Chapter 31 #3
“I think we’re safe,” I tell her, not believing my own words, but I need to say something. Bracing my hands on my knees, I force myself to slow my breathing. In through my nose. Out through my mouth.
The adrenaline is wearing off, and I’m beginning to feel lightheaded. I need to get somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe. I can’t afford to break down and have a panic attack out here where I’m exposed. Parker or anyone else can stumble upon me.
If Parker is looking for me, there’s a decent chance that Gregory or Austin are, too.
Birds of a feather …
I shake my head. I’ve stayed quiet. I ended things with Gabriel. What more do they want from me?
“I’m Adriana,” the girl says, sticking her hand out toward me.
I straighten, swallowing hard. “Cecilia.” We shake hands, and I chew my bottom lip, trying to come up with some sort of explanation. I know she’s going to want one. Any sane person would.
“You want to tell me what all that was about back there? Not sure what I walked into, but that guy—Benson, that’s what you called him, right?”
And there it is. Explanation required.
“Parker Benson. But yeah, that’s his name.”
“He’s a serious asshole. Is he your ex-boyfriend or something? If he is, you’ve got real shitty taste.”
My lip curls. “Definitely not.”
“Good.” She nods. “But then, what’s his deal?”
“I’m not really sure,” I hedge. “He’s never come at me like that.” All true, though I leave out the part where he’s one of three guys who assaulted me at a party this past summer. A lot of that night is a blur. I’m only able to remember bits and pieces.
Austin recounted the night’s events in sickening detail, but I don’t know if I believe him.
That’s a lie.
I’m pretty sure I do believe him. I only wish I didn’t.
Austin claims he was the only one to rape me. He’s bragged about it actually. Like being the only one to fuck me while I’m unconscious is some prize.
Parker and Gregory fucked my face. I remember that part. Choking as Parker forced his cock into my mouth. Gagging when his cum hit the back of my throat.
He and Gregory took turns, and all three of them laughed as tears streamed down my face.
Whatever drugs they slipped into my drink that night kicked in shortly after that, so the last thing I really remember with any sort of clarity is when Austin lifted me onto the bed. I remember his weight pressing into me. The way he tore at my clothes and the feel of him groping my breast.
And then … nothing.
I’m grateful for the nothing.
There’s a recording of what happened. Austin taunts me with it often enough. He texted it to me the morning after. His way of threatening me to fall in line. He says the video makes it look like I’m an active participant. Like I wanted it to happen.
I didn’t believe him, of course. But I watched the first minute or so of the recording. With the angle of the camera. You can’t tell anyone is holding my hands behind my back. That I’m being restrained.
I threw up and stopped watching after that.
I don’t remember everything they did to me, but I remember enough of what happened for it to break something inside of me. For that reason alone, I’ve never tried to watch it all the way through.
I want to forget what little I do remember, not add to it. How else am I supposed to move on?
“Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
I wave her off and shove my dark memories back into their box. “All good,” I tell her, blinking away the burning sensation in my eyes. “I just wasn’t really expecting that. You know?”
Pursing her lips, she nods. Silence stretches between us. It’s not uncomfortable per se. But I still have the urge to fill it.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “I appreciate you stepping in like that. Though you should probably avoid Parker if you see him around campus. He’s …
” I hesitate. “He can be dangerous.” I’d never forgive myself if he targeted her next.
She needs to be careful. “He’s not someone you want to be caught alone with. ”
She ponders my warning. “Okay. I’ll keep an eye out.”
Good.
“He gives off major creep vibes.”
She’s not wrong.
“He does,” I agree. Unraveling my clothes, I slip them on over my still wet swimsuit. “Maybe I’ll uh, see you around.”
“Hold up.” She pulls her long, wet brown hair over her shoulder and gives me a considering look. “You’re a competitive swimmer, right? Are you a part of a private team or something?”
I eye her PacNorth swimsuit again. She’s probably freezing out here. I wasn’t really thinking when I dragged her with me outside into the cold. It’s fall in Richland so the sun is shining but there’s enough of a breeze to make it chilly.
“No. I swim recreationally.”
“Cool. Cool.” Adriana mulls over her next words. There’s something kind of, I don’t know, off about her maybe. But not in a bad way.
Her voice is even with almost no inflection.
I noticed that when she was telling Parker off.
She never raised her voice. She didn’t sound angry or scared.
She was just to the point. Authoritative.
There’s something about the way Adriana speaks and holds herself that makes me feel like she’s …
I don’t know how to describe it. In charge, maybe? No. That doesn’t feel right.
She’s a predator. That word feels fitting. But not in the same way that Austin, Parker, and Gregory are predators. With Adriana it’s more like she’s confident of her place at the top of the food chain, not like she’s going to use her position to hurt those beneath her.
It’s a weird thing to wrap my head around, but being next to her now, I don’t feel like prey. There’s this innate understanding that I’m not as strong as she is. Not at her level. But I also feel sort of … safe.
I roll my eyes. I’m not making any sense. Today has been a stressful day and my cracks are showing. That’s all it is. I just need to go home, get a good night’s rest, and forget all about today.
“Have you thought about going out for the team? One of our girls is injured and won’t be back this season. We need to fill her place so Coach is opening up a last minute spot.”
My ears perk up. Not because someone is injured. That’s awful and I hope she recovers. But having a spot open mid-season is virtually unheard of.
“What’s the stroke?” I ask while silently debating if I can do it. I thought about it earlier, being on a team again. But is it really something I want, or was it more just wishful thinking?
“Freestyle and butterfly.”
I swallow hard. Freestyle is my jam. It’s what I excel at. A small bubble of excitement blossoms in my chest. “I can do freestyle,” I tell her.
Adriana smirks. “I know. I’ve seen you swim before.”
Oh. That’s … cool. I guess. “My butterfly isn’t great, though.” Probably not as good as hers.
“It’s better than Cate’s was. You’ll be fine.”
Cate? There’s only one Cate on the swim team that I know of. But she’s their star. “Cate Carrington? She’s out?”
Adriana smiles. “She is. And good riddance. Girl is a total diva.” She’s not wrong, but that doesn’t mean I’ll agree with her out loud.
Chewing my lower lip, I think about it. Like really think about it. I can join the team. I can compete. I … I can do this.
“When are tryouts?”
“Technically, this Friday, but if I tell Coach you’re interested, she’ll probably cancel them.
She’s been watching you for a while now.
You swim during our practices sometimes and she times you.
You’re faster than everyone else on the team in freestyle, butterfly, and breaststroke. The only one you struggle with is—”
“Backstroke,” I finish for her. It’s my least favorite.
She nods. “Yeah. But we don’t need you for that. Not unless you want to do a medley.”
And swim four strokes in the same race, not particularly.
“But like I was saying, if Coach knows you’re interested, she’s not going to make you try out. She’ll just give you the spot with a smile and say welcome to the team.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want any special treatment. I want to earn my spot.” I want to know that I got myself on that team. That I accomplished something.
“It’s not special treatment when you’re as fast in the water as you are. You totally smoked me today before that asshole showed up, and I’m the second faster swimmer on our team next to Cate. But I can respect that.” She puts her hand out. “Let me see your phone.”
I give it to her, and her fingers tap across the screen.
“There. I added my contact information. Tryouts are Friday at eleven.”
“Okay,” I tell her. “I’ll be there.”