SEVEN
WILLOW
The reality of my predicament hits me once I’ve caught my breath. I feel like Alice down a rabbit hole, trapped in this insanity, because I’m lying naked in bed with Dante while the sweat cools on our skin after he made every dark desire come true. The asshole bully who fucked me within an inch of my life—twice—in this cabin he dragged me to.
He made me face a truth I’ve been denying. Obliterated every lie I told myself to reject what I wanted.
But it doesn’t change what he did before that tonight, or what he’s been doing to me with those notes. I have to know.
This time when I get up, he lets me. He’s unapologetic about his nudity while I search for my clothes. I find my discarded bodice and shimmy into it, forgoing the bralette. My thighs slide together at the thought of my ripped fishnets barely covered by the velvet. I check to make sure that it’s not visible as I put my sheer skirt back on.
It’s not. Only me and him will know.
Once I find my boots, I shove my feet in them. I probably look like a hot mess with the state of my outfit, but whatever. If someone asks what happened, I’ll tell them a psycho chased me through the woods. It’s an accurate recounting.
The note I tucked in the bralette catches my eye and I snatch it up with a huff.
Was the dangerous cougar in the mountains really a metaphor for you all along, Dante?
I grab a dish towel from the kitchenette area. Running warm water on it, I use it to clean the dried fake blood and dirt from my skin.
Dante watches from bed with hooded eyes, one arm folded beneath his head. I tear my attention away from the way it makes his arm muscles bulge.
He still has the fake blood caked on his skin and it’s doing strange things to me. Better if I don’t look while I demand he tell me the truth.
“Why did you prank me?”
I stare at a painting of the lake hanging on the wall.
He sighs and gets up, closing the distance between us. “Because I was pissed at you. Let it go.”
He caresses my arm and kisses my neck, pressing the heat of his naked body against mine. “This is a better outlet for our aggressions. Hate sex is hot.”
I push him away. “Okay, but for real.”
Rolling his eyes, he finds his fitted boxers and tugs them on. “It’s over. I won’t mess with you anymore. Just leave it.”
“You’re even crazier than I thought if you believe I’ll just forget everything without an explanation.”
“So I chased you around and scared you.”
His gaze moves over my shoulder, turning distant and full of more ire than he’s ever directed at me. “That’s nothing.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “The psychological warfare you’ve been playing hasn’t been enough yet, so you had to do all this on top of those fucking creepy notes you keep leaving me?”
“What are you talking about?”
“This, Dante.”
Patience running out, I shove the crumpled paper in his face. “I’m talking about this.”
Brows furrowed, he takes it and reads it. His jaw hardens. Those amber eyes narrow, losing any hint of the mischief usually dancing in them as he skims the page. I don’t know why he’s so absorbed in it when he wrote the damn thing. The least he could do is give me a solid explanation now that it’s in the open and I’m calling him out on his crap.
“None of this would have happened if you just kept quiet about your essay,”
he mutters.
My brows fly up. “Oh sure, next time my homework assignment that’s worth a big chunk of my GPA for the semester is stolen and submitted without my knowledge, I’ll just keep quiet. I told you, I don’t have a trust fund as a safety blanket. I can’t afford the colleges I want to apply to.”
He balls up the note and tosses it on the bed. “That failing grade destroyed everything I had going for me.”
“Please, it’s not like you had a scholarship lined up. Or needed one, given the silver spoon. You’re not exactly what I’d call academic.”
I cross my arms. “You care more about partying as much as you can and racing dirt bikes. How is one more lazy grade hurting you?”
Dante rakes a hand through his hair and growls in frustration. “You don’t get it. You’re smart. Your parents love you, even when you dress like you do.”
His eyes take on a wild edge of dispair. “You’ll never know what it’s like for your own grandmother to tell you every day what a fuck up you are. For her to admit she wishes my ‘gold-digging whore mother’ never got knocked up with me. To have her take away everything. Not just my dreams, everything. She stripped my room and left a bare mattress. That’s fucking it.”
A terrible, humorless smile crosses his face. “Told me to get used to my future because I’d be living on the streets. She swore she’d cut me off if I screw up anymore. So go ahead, keep telling me how perfect my life looks from the outside.”
I gasp in shock at his tortured confession.
He takes a heaving breath and stares at me with wide, horrified eyes. Once he started, it all poured out of him. I don’t think he’s told anyone what things are like for him.
He’s hidden this from all of us, even his friends. He’s not the spoiled rich boy I thought he was. Why would he hide this? He needs help.
I crush the well of sympathy that opens up in my chest. “Dante…”
“Oh, fucking save it. There’s no taking it back now.”
His misplaced anger reignites mine. All the agony he’s put me through is because of the abuse he faces at home. How could I know what would happen to him? All I was worried about was failing because someone stole my work. He never stopped to think of what it could mean for my future.
“Why didn’t you just ask for help if you were struggling with the essay assignment?”
I yell. “I would’ve helped, but no, you have to ridicule me for being different.”
“I didn’t know it was your paper! All I knew was that it was a quality paper that I could pass with. Then you ratted me out.”
“That is such an asinine reason to hate me!”
I scrub my face and glare at him. “I didn’t know, either. I had no idea it was you or Lowell that had my stolen paper. All I did was prove my essay was mine. It wasn’t until you were both suspended I made the connection.”
He nods slowly, features twisted in fury and mortification. Maybe he’s angrier with himself for being more honest with me than he meant to be than he is at the reason he believes he’s justified in hating me.
I’m done with this. Done with him.
As mad as I am with him, I don’t forget what he said about his grandmother. My stomach twists at the injustice he’s faced. Even if she’s not hitting him, it’s still abuse. It’s not right. No one should live like that, no matter what kind of person they are.
With a frustrated noise, I grab his jeans from the floor and rifle through them. My phone is in his pocket. He found it when I lost it. I shoot him an incredulous glare. Taking my ID, I fling the pants at him, find my purse, and storm out of the cabin.
Dante doesn’t stop me.
I check my phone on my way back to the party. It’s after midnight now, officially Halloween. There are no missed messages. No one is aware I’ve been missing, or the nightmare I’ve been through.
I grab the first person I see. “Hey, do you know what time the next hearse leaves?”
“They’re done for the night, I think. Everyone’s here.”
The girl shrugs and staggers off to make another drink.
Shit.
My only option is walking back to the gate to leave. Over four miles. A weak laugh leaves me. The twinges in my overworked muscles feel like I’ve ran twice that tonight, and that was before two rounds of wild sex. Maybe it’s the adrenaline crash. I thumb my phone, considering that Mom is probably asleep by now.
Luna waves me over. “There you are! You missed the costume contest. Come on, we’re making s’mores. Ryder brought weed-laced chocolate.”
She doesn’t blink at the state of my clothes. I guess it is Halloween, it’s not shocking to see someone going around in torn up clothes if it’s part of a costume. I chew on my lip.
“Okay.”
I accept a piece of chocolate from Ryder, ignoring his lewd wink.
“Here, Eli. This one’s for you.”
He drapes an arm over Eliana’s shoulder with a smirk. “Sugar-free.”
She scrutinizes the piece he offers, peering up at him in suspicion. “Thanks.”
The cheerleader turns away from him to make her treat. Lowell and Easton watch closely.. Maybe a little too intently. A shiver runs down my spine at the anger in their expressions. It’s not unlike the way Dante looks at me.
“Here.”
Luna pulls my attention. “You have to sandwich your marshmallow between two pieces of chocolate, then the graham cracker. It’s better that way. My mom’s secret.”
She looks up with a wide smile. Her gaze shifts over my shoulder. “Dante! Come have a s’more.”
I twist to find him striding back from the cabin, sharp jaw clenched, hands shoved in the pockets of his trench coat. He cleaned off most of the fake blood, but missed some. The last of the face paint has been wiped away, too.
My stomach dips at the sight of him. I whirl around and focus on roasting my marshmallow in the flames with the long skewer.
If I’m staying, the new plan is to keep away from Dante and forget everything that happened. His stupid prank. The awful truth he confessed to me.
Most of all, what we did in the cabin.