Chapter 30
THIRTY
My eyes snap open.
HE’S HERE.
The thought slams against the inside of my head with enough force to bring tears to my eyes.
Or maybe that’s just the hangover and dehydration.
I’m sweating and nauseous, and I stumble out of bed and into the shower.
I stand under the ice-cold stream until I’m shivering.
The freezing temperature helps a little.
HE’S HERE.
I sink to the floor of the tub and wrap my arms around my legs, letting the icy water run down my back. I’m more than embarrassed about last night. I’m mortified. What will they think of the freshman now?
She can’t hold her liquor.
It’s a cry for attention.
Why did you bring her here, Wes?
Out of all the girls…
I want to crawl down the drain, drown myself in the bathtub, throw myself off the roof of this stunning, beachside mansion. Anything to get away from it all. Anything to not exist.
A knock sounds against the bathroom door.
“Ives?” I don’t answer. “Ivy?” I still don’t answer. The door handle jiggles, but I locked it. I’m grateful I did. I don’t want Wes to see me like this. “Are you okay in there?”
“I’m fine,” I croak. It will take days for my throat to heal.
His voice is muffled through the door. “Some of the guys want to go surfing, but I can stay if you need me. It’s no big deal.”
“Go,” I tell him.
No response for a moment. “Are you sure?”
“Go,” I say again. He doesn’t respond. I can sense his guilt through the door, but it’s nowhere near as potent as my own. “Go. I’m just going to sleep all day.”
“Okay,” he finally says. “I’ll be back in a few hours. I left you Advil and Gatorade, and there’s a box of crackers on the nightstand. I’ll check my phone every hour in case you need me, okay?”
“Thank you,” I call.
“Remember to hydrate, okay?”
“I will.”
Silence as he hesitates at the door, and then his footsteps retreat, and he’s gone.
I stay under the water until my bones freeze and my lips turn blue. Only then do I drag myself out of the shower and into a towel. Trying not to gag, I do a violent brush of my teeth and an aggressive rinse with mouthwash, and then I leave my hair wet and tangled as I stumble back to bed.
For the next few hours, I alternate between sleeping, crying, and wishing I’d never come on this trip at all.
When I come to around noon, I push up into a seated position and throw back the painkillers.
Then I force myself to drink the Gatorade Wes left me and nibble some crackers.
Slowly, so my stomach can adjust to the idea of food.
Even though it hurts my head to look at my phone screen, I do, swiping open an unread message from Wes.
Wes: Just checking in. How are you feeling, Ives?
I type out one word, tears pricking my eyes again. I force them back because I’m already too dehydrated. I can’t keep crying or my head might literally explode.
Me: Embarrassed.
I fall back onto the mattress with my phone on my chest, staring up at the ceiling. I don’t think I’ve felt this low since that night in the hospital.
Wes: We’ve all been there. No one’s judging you. Trust me. Rest up and I’ll see you soon :)
I heart his message and toss my phone somewhere on the bed. I try to sleep more, but adrenaline won’t let me. Neither will the horrific thoughts bombarding my mind.
Sometime later the door creaks open. My body tenses because I was an idiot not to lock it, but I relax at the sound of Wes’s murmured, “Are you awake?”
I should tell him.
I have to tell him.
I need to tell him.
But fear keeps me lip locked.
If he doesn’t believe me, what will I do then?
If he doesn’t believe me…
I.
Will.
Break.
Tuesday.
I can’t stay in the room any longer. Now that my hangover’s gone, I can’t use it as an excuse to be anti-social, and I can’t tell Wes the truth.
I tried. All through the night I tried, but every time I went to shake him awake, my body froze, and my throat constricted.
The truth evaded me again and again, until I gave up on it completely.
So when Wes kisses my cheek good morning and asks how I’m feeling, I lie and say much better.
And when he tugs me into his arms and tells me how worried he was, I apologize for making him worry.
And when he tells me to stop apologizing for a silly mistake, I fight back the urge to cry, managing a nod.
He sees right through me though, just like always.
“I can tell you’re really upset about this, Ives,” he murmurs against the top of my head, arms tightening around me. “Please don’t be upset. I promise no one’s judging you. If anything, they’re all empathetic and just want to make sure you’re alright. Okay?”
I nod against his chest, but I can’t help a tear that slips free. “Okay.”
He pulls back to get a better look at my face, his brow knitting at whatever he sees there. “Ivy,” he says quietly. “Everything’s going to be fine. I swear it will.”
My mouth dries up. When I don’t respond, his eyes search mine, trying to read the emotions behind them and uncover the truth. He’ll never deduce it though, not this time. How could he? Why would he? My stomach turns over.
“Did you drink that much because you were feeling anxious?” he asks, his hands squeezing my shoulders before brushing gently down my arms. “Is it too many people? Is it too much?”
“I-I was feeling anxious,” I tell him, stumbling over the words in a way I haven’t done around him in a while.
Compassion flares in his eyes. “What do you need? What can I do?”
Tell him the truth.
I open my mouth, but another lie slips out instead. “I’m fine, Wes. Really. Don’t worry about me.”
He doesn’t look like he believes me, but I can tell he doesn’t want to press too hard. So he kisses my forehead and lets me off the hook. At least for now, anyway.
I emerge from my isolation with my hand in his, bleary-eyed and overly cautious, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into bed and stay there forever.
Wes pulls me straight to the coffee machine and starts doctoring a cup while my eyes note who’s awake and who’s not, ascertaining the current level of threat in this kitchen.
Minimal.
It’s just Ben and Kaden, sipping their mugs at the counter. Ben beams at me. “There she is. How are you feeling, Ivy?”
My cheeks warm with embarrassment, and it takes everything in me to make eye contact. No one wants to be that girl at the party, and yet, here I am. “Better, thanks.”
“It’s happened to all of us, just so you know,” Kaden tells me. “Wes said you might be worried about that.”
I nod and accept the steaming mug Wes offers me. “Thanks. That’s good to know.”
“You should have seen Ben sophomore year.” Kaden launches into a story about Ben’s drunken antics, but I lose track of the conversation when he suddenly enters the kitchen.
No warning. No signal. My body stiffens, my mind going blank except for the alarm bells blaring in every dark corner of my brain.
My heart beats, my blood pumps, my breath stutters in time.
Current level of threat: Off the charts.
“Since when are you an early riser?” Wes asks Mason, coming up behind me. “Last I checked you sleep ‘til noon.”
As though sensing my anxiety, Wes wraps his arms around my front and rests his chin on top of my head. I wish I could melt into him the way I normally do, but I can’t. I pick a spot on the wall and stare at it because I sense his eyes on me. On us. Amused. Calculating.
“Didn’t wanna miss out on the fun,” says Mason, and the coffee turns sour in my stomach. I want to throw up.
Eventually, I mutter something about the bathroom and slip away from the kitchen. My vision blurs, my heart pounding out of control as blood rushes in my ears. Standing at the sink, I count back from ten and will myself to wake up from this nightmare.
For the rest of the day, I avoid. I’m hyperconscious of every single person in every single room.
I know what they’re drinking, saying, doing, and whenever Mason appears like a nightmare hovering at the edge of a dream, I duck and dodge.
Retreat. Retract. I find a new home back in my old shell and stay out of sight… except when he’s with Wes.
When he’s with Wes, I hover like a ghost, observing from afar. They chat like old friends. Laugh effortlessly. Joke around like two people who have known each other since grade school.
And I can’t wrap my head around it.
I can’t fit the pieces together, because how can someone as kind and good as Wes associate with someone like him—someone rotten inside and out? Every time Wes laughs at something Mason says, it feels like a knife slicing through my chest, deeper, deeper, deeper.
“—to play?”
My head snaps back as I realize someone’s speaking to me. Chloe. I attempt a smile. I’m pretty sure I fail. “S-sorry,” I tell her and wince as the word clanks between my teeth. I take a deep breath and try again. “What did you say?”
“We’re going to play a drinking game,” she repeats and laughs when I wrinkle my nose. The very thought of alcohol makes me physically ill. “We’ll make an exception for you if you want to play anyway.”
Before I have the chance to respond, Wes is at my side, slipping his arm over my shoulder. He gives it a light squeeze. “You wanna play, Ives? You can be on my team.”
“Hey, no pre-planning, Mr. ‘Always Has a System,’” says Kaden. “The teams have to be random.”
“Says who?” Wes asks, amused.
“Says me. I watched you two play Codenames. You’re freakishly linked. It’s an unfair advantage.”
Wes rolls his eyes and mumbles to me, “Sorry, I tried.”
I give him a weak smile, but the thought of potentially being stuck on a team with him has me pulling away, out of Wes’s grasp.
He frowns at my withdrawal, and I don’t miss the concern swirling behind his eyes.
When he opens his mouth, I know he’s going to ask me if I’m okay, and my words rush out before he can speak.
“Honestly, I’m wiped,” I blurt. “I might go to bed if that’s okay.”