Chapter 29 Haven
Haven
I should feel trapped here. Turns out I like the way this cage feels.
The press of bodies around me has desensitized my body. The music has drowned out my thoughts. And the booze is numbing all the awful memories and thoughts floating around in my head.
Should have started partying a long time ago. I totally get the appeal now.
I ruined my glittery pink nail polish. Apparently, it takes three to five business days to dry. But the lighting is dim, and there’s enough booze flowing that I doubt anyone’s going to notice.
Totally wish I’d had another shower though. I put on some deodorant before we walked over here, but I swear I can still smell Bastian’s body wash.
I can also still smell him, but it’s got to be someone in the crowd who wears the same cologne or something. Not that any of the guys in this place could pull off that scent—the one that makes me think of leather-bound books and warm, spicy tea.
Melissa loaned me a shimmery pink cocktail dress for the party. It’s tight around the hips, and the shortest thing I’ve ever worn in public, but I feel like a goddess as I sway my hips on the dance floor.
Could be the tequila.
Melissa keeps dragging me off to Gamma Gamma Gamma’s kitchen for another shot, and I’m so happy to finally have my mind back to myself that I keep following her.
The alcohol’s playing tricks with my mind, though. I keep catching people staring at me. At first I thought I was dancing weird, but they’re not looking at my body, they’re looking at me.
Fuck ‘em.
Players gonna play.
Hater’s gonna hate.
I keep seeing Professor Rooke, too, but always out of the corner of my eye.
I’m pretty sure I’m not imagining the cute guy who keeps checking me out from the fringes of the makeshift dance floor in the sorority’s living room.
When he’s not checking his phone, of course, just like every other kid in this place. I left mine at home. Why bother bringing it when I’m too scared to turn it back on?
My suspicion about the cute guy is confirmed when Melissa taps my shoulder and leans in to speak to me.
“You into him?”
I shrug. Not being coy, but because I genuinely don’t even know what’s going on in my head right now.
She tips back her head to laugh, and then grabs my wrist, tugging me through the throng of bodies. Toward the kitchen, I’m assuming. Until she detours.
Right to him.
My palms begin to sweat, and all I can think about is if I look normal, or like a total dweeb.
He’s all in black, no designer labels in sight.
Dark hair a little messy. Not deliberately, but like he hasn’t bothered to do more than run his fingers through it since he woke up.
It’s refreshing seeing someone who isn’t obsessed with their appearance.
Even if he does spend a lot of time on his phone.
“My friend thinks you’re cute!” Melissa says, yelling over the music. “You want to dance with her?”
The guy gives her a small smirk, then glances at me and shakes his head.
His mouth moves, but I can’t hear what he’s saying over the loud music. He gently grabs my elbow, leaning in until he’s closer to my ear.
“I don’t dance.”
Melissa has super-hearing, obviously. She glances at me, an evil smile on her mouth, then yells, “You wanna make out with her?”
“Melissa!” I poke my elbow into her side, and try desperately not to die of mortification.
He’s grinning when he glances at me again. I wipe my palms on the shimmery fabric clinging to my sides and try a smile that comes out more like a panicked squirm.
“You two can figure it out,” she says, waving her hands like a magician. I hear her mutter, “Hopefully,” just before she slips back into the crowd.
I give the guy a weird wave.
Rock on, Haven.
He cocks his head toward the sorority’s back door.
Most of the houses on this row seem set up the same way.
A massive, open-plan living-dining area with a sectioned-off kitchen.
Huge backyard with a lawn and seating. Even though it’s drizzling outside, and has been most of the day, there’s a bunch of college kids in the pool, splashing around on floaties shaped like avocados and flamingos.
It’s only when the crisp air hits me that I realize how drunk I am. As in, I can barely keep my balance. Maybe all those people in there were propping me up.
The guy leads me to an empty spot by the railing, and I rush closer to lean against it, thankful for the extra support.
It’s like I’m looking through a pair of dirty sunglasses. Whatever I focus on is clear, everything else a blur. When I look at the swimming pool, I can make out the kids splashing around inside, but everything else is foggy and washed out.
“Having fun?” the guy asks.
My eyes drift to him, and I have to blink before he comes into focus. He slips out his phone, scans the screen, and then puts it back in his pocket.
“Yeah. I mean…sure.” Because one is completely different from the other, Haven.
“Blake,” he says, holding out his hand.
I shake his hand. Try not to dwell on how clammy my palm is compared to his. “Haven.”
“Yeah, I know.” He’s still holding my hand. I’d have to yank really hard to get it free. But I don’t want to. It’s warm, and strong, and he doesn’t seem to mind that I’m sweating.
“You…know?”
“Word gets around.” He shrugs when my face just scrunches up even more with confusion. “That shit Ezra pulled last night was brutal. Sorry you got caught up in that.”
“Oh.” Of course he knows. Everyone knows. That’s why they were staring. My days of being invisible are over, and in the worst fucking way possible.
His grip loosens enough that I can pull my hand out of his, and my fingers immediately go to my throat.
Melissa slapped a shit ton of concealer over the bruises, but I know they’re there. And from the way this guy stares at my neck, he probably knows they are, too.
“News gets stale fast around here. It’ll blow over now that the cops are involved. People are already taking down their videos. In a few weeks, they’ll have moved on to someone else.”
Videos? Police?
“Cops?”
Nothing can rip through my flimsy facade as quickly as the law can. Hence why I’ve been doing my utmost best to not get so much as a fucking parking ticket. But I’ve gotten sloppy after starting at AHC, thinking I’m untouchable now that I’m a student.
Blake shrugs, taking a sip from his red solo cup as he turns to watch the people in the pool. “Just one cop, really. Nosy fucker though.” His brow furrows. “I get it’s his job, but seriously, dude needs to chill. It’s not like Ezra’s pressing charges.”
Pressing charges…against me?
No, I obviously heard wrong. He means I’m not pressing charges. Wait…should I be pressing charges? The thought alone makes all the blood drain from my face. I couldn’t do that. It’s…Ezra.
Blake takes out his phone again. “Pic?”
“Huh?”
He turns so we’re both facing the same way, ducking his head a little so we’re almost at eye level, and takes a photo with his phone. Forever capturing my idiotic, puzzled frown, my frizzy hair, the mascara smudged at the corner of one eye.
Wow. I look drunker than I feel.
“Wait…Ezra’s pressing charges? Against me?” The last is an incredulous squeak.
Blake chuckles as he turns to lean on the railing with his arms. “I said he wasn’t pressing charges.”
I grab the railing. “But I didn’t do anything!”
He glances up at me with a frown. “I meant Kai. He’s not pressing charges against Kai.”
My mouth opens, and stays that way, because now I’m trying really hard to remember what the hell happened at the party.
“Who knows what’ll happen when he wakes up, right? No love lost between those two, that’s for sure. Ezra’s such a spiteful fuck, he might decide to make Kai’s life more of a living hell.”
Ezra’s in hospital? How did I not know this?
Then again, Melissa’s been avoiding talking about the Rain Dance all day, even shooting the other sorority sisters a death glare if they went anywhere near the topic.
It’s radio silence at the GAZ house, and it’s not like anyone else is going to tell me anything.
“What’s your handle? I’ll tag you in the pic.” Blake’s thumbs blur as he taps away on his screen.
Is he even speaking English?
All I could afford the past few years were cheap burner phones, and my only true friend stopped communicating with me when I was sixteen. To say I’m out of the tech loop is putting it mildly. I obviously underestimated my ability to pass as a normal college girl. By a long shot.
“It’s cool. Don’t stress,” he says. Guess my panic is starting to show.
He stares down at his phone again. “I’m at @margincallmemaybe. Hit me up in the comments.”
“Sure,” I mumble, wishing he’d take his phone and his incomprehensible conversation with him and just leave.
He smiles, takes another sip of his drink, and then looks down at his phone. Laughs.
Fucking rude.
“So, uh, which classes you taking this semester?” I mumble out, because fuck it if I’m just going to stand here like an idiot while he scrolls through his phone.
“Oh, uh, yeah. Some,” he mumbles, because he’s not even listening.
“Never mind,” I mutter, shaking my head.
Asshole.
He looks up, rolls his lips together in a miserable attempt at an apology. “Sorry, man, I gotta bounce. Nice meeting you, though.”
And then he’s gone. Because I don’t just suck at making friends, I’m actively bad at it.
I turn to stare into the garden, wishing the rain would turn into hail and demolish everything in sight. The pool, the pool house, the neat hedges, the fucking roses.
I can’t believe someone put videos of me online. Where would I even find something like that? Would I even want to see?
When did my college journey include being victimized by not just one bully, but two?
There’s something wrong with the Jordans.
I mean, Kai, I get. Kinda.
But Ezra? I barely ever saw him. And the few times I did, he acted like I was Kai’s imaginary friend.