Chapter 3
I’ve never been able to sleep well in places unfamiliar to me.
Even if the bed I was sleeping on was as soft as what I imagine a cloud to be, my body sinking down just the perfect amount into the memory foam.
This bed was expensive, I could tell without ever seeing a price tag.
The blankets were heavy, perfectly cocooning Cherry and me in a ball of warmth.
The house was silent, and the steady air from the fan spinning above us completed an almost perfect sleeping atmosphere.
But because I knew I was lying in a bed that belonged to a stranger, my sleep was light. The kind where you drift between two realities, tossing and turning, waking every so often. Still, I was asleep. Until Cherry sat up like the comfortable mattress had electrocuted her.
Her sudden movement jolted me awake, pulling me sharply from my uneasy sleep.
I opened my eyes quickly, my gaze snapping to Cherry’s face.
She was sitting upright, tracing her hands over her body as if checking two things at once: that she was alive, and that she was still wearing the clothes from last night.
Panic flashed across her face as she glanced around the room, her eyes widening.
I could practically hear the thoughts racing through her mind.
Then she looked at me, like she had only just realized someone else was in the bed with her.
Relief washed over her face when she saw it was me.
“Blair,” she said groggily, her voice rough and scratchy. “Where the fuck are we?”
“Hey,” I blinked, then gently wrapped my arms around her.
My fingers tangled in her bright red hair, and she let out a small gasp as the strands tugged against her scalp.
I didn’t pay it any mind. I just pulled her close, the worries that had flooded me last night evaporating.
Cherry was fine, just like I knew she would be.
“Blair,” she said again, slower this time.
“I appreciate the love, but can you tell me why I can’t remember anything from last night, why my head feels like it’s splitting open every time I blink, and why it feels like there’s lead pumping through my veins?
Also, why are we sleeping in a bed that is neither yours nor mine? ”
I sighed, pulling back but keeping my fingers looped around her wrist. “Cherry, it’s… complicated.”
She raised a brow. “What are we talking here? Movie, multipart docuseries, or a twenty one episode third season?”
My mouth opened as I studied my best friend, briefly wondering how she managed to keep up with the constant stream of nonsense that came out of her mouth. The thought lasted only a second. The rest of my attention shifted to how I was supposed to explain this to her.
“Cherry, do you remember that guy Brandon? He used to go to Hawking, a year ahead of us,” I asked, watching her carefully.
“Yeah, I know him. He’s cool,” she said, eyeing me suspiciously.
“No, Cherry, he’s not,” I shook my head. “That drink you took from him last night was drugged.”
“Wait.” Her head jerked back like my words had slapped her. “Like, he roofied it? He roofied me? Wait, no. He tried to roofie you! He gave you that drink.” I barely had time to nod before she kept going. “Oh my god. What the hell happened? Did he… did anyone…?”
“No,” I said quickly, grabbing her shoulders as her chest began to rise and fall too fast. “Nothing happened. I found you in time. And Austin and Levi helped.”
“Who the hell are Austin and Levi?” she asked, her voice still tight with panic.
I frowned. “Okay. Um.” I took a breath, trying to explain this in the least alarming way possible. “You met Austin before you drank the drink. He’s the one who found you with me. And he’s also the one who beat Brandon until blood was leaking from his face.”
“Damn.” Cherry’s eyes glazed slightly, and even though I knew she was trying to make light out of it, for her own sake and mine, she was a bit panicked listening to all the things she couldn’t remember. “So we have one bad boy. Who’s the other one?”
“The other one carried you out of the party and put you in this bed,” I shrugged. “He seemed nice. I didn’t talk to him much. It was a weird night.”
“I’m getting the feeling you’re not just talking about me being drugged and us ending up in a stranger’s house,” she said slowly. “And I’m not sure what could be weirder than that.”
“How about a night that ends with Zane Briggs walking into this room,” I said, already anticipating her reaction.
“Zane Briggs?” Cherry perked up like I had just said the word treat. “As in the Zane Briggs I had a crush on all through freshman year?”
“Yeah,” I laughed. “But I don’t think you have a chance. He walked in with—”
“With Seren Garcia?” she cut in instantly.
“How did you—”
“How did you not know?” she asked, genuinely surprised. “Everyone was talking about it last year. She was assaulted by some asshole. From what I heard, Zane helped her through it.”
“Wait,” I held up my hand. “What do you mean assaulted?”
“I mean she was raped,” Cherry said, her eyes serious as they locked onto mine. The weight of it settled in my chest. “Why were they here?”
“She’s Austin’s best friend,” I said quietly. Images from last night flashed through my mind. The hurt radiating off him when he realized what had almost happened. What Brandon had planned. The anger that sent his fists flying. It all traced back to her.
“That’s a weird connection,” Cherry muttered, staring off like she was trying to map it out in her head.
“Seriously,” I said, shaking my thoughts away and focusing on her. “Are you okay? How are you feeling? I know last night was scary. I’m here for you, okay? You know that.”
“I know, B,” she smiled, though I could tell she was a little more distant than usual. “For now, let’s get the hell out of Bad Boy One and Bad Boy Two’s bachelor pad.”
“I don’t think they’re awake,” I said, pausing to listen for any noise through the walls.
“Let’s keep it that way,” she muttered. “I’m not in the mood to meet two hot guys.”
“I thought you didn’t remember them,” I said, pursing my lips.
“I don’t,” she shrugged. “They sound hot though. And you didn’t deny it. So keep your lips sealed and let’s walk of shame this bitch.”
Agreeing with her, we both freed our legs from the mess of heavy blankets lying on top of us.
It only took a second to leave the room we had slept in, mostly because we were already wearing what we’d come here in.
The house felt empty as we crept through it, and although she didn’t say anything, I could tell the luxury was just as jarring to Cherry as it had been for me the night before.
Her eyes were wide as she took in the features of the massive home.
When she spotted the front door ahead of us, she looked back at me and pointed at it, jabbing the air aggressively.
“Yeah,” I whispered, nodding to confirm it.
“It’s that one?” she whispered again, and I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes. That’s what I just said, Cherry.
“It’s that one,” I hissed back, my patience thinning. I gestured for her to move. She was standing frozen in the hallway like her feet were glued to the expensive flooring.
“You go first,” she shot back instantly.
“Fine,” I said, louder than I meant to. The next voice that cut through the house confirmed it.
“Wow.” Austin’s voice was paired with the sound of his footsteps. A second later, he rounded the corner, a grin stretched across his face. “You give two girls a place to sleep and they thank you by sneaking out in the morning. I didn’t think you had it in you, Yellow.”
“Yellow?” Cherry echoed, looking at me for answers. I didn’t have any, so I lifted my hands in a helpless shrug.
“How are you feeling?” Levi asked as he stepped into the room, his attention fixed solely on Cherry.
“Um,” Cherry glanced at me with an expression I knew well. She was into him. “Like I need a shower and my own bed for the next eight hours.”
“Fair,” Levi smiled, clearly relieved that she was okay.
“Before you escape, Yellow,” Austin cut in, pulling my attention away from my mental commentary on Levi and Cherry. “Come talk to me.”
He nodded toward the end of the hall and walked off like it was already settled.
I hesitated, but ultimately followed, not rushing, not hesitating.
The morning light at the window softened the sharp angles of the house, turning everything pale and quiet.
He stopped there, half-turned toward me, close enough that I could feel his presence without it pressing in.
“What?” I asked.
“Give me your number.” Direct. No buildup. No charm layered over it. I respected that.
I crossed my arms loosely. “You’re not subtle.”
“I don’t pretend to be.”
“People usually warm up first,” I said. “Small talk. Context.”
“I already have context,” he replied.
I studied him for a second. He looked different in the daylight. Less dangerous, maybe. Or just more honest about what he was. The hoodie was pulled up, hiding the tattoo that had drawn my eye the first night, but the intensity was still there. Unfiltered.
“Why do you keep calling me Yellow?” I asked.
His mouth curved like he’d been waiting for me to ask again.
“Because it fits.” He stepped closer. Not enough to crowd me.
Enough to be deliberate. “The dress,” he said, and this time he didn’t just gesture.
His fingers brushed the fabric at my hip, slow and unapologetic.
The contact sent a quiet awareness through me, not shock, not nerves.
Awareness. “The color. The way you carry yourself. You don’t shrink when things get ugly. ”
I didn’t step back. “You’re confident for someone who met me under questionable circumstances,” I said.
“I’m confident because I watched you,” he replied. “You didn’t panic. You didn’t freeze.” His fingers lingered for half a second longer than necessary against the pocket of my dress before he dropped his hand. “Yellow’s my favorite color,” he added.