Chapter 32
MARK
I’m a little groggy from how long Tim and I stayed up last night, but I’m ready to push through the day. The bright white fluorescent hall lights sting my eyes as I walk to World History. It’s my first class today, and I need to push through it.
These past few weeks, I’ve been so proud of Tim.
He’s stepped up to the challenge of creating a new life for himself, and I can see how much happier he is behind the bar than when he felt like a common criminal here on campus.
He’s more relaxed, and our time together feels so fucking special.
I’m even able to appreciate that things didn’t work out with Greg…
that what he did to me is the very thing that led me down to the basement of that house party with only one intention—to get fucked.
Irresponsible and wild as the decision felt at the time, it’s worked out pretty fucking well, considering now I’ve fallen for the guy who I thought was nothing more than a total asshole.
As I near the classroom, my phone vibrates in my pocket, and I check it. It’s probably Tim. He likes to text me throughout the day, sometimes with a funny meme…or the occasional dick pic. I’m filled with enthusiasm until I see it’s from Greg. It reads, Dude, what the fuck?!
And there’s an Xtube link.
Greg hasn’t texted me since we split. I’m wondering if he mistakenly sent the link to me instead of Ryan, but I’m too curious not to check it out. I park alongside the wall beside the classroom door, clicking on the link.
A video pops up and starts to play.
It’s me and Tim, and he’s fucking me against the wall in the mansion basement.
The blood in my face drains.
This can’t be happening. This is a fucking nightmare. It has to be.
Tim told me he always deleted the videos, and we recorded this weeks ago. He’d never let something like this get out on purpose, but all I can think is, Who did he show it to who ended up throwing it online for everyone in the world to fucking see?
But I can hardly complete that thought before another one takes over.
Mom’s gonna be pissed. Dad’s gonna be pissed. Everyone at school is going to see this. Everyone in the press is going to talk about this.
My thoughts race as pressure steadily builds in my chest.
I’m nauseous.
I want to sit down and break out into a fit of tears.
So many emotions move through me, and the way chills rush across my skin, it’s like I suddenly have a fever.
I keep thinking, It was on his phone. The video was on his fucking phone.
Why the fuck didn’t he delete it? And how the fuck did it end up leaking out to the whole fucking world?
Tim showed it to the wrong person. I just know it. Maybe that’s even why he likes to record them. Because he likes to share them with some of his buddies.
Tears stir in my eyes as the familiar feeling of being duped fills me.
Not just because it got out, but at the thought of him sending it to someone.
Sharing it with anyone. He said he deleted them.
And it wasn’t even a video from when we first started seeing each other.
It was one after he told me he wanted to be my boyfriend.
After that night when he told me that he loved me.
I wrap my arms around my body and make my way into the men’s restroom down the hall. As I head in, I see the stairwell at the end of the hall. The one we fucked in. I don’t make it to a stall before I throw up, vomit spraying across the tile floor.
Shit!
I race into a stall and gag over the toilet, nothing coming out. Apparently, I already got rid of breakfast.
I spit out the rest and take shaky breaths, a wave of heat rushing to my face. Am I going to vomit again?
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Images from my imagination—of my parents’ reactions—play through my mind.
Over and over and over again. What am I going to do when I’m passing through these same halls and others have seen this?
There’s no telling how many people know about it already.
If Greg found it, who the fuck knows who else has seen it?
Everyone’s gonna laugh at me. Just see me as this greedy bottom who took the school drug dealer in the ass.
I pull up Tim’s number on my phone.
I need answers.
What the fuck am I supposed to say?
Who the fuck did you show that video to? And why would you fucking do that to me? Put me at risk like that?
Shaking, I drop the phone, and it slides into the toilet.
I curse repeatedly, hating myself. Hating the world. Hating Tim.
I slam my back against the wall and bash my fists against it in rage. Sliding to the door, I curl into a ball. I need to lie here for a minute. I need to lie here until it all goes away.
It reminds me of the day I lost Becky—when the reality slammed into me. It was like being buried in a mound of bricks. Being crushed beneath them, feeling trapped as I suffocated in my grief.
The tears come fast, and I don’t plan on stopping them. Not today.
Mom will never forgive me for this. And neither will Dad.
How could Tim let this happen? I thought he wanted to keep me safe.
I trusted him.
He told me he wouldn’t hurt me.