62. Oliver
sixty-two
oliver
There’s no trace of Sydney. It takes cornering Carter outside the locker room—where he absolutely can’t slip away from us—to realize that she texted him. He told her to go to his place, although he seems sheepish when he tells us his apartment door is locked.
So she’s waiting for him outside it?
If she decided to wait at all.
“What’s going on?” Carter asks. “She just mentioned…”
His gaze goes to Penn. I glance his way, too, although so far he’s kept his mouth shut. Surprising for him, since he usually tells me everything. But now, with both of us glaring at him, he shudders.
He slowly pulls his phone out and goes to an app.
There’s one conversation there, a long thread of texts back and forth.
Sydney.
I take it, going all the way up to the top. Where she asks him who he is, and he doesn’t answer. When he finally settles on L. For Lucas, his fucking middle name. How he doesn’t give her any more information about himself.
How they converse in lies.
My heart beats too fast for my liking, and I have to steel myself against throwing his phone on the floor and stomping it to pieces.
Wordlessly, I hand it to Carter.
He throws it at Penn’s chest—which I guess is better than smashing it. He shakes his head at Penn and brushes past us. We follow.
“Don’t hate me,” he says quietly, just to me. “I started talking to her when we still were supposed to hate her. I thought I would be digging up dirt on her or—I don’t know. I don’t know, okay? It went from being this fun game to… I looked forward to her texts. I know how insane that sounds, but then?—”
“You could’ve told her,” I growl. “You could’ve come clean any time. And she finds out… what did you do to her, Walker? When you went to the bathroom… you forget you’re supposed to use the men’s restroom and wind up with her instead?”
Carter whips around. “What?”
“I—”
“He’s the one who put the plug in her ass,” Carter suddenly says. “She was wearing it when I got there. I don’t—” He shakes his head. “Damn, I’m a fucking idiot. I thought you put it in her then. But you fucked her ass, plugged her, left her there only to come back later.”
“ Pinche cabrón ,” I swear. Fucking idiot , is right. But not directed at Carter. No, the words are for my best friend, who I’m pretty sure I can’t be more disappointed in.
They set me up that night—I don’t regret that. It was hot. But the whole situation, the whole time, she thought there was another guy involved.
I don’t have any more words.
We get in the car. It doesn’t hurt to walk or remain upright, but lowering myself brings a grimace to my lips. Penn drives back to Carter’s apartment, all of us silent. I’m not really sure what else I’m supposed to say to him besides fucking cursing.
Sydney is mine. No matter what she asked of us before the game. Her initials are carved into my skin, for fuck’s sake. There’s no way I’m going to let her go, not when it feels like she’s finally starting to forgive me. Penn can screw up his own relationship with her—not mine.
Maybe she won’t mind picking, in the end. The others will see themselves out on stupid fucking mistakes like this.
Either way, I’m going to be there for her. It took a minute—or a few weeks—to get it through my thick skull. But there’s no denying that my feelings for her have been there for far longer. No matter how uncomfortable they are, or how confusing it is when I think about all we’ve done to each other.
To be fair—I’ve done far worse to her than she’s ever done to me.
Carter throws the car into park.
“Stay,” he barks at Penn.
I heave myself out without assistance, and I follow Carter up to his apartment. We round the corner from the stairs, and I expect Sydney to be waiting there for him.
But the hallway is empty.
He glances around, then unlocks the door and marches in.
Empty.
I glance around again, and my gaze lands on a phone on the floor. It’s face-up, and the black screen nearly blended in with the dark carpet. It’s been turned off. As soon as I power it up and it loads, though, the very familiar lock screen confirms that it’s Sydney’s.
“Carter,” I holler. I press my hand to my ribs. That fucking hurt.
Who’d think yelling would be painful?
He reemerges, and I show him the phone.
“That’s not good,” he mutters. “And you shouldn’t be looking at it in your state.”
I roll my eyes. I’ve had a headache for the past twenty-four hours. Looking at a screen or two for ten minutes won’t kill me.
“Call her dad,” I suggest. “He’ll probably answer if it’s coming from her phone.”
He nods and dials.
“Hey, Syd,” Coach answers.
“Oh, hi Mr. Windsor,” Carter says. “I found Sydney’s phone. Do you know where she might be?”
“I thought she was going to your hockey game with Penn and Oliver.” He pauses. “So maybe try them? Where did you find her phone?”
“I’ll try them,” Carter says, ignoring our coach’s return question. “Thanks!”
He jams his finger on the end button and scowls. “Now what?”
“Now…”
“Guys!” Penn rounds the corner at a dead sprint, barely managing to stop from crashing into us. “She— I?—”
“Breathe,” I order. “You what?”
He holds out a mask.
I snatch it from him. It’s the clown mask one of us wore. We both threw them out after scaring Sydney so bad. I flip it over.
My heart stops.
There’s writing on the white plastic.
I wonder if she’ll spill all your secrets before I spill all her blood…
“ Mierda ,” I breathe. “Where did you find this?”
Penn tears it from my hand and shoves it at Carter. “I found it in the bushes out front. Did you have something to do with this?”
Carter blinks at us, then laughs. “Yeah, right. I’m in love with her. If I wanted to keep her away from you, I wouldn’t have brought you here.”
Penn scowls.
“Carter doing this wouldn’t make sense,” I say. “I…”
The pitch I gave to Bear comes back to me. I don’t want to remember it. I was livid with Sydney for wearing Penn’s sweatshirt around school. I hated that he played with her hair any chance he got, that he was able to talk to her and touch her. That he was fooled by her innocent act.
At any moment, she could give up information to Carter. To SJU. I was not about to be fucked over again.
Think of it this way, man. Penn’s so delusional about her, he doesn’t see that she’s wearing a mask. So I say we grab her, we show her what a scary fucking mask is supposed to look like, and we prove to our teammate that she’s not worth the dirt stuck to our boots.
When I recall it, the hungry gleam in Bear’s gaze stands out. The way he seemed to light up when I laid out more of the plan. To buy masks, to grab her and toss her in the trunk, to generally terrify her with the threat of violence.
That plan obviously imploded when Penn found us and I left them alone.
I shudder.
Bear was someone I never should’ve involved. But he was my teammate, and I put misguided trust in him. He didn’t deserve any of it.
And now he has her.
“We need to do something,” I urge. “We need to find them.”
My mind is already going back to how I found them. The rope around her throat, her wrists. The way she was gasping for air, her leggings pulled down?—
I can only imagine what he’ll do to her when no one is there to stop him.