Chapter 7 - Gabi
GABI
Present Day
The more I think about it, the more I realize nothing about last night makes sense. Kieren’s reaction to seeing us was comically overblown. Why was our presence at Sigma after hours an issue so severe that Kieren ordered his underling to throw us out?
And then the way Jace quite literally threw us – well, me – out… The punishment did not fit the crime. Was he always this much of an asshole? I guess he was, although he masked it well. I just wasn’t on the receiving end of his wrath when we were dating.
Lying on my bed, I scoff to myself. Dating. Dating is far too casual a word for our relationship. I brought him to meet my parents over winter break our freshman year. We told each other ‘I love you’ for fuck’s sake.
Checking the time on my phone, I groan. I need to get going. The problem with going abroad is that you get stuck with a full load of classes in your senior year and aren’t able to coast.
“Ahh, goddammit,” I cry, rolling onto my side. My left hip sears with pain from where I collided with the ground. I hiss and hobble over to my dresser to pull out a pair of cotton shorts and then make my way to the combined living room and kitchen area where I find Vivienne.
“How are you feeling this morning?” she asks, without looking up from her laptop. I use the ledge of the kitchen counter for support as I limp to the freezer in search of an ice pack or frozen bag of vegetables.
“Angry,” I respond to Vivienne.
“Can’t say I blame you,” she adds. “How’s the leg?”
“Look at this thing,” I say, hiking up the side of my shorts.
Her eyes go wide. “Jesus! That’s a nasty bruise.”
“Jace is a fucking asshole,” I seethe.
“At least you got a slap in,” Viv adds, reminding me of my one moment of triumph.
“I hope he has my handprint on his face this morning,” I grumble.
“Maybe we should go slit his tires,” Viv suggests.
“Actually, that is a great idea. Do you think a kitchen knife is strong enough to do the job?”
Viv looks at me with concern. “I was kidding. You could get arrested for vandalism.”
“Honestly, slitting the tires on his motorcycle would be worth the jail time.”
And who drives a fucking motorcycle in upstate New York?
I seethe to myself as I make the painfully slow trudge toward the campus store.
I have a fair amount of class course packets and books to purchase.
When is this shit going to be fully digitized?
Just because paper is a renewable resource doesn’t mean we need to waste it when the digital version is preferred.
Not to mention, digital files don’t weigh five thousand pounds.
But, back to the motorcycle. What a dumb idea. A month from now, the weather will turn cold, and shortly after that, snow will arrive. I never took Jace for a Neanderthal, but he sure as fuck is acting like one.
I catch myself grinding my teeth at the thought of slitting those tires. God, wouldn’t that be satisfying? I’m not prone to violence, but I’m also not completely opposed.
I grab a handbasket and head to the section of the campus store where course supplies are kept.
When I see that the packet for the Economics of Advertising course is two inches thick, I grimace.
Maybe I should have chosen to pursue a strategy concentration instead of marketing, because the ones for senior-level strategy classes are laughably thin.
I find the course packets I need and toss them into my basket, now irritatingly heavy, and audibly grunt when I try to pick it up. The person standing at the end of the section turns around upon hearing my struggle, and I don’t know how I didn’t notice him before.
“You,” I sneer.
Part of me thinks I should walk away, but that part of me is a pussy. Besides, I wouldn’t be walking away, I would be hobbling, and I won’t give Jace Carver the sick gratification of seeing how badly I’m injured.
I drop my basket. “What the fuck is your problem?”
It takes a considerable amount of strength and focus to hide my limp. Jace gives me a once-over, then turns around, pretending to be preoccupied by the packet in his hand.
I sidle up next to him, forcing him to acknowledge me.
“What do you want?” he asks without looking at me.
“What do I want?” I all but gasp. “How about a fucking explanation and apology for last night?!”
He puts the packet back on the shelf, which is confusing in its own right because why would you pick up a shrink-wrapped course packet unless you were taking the class? It’s not like a book you can open and peruse.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. His gruff tone is borderline dismissive, which only enrages me further.
“Seriously?” I ask, raising my voice an octave.
“Look at my fucking thigh, Jace. Look at it,” I order, pulling up the hem of my shorts to expose the massive brown and purple bruise.
His eyes glance down at my thigh without so much as a wince, let alone turning his head to look at the injury he inflicted.
“I get it, you hate me, but are you that much of an asshole that you think it’s okay to physically assault me? And, for what? For daring to show my face at fucking Sigma?”
“You shouldn’t be there,” he says, turning to walk away.
“Hey,” I say loudly, grabbing the sleeve of his T-shirt. “Get over it. We broke up over two years ago. Move on."
The muscles in his jaw feather. He gives me that look – like he might rip my head off but also start weeping – and my fire ignites.
“What did he do to Monroe?” I say with slow enunciation. Jace shakes his head and scoffs a laugh like he’s mocking me.
“Let it go, Gabi,” he says as he shrugs his sleeve from my grip.
“No,” I say through gritted teeth, stepping in front of him to block his path. Our bodies are inches from each other, and with his height and size advantage, I’m very aware he could plow through me and knock me to the ground with zero exertion on his part whatsoever.
“I need to know what happened to her. I need to understand why my best friend vanished like a ghost, why her phone number is disconnected, and no one can reach her. Please Jace, you must know something,” I plead. “Please, if you ever cared about me, tell me what happened.”
He gives me another mocking laugh. “You assume your friend is so fucking innocent. Maybe there’s a reason she doesn’t want to be found.”
He takes a step to the side, but again, I block his path.
“What does that mean?” I ask, pressing my hands to his chest. I know I’m not strong enough to block him, but I’m hoping he isn’t reckless enough to cause a scene similar to last night’s.
Jace holds my stare. His soft, dark brown eyes are somber and heavy, as if he knows exactly what happened to Monroe, but something or someone is forcing him to remain silent.
“Stay away from Sigma, Gabriella,” he rasps with a scowl. I falter at the use of my full name, gazing up at his boyish face, because the only time he would call me Gabriella was when we were…
I swallow the burgeoning lump in my throat.
He quickly sidesteps around me, and I make no move to stop him.