Chapter 22 Ava #2
“So you thought grabbing me and throwing me into an empty classroom was the best approach?” I asked him as I shook off my shock and marched to the door. One single step, and he positioned himself smoothly in front of the door, blocking my exit.
“What did he say to you in class?” Jett asked as he leaned against the door casually.
“Don’t you know?” I glared at him. Nerves and repressed anger were causing me to be reckless. “Isn’t he yet another one of your friends.”
“You shouldn’t listen to rumors.” He smirked at me. “Thought you would know that.”
“Have you heard what they’re saying about me?” I demanded of him as I took another step forward. “It’s horrible.”
“I don’t listen to gossip.” Jett sneered as he spoke to me, and somehow, he made even that look sexy.
“Figures, why listen when you started the shit in the first place?” I snorted as I crossed my arms over my chest. “Why am I here?” I looked around the classroom. “And how do you always know which rooms are empty?”
Jett considered me for a moment. “You came to see me last week,” he prompted.
So much seemed to have happened since then, but I still hadn’t actually spoken to him. “Yes, I um . . .” I twisted the handle of my book bag. “So . . .” I faltered. I didn’t know how to approach this. Where did I even start?
“Are you ready to tell me why you did it?” Jett’s look was hooded as he looked at me, and his casual consideration of me had suddenly changed to him being completely alert, and he hadn’t even moved.
The guy was . . . intense. There was no other word for it.
He just took up all the space and all of my focus.
I had absolutely no idea how I had ended up in his bed, and now I had less of an idea of how I told him this.
“You tell me the truth and the rumors stop. You lie, and, well, you won’t like what happens next.
” He grinned, and I felt a sliver of fear. “I’m waiting.”
“Yeah, aren’t we all.” Running my hands over my arms, I considered him. “You’re a dick, I just want that said before I start.”
“I haven’t got all day,” he said me coldly.
“More lives to ruin?” I muttered as I felt my shoulders slump. “Okay, here goes nothing, I don’t usually drink.”
“Of course.” I heard his snort of disbelief, and wrapping my arms around myself, I looked at the point past his shoulder.
“Just . . .” I rolled my head on my shoulders.
“Okay, this is embarrassing enough, just let me get through this, okay?” I didn’t want him to look at me as I spoke, so I turned away from him and walked further into the class.
When I heard nothing to the contrary, I wet my lips and told him what I knew.
“I don’t drink because I’m a hopeless drunk, but I can drink a lot.
I mean a lot. Like my friend says I have hollow legs.
But the drawback is, I black out.” I hesitated, and hearing nothing, I plowed on.
“That Friday, I was wasted, so wasted I have no memories of it at all.”
“What?” His voice was a ferocious whisper. “You’re telling me that you don’t remember anything?”
“No. It happens. It’s why I don’t really drink. I never remember.” Staring at my feet, I fidgeted. “I know I come across as coherent and sober, but . . . I’m not.” Taking another breath, I blurted it out. “I don’t know when or how I met you that night. I remember absolutely nothing.”
When the silence was uncomfortable, I turned around only to find I was alone. He was gone, and I didn’t even hear him leave. Well, it was over. Now he knew, and the less said the better. Weirdly, I could still feel the noose hanging around my neck, an ominous feeling that this was far from over.
* * *
Slowly walking back to the dorm, I thought of what I’d said to him. Did he believe me? He didn’t seem to react well, but then I wasn’t one hundred percent sure how he should react. Had the roles been reversed, would I believe him? Or would I have walked away to process?
“This is a nightmare,” I muttered as I climbed the stairs to the apartment.
As I let myself in, I welcomed the cool air inside the living room and thought about the entire mess that was my life over the last week.
It didn’t matter what I had to do or who I had to avoid; I could handle it, but what I knew I couldn’t cope with was the fact that I hadn’t been honest with Mia, and now I had no choice but to tell her.
My phone beeping drew my attention, and, dreading that Mia had already heard the news about class, I pulled it out slowly from the pocket in my book bag.
Unknown: Get your ass to my house. NOW
Me: Who is this?
Unknown: Don’t fuck with me
Me: Jett?
I bit my lip. I mean, I was pretty sure it was, because who else would be texting me this kind of demand? But still . . . better safe than sorry. I re-read the messages and laughed at myself. Yeah, because the messages were giving the impression of “safe.”
Unknown: You want me to come get you?
No. I definitely did not want that. Standing up from the couch, I hesitated. Should I change? Should I at least brush my hair? Should I actually go? I had no doubt that he would come to me, and who was to say he would be alone? He could bring Ash, or worse . . . Gray.
Mind made up, I left my apartment, leaving my bag behind me and tucking the key into my shorts as I walked with no hurry to the other side of campus.
I kept to the back routes. It was still mid-afternoon, so most students were on the main campus, meaning few people were hanging about their rooms or the grounds.
When the huge mansion came into view, my feet dragged even more. The door to the house was open, and my heart told me that this was a bad thing for me. At the entrance, I hesitated. I wasn’t going to walk right in. Raising my hand, I knocked on the door.
“We don’t get visitors.” Jamie Woods, the defensive end for the Saints, was looking at me from a doorway. With the smells coming out of it, I would hazard a guess that it was the kitchen.
“Um, I was invited.” I chewed my bottom lip as I shuffled my feet.
“Ash?” Jamie looked me over with interest. “You look his type.”
“Is he here?” I wasn’t about to be specific about which Devil wanted to speak to me.
I had heard that Gray had recently punched Jamie after training, and the students who went to watch the training sessions said that Ash tackled Jamie badly during the practice session, too.
I noted the fading to his skin, which showed where he had recently had a black eye and bruised cheek.
Seemed like Jamie had met the wrath of the Devils and not fared well.
“They live on the top floor.” His head jerked to the stairs, and he went back into the kitchen.
Again, I hesitated, but I was worried another one of the football team would come home or appear out of one of the many doors and ask me more questions.
With my nerves already stretched thin, I started to climb the stairs.
He was waiting on the second level, and I knew with one look that he had been listening to me downstairs.
“Remember the way?” His low drawl was enough to make the butterflies in my stomach swoop.
Sometimes silence was the answer, and I chose to say nothing as I followed him up the stairs.
To be truthful, had he asked me, I really didn’t know the way.
I had a hazy memory of cleaning up in his room and then getting the hell out of there as quickly as my hungover body allowed me.
When Jett pushed open the door to his bedroom, I followed him inside before I stopped, keeping close to the door. Just in case.
He turned and appraised me coldly. I didn’t note the decor or the furnishings. I kept my eyes on him, so when a pair of arms picked me off my feet and carried me further into the room, my scream pierced the air as the door banged firmly closed behind me.
When I was set on my feet, I whirled and looked at Gray, who took a step toward me, and I immediately stepped back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I asked him as my shaky voice gave away how much he unnerved me.
“Bitches that fuck my brother when he’s not aware of what he’s doing is what’s wrong with me.”
I looked between the two of them. They looked so much more like twins when they were angry. Their jaws were set the same, the scowls were similar, and the dislike shone fiercely in the same pair of eyes. “I don’t understand.”
“Sure you do.” Gray walked past me, his shoulder bump almost knocking me off my feet.
“No, I don’t.” I should have taken my backpack; I could have used something to throw.
As it was, all I had was my wit, my sandals, and my self-defense classes.
Maybe I wasn’t as fresh out of luck as I first thought.
I had no qualms about smacking one of these assholes if I had to; the dean would have to understand.
“You recognize the room?” Jett asked me. He hadn’t moved from his spot, and his almost casual stance was making me more nervous than Gray’s barely restrained anger.
“Um . . .” Looking around, I examined it. Did I? Were the walls lighter than I remembered? I had no idea. “Look, I told you earlier, I was drunk. I don’t remember much.”
“Convenient.” Gray snorted as he sat down on a chair beside the door. “You got amnesia?”
“No,” I snapped at him. He was quite possibly worse than Jett.
“It’s called a hangover. I was drunk, I was doing double shots at beer pong, and I was very, very, very drunk.
I have no recollection of this room or anything else.
” This wasn’t true, but I wasn’t telling these pricks that I was having vivid dreams of Jett and me in compromising positions.
“Your lies stop now,” Jett said to me as he walked closer to me. He was so close I had to turn my head away, or my face would be pressed into his chest. “Now, tell me why you drugged me.”
My head snapped back to look up at him in bewilderment. “What?” I met his hard stare. “What the fuck are you talking about?”