let this revelation crush him.
Well, it’s fucking crushing me.
I feel my heart splintering into a thousand pieces. My breath drains out of me and grief fills its place. It takes over every cell inside of me. Grief for him. Grief that he had to go through this. And alone.
But the feeling morphs. Sharp, hot anger filters in, slicing its way through every organ and vein as I think about fucking Carter.
“Did he give you something?” I ask, barely able to restrain the rage.
“No. I didn’t take drugs from him.” He crosses his arms, clearly annoyed and defensive at my question.
“No. I mean do you think he slipped something in your drink?”
His face looks puzzled for a moment. Like that was something he hadn’t considered. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Did you open the drinks yourself?”
He stares sadly at the ground, eyes flicking around as he thinks before giving a slight shake of his head.
My eyes sting as I ask him my next question. I try to keep my voice even, but I can feel the defeat in my words. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He looks up at me. “Why didn’t you text me back, Javi?”
“Scott took my phone. He threw it and broke it. I never would have—”
“And when did you get it back?” he asks curtly.
“The next day. My mom took me to get a new one in the morning.”
“So you saw it.”
He means the video, and he’s not asking me. He knows I did.
I stay quiet.
He goes on without any comment from me. “Saturday morning. The party was Friday night. So, all day Saturday… all day Sunday—I heard nothing from you. No text. No call. No visit. I’m right fucking next door. You never came to see me.”
I’m still quiet as a tear rolls down my face.
“Do you know why you never followed up with me?” He pauses, but I think he knows that I can’t answer.
More tears are silently spilling out of my eyes as I try to keep my face somewhat stoic.
“You already decided that you knew what had happened. That’s what I thought at the time.
And then I knew for sure when I saw your face on Monday.
It was all there. You believed the video.
You believed in all the bullshit that Carter and everyone else spread about me afterward—that I was a slut who threw myself at him.
That I’d slept with a bunch of other guys at school too.
So it made sense for you… that I’d do that. ”
“How was I supposed to know? You should’ve told me,” I say, my voice creeping into frustrated territory.
“Did you ask?!” he asks angrily, walking toward me in quick furious steps until his chest bumps against me, his enraged gray eyes staring up at me.
“Did you check? Did you do anything but believe everyone else?! No!” He shoves me back on the last word, his hands digging into my chest and forcing me back a few steps.
He starts crying again, running his hands down his face before a gut-wrenching sob escapes from his lips. “You were supposed to know me, Javi! The only one who did.”
I can’t say anything to him. Tears steal my voice, blocking my ability to apologize to him. To make any of this right. I don’t think I even can.
“Did you actually watch the video? Did you see my eyes? My face?” he manages to choke out in between his sobbing. “I’m not even fucking there!”
He’s screaming at me now. “If anyone should’ve seen that, it was fucking you, Javier!”
“I—” I cut myself off. What is there to say?
He’s honestly right. But the truth is that I hardly watched it.
I couldn’t take it. Pretty much as soon as I realized what it was, I turned it off and deleted it.
I didn’t examine it too closely. I was so hurt.
I thought he had betrayed me. I didn’t ask any questions. I just accepted it.
I failed him.
Guilt squeezes my throat until I feel like I’m suffocating. “I didn’t know,” I say lamely.
He shakes his head. “And you didn’t try to figure it out either.”
“I’m sorry.”
He hums and takes a few steps backward, putting more space between us.
“Did you call the cops?” I ask quietly.
He scoffs and then turns the noise into a full belly laugh, throwing his head back before looking at me again.
“Tell them what? That I drank too much and was taken advantage of by a loved and respected member of the community. By the guy who played on the football team and went to a fancy college and fucking pulls weeds out for his neighbors. Yeah. That has historically worked out well for people in the past. I should’ve never drank with him at all. I should’ve left right away.”
I erase the space he created between us, staring intently into his eyes as I cradle his face. I can tell he doesn’t want to like it at first, putting a glare on his pretty face, but after a few seconds I feel him place his weight in my hands.
“He didn’t ‘take advantage’ of you. You didn’t do anything wrong.” His eyes are wet and tired. I swipe my thumbs through some of the smudged purple liner that’s run down his cheeks. “He raped you. We have to do something about it. He can’t just get away with hurting you.”
He snorts and rips his face out of my hands, cocking his head to look at me. “How nice of you to care now. But I’ve been dealing with what happened for a while. There’s nothing to do.”
I reach my hand out for him. “Munequito. You have to—”
“I don’t have to do anything. Now, please go away. I need a little space, Javi.”
“For how long?” I say with desperation in my voice.
“I don’t know.”
And then he turns around and walks in his front door.