Chapter 41

A horn blares. Jolted, I snap up but make it only inches before my head slams into I don’t know what. I can’t feel my legs. Something is digging into my side. My arm is trapped under my body and the other one is numb, wedged under—

Another horn. Jarring. Earsplitting. A long succession of deafening wails.

Fuck me.

“Wake up, dickhead.”

The screaming horn stops. My head drops toward blinding light as I stare up at a bright blue sky and Hunter Davenport’s face. I realize then that I’m stuffed on the floor of the backseat of his Land Rover, my head now hanging out the open passenger door.

“The fuck?” I grumble, struggling to get my limbs or wits about me. But I’m unable to pry myself free of the tangled puzzle.

“We’ve been looking for you since last night, dipshit.”

Hunter grabs my arms and yanks me out of the SUV, then drops me in a heap on the pavement. With effort and tingles buzzing through every sleeping nerve, I climb to my feet and reach for the vehicle to prop myself up. My brain is blurry, eyes unfocused. My head erupts in pain. For a second I think I’ve got it under control. Then I sprint, unsteady and clumsy, to the grass to upchuck what tastes like Fireball, Red Bull, and Jäger.

I hate myself so much.

“Feel better?” Hunter asks cheerfully, handing me a bottle of water.

“No.” I take a few swigs, swish, and spit it out in the bushes. I know these bushes. I’m near my driveway. I don’t remember leaving the party across town, though. And I definitely don’t remember getting in Hunter’s car. Where’s my Jeep? “Wait. You said you’ve been looking for me?”

“Man, you went MIA last night.”

I check my pockets and find my keys, phone, and wallet. So at least I’m good in that department.

We go back to Hunter’s Rover and lean against the trunk while I take inventory of my last recollections. There was a house party at some friend of Demi’s. The guys were all there. We played beer pong, the usual. I remember pounding shots with Foster and Bucky. A girl. Shit.

“Where’d you go?” Hunter asks, apparently seeing the realization creep across my face.

“I made out with some chick,” I say half as a question.

“Yeah, we all saw. You two were all up on each other in the kitchen. Then you disappeared.”

Fuck. “She took me into one of the bedrooms. We were going at it, you know. Kissing and whatnot. Then she tried to get my pants off to blow me and I bugged out. Couldn’t do it.”

“Whiskey dick?”

“Limp as a piece of raw chicken.” I search my brain. “I think I sort of left her there.”

“Demi saw her come down, but we couldn’t find you after that,” Hunter tells me. “Nobody could. We all started calling. Fanned out looking for you.”

It’s all pretty fuzzy. There are gaps. Starts and stops of a jittery picture. “I left the house, I think, out the back. It was too crowded in the yard and I couldn’t find the gate in the fence, so I think I hopped it.”

I look down at my hands. They’re all scratched up and my jeans have a fresh tear in them. I look like I went rolling down the side of a mountain.

“Then I think I was going to walk home, but I couldn’t figure out which way I was pointed or where home was. I remember being real fucking confused about where I was, and I think my phone died, so I was like, fuck it, I’ll just wait for one of you to take me home. I don’t why, but I guess I crawled in your backseat.”

“Jesus, dude.” Hunter shakes his head, laughing at me. Rightly so. “I left the car at the party last night after we suspended the search. Demi and I walked home because we’d both been drinking. Foster called this morning and said you never came home, so I went back for my car so I could start driving around checking ditches for you. Found you in my backseat and drove you home.”

“Sorry, man.” This isn’t the first time I’ve woken up in a strange place after a night out. But it’s the first time it’s happened since I came to Briar. “Guess I got a little outta hand last night.”

“You’ve been a little outta hand all week.” Hunter turns to me, arms crossed. He’s got his captain’s face on. The I’m not your daddy but face. “Maybe it’s time to take it down a notch with the partying. I know I was Team Drink It Out of Your System before, but now I’m calling it. Going missing for twelve hours is the limit.”

He’s right. I’ve been out every night since Taylor dumped me. Knocking back drinks like it’s my job, trying to lose the memory of her in some other girl’s face. Only, it doesn’t work. Not for my heart and not for my dick.

I miss her. I miss only her.

“You should try talking to her again,” Hunter says gruffly. “It’s been a few days. Maybe she’s ready to come around.”

“I’ve texted her. She won’t text me back.” Probably blocked my number by now.

“Look, I can’t begin to understand what went wrong there. But when she’s ready I know you two can work it out. I don’t know Taylor well or anything, but anyone could see you were both happy together. She’s going through something. Like you were before.” He shrugs. “Maybe it’s her turn to figure stuff out.”

She already has. She finally figured out that she’s too damn good for me. I might be making strides to better my life, but I’m not there yet and Taylor knew it and she didn’t want to wait around, I guess. I almost don’t even blame her. What the fuck have I ever done for her aside from giving her some orgasms and standing her up at a dance?

I choke down the rush of bitterness that fills my throat. Hey, at least it’s not puke anymore.

“Anyway, whatever you need, man. You know I’m here for you.” Hunter pats me on the back then gives me a shove. “Now get the hell off my car. I’ve gotta go wash the piss out of the backseat.”

“Fuck off. There’s no piss there.” I pause. “Just some vomit maybe.”

“Asshole.”

“Thanks for the ride,” I say, laughing as I back away. “See ya later.”

I head into the house, where I take a ragging from the roommates about last night. Won’t be living this one down for a long time. They invite me to brunch at the diner, but I’m exhausted and I’ve got a shit ton of packing to do before I head back to Cali in a few days. So I go take a shower, and they go out and bring me back some waffles and bacon.

About an hour into laundry and packing boxes, our doorbell rings. The guys are deep into a video game, so I wander over to the front door and answer it.

On the other side I find half a dozen of Taylor’s Kappa sisters, led by the infamous Abigail.

Before I can get a word out, she says, “Truce. We’re on the same side.”

I blink. “Huh?”

I don’t invite her in so much as she invites herself. Plus the six other girls trailing behind. They march into the house and take a stance like a troupe of angry townsfolk in the middle of the living room.

Foster gives me a wary look from the couch. “Hunter said no more parties.”

“Shut up, dumbass.” I focus on Abigail, who’s clearly the leader of this invasion. If it has something to do with Taylor, I want to hear it. “Why are you here?”

“Listen up.” She steps forward, hands on her hips. “Taylor didn’t dump you because she doesn’t love you anymore.”

“Oh snap!” Foster exclaims then buttons his lips when I shoot a warning glare at him.

“She dumped you because there’s a video going around of her from pledge week freshman year. It was never supposed to be public, but someone uploaded it to embarrass her. Now she’s humiliated and scared and she didn’t want you to know about it so she broke up with you first.”

“What kind of video?” I demand, confused with the vagueness of it. “And if she didn’t want me to know, why are you here?”

“Because,” Abigail says, “if I rip the Band-Aid off for her, maybe she’ll stop being afraid and fight back.”

If she means what she’s saying, I guess she isn’t quite the enemy anymore. No telling what brought on this sudden change of heart, but that’s another conversation entirely, and one I’m not sure is mine to have. I’m not ready to trust her completely, but this would be a hell of a long way to go to pull a prank.

“Fight back against what?” Matt asks from his spot in the recliner.

Good question. The other guys sit up, anxious and interested. The controllers and game are all but forgotten.

Abigail looks around awkwardly. “On the last night of pledge week, they had us in tank tops and underwear, and the seniors hosed us down while ordering Taylor and another girl to make out. They recorded it. Last week someone stole the video and posted it on a porn site. It’s…graphic. As in, you can see, you know, stuff.”

“Oh hell no.” Foster looks at me, eyes wide.

Motherfuckers. An overwhelming urge to punch a wall flashes through my mind, but I stop just short, remembering the last time I did that I hit a stud in the wall and broke my hand.

The fury has no outlet and instead courses through my blood. Heart to fingers to toes and back up again. Hot, boiling rage accompanied by the images assaulting my mind—random guys watching her, leering at her. Jerking it to my girlfriend.

Fuck. All I want to do is start ripping heads off. I glance at Alec and Gavin, both of them hunched forward like they’re about to launch out of their seats. Fists clenched, just like mine.

“How am I only hearing about this video now if you say it’s been going around?” I demand.

“Honestly I’m surprised you didn’t already know.” She glances at her fellow Kappas with a pleased nod. “I guess our efforts are working.”

“Efforts?” I frown.

“To shut it down and stop it from spreading through campus. We ordered everyone on Greek Row to shut the hell up about the video and not pass it around, but I didn’t expect any of those jackasses to actually listen, especially the frats. We’ve been doing everything we can to try to stop this shit from going viral.”

“Who?” I growl through gritted teeth. “Who uploaded it?”

“One of our Kappa sisters. Now former sister,” Abigail is quick to add. “And my ex-boyfriend.”

That’s all the guys needed to hear—there’s another dude whose ass we could kick.

They jump to their feet without delay.

“Where do we find this asshole?” Foster grunts.

“Should curb-stomp his face.”

“’Bout to fuck up his whole day.”

“Dude better have a will.”

“No,” Abigail orders, throwing her hands up like a blockade. “We came here because you need to convince Taylor to go to the police. We tried to work on her and the other sister in the video, but they’re scared. We hoped if you could get through to Taylor, she’d convince the other girl it’s the right thing to do.”

“Nah, fuck that,” I mutter. “She can do what she wants. I’m gonna fucking shred this jackass.”

“You can’t. Trust me. Kevin’s a sniveling little shit and he’ll absolutely go to the cops if you lay a hand on him. You’ll end up in jail and who’s going to protect Taylor then? So simmer down, big guy, and listen.”

“Taylor isn’t talking to me,” I tell the girls, who are all looking at me like I’m an idiot. “I’ve tried.”

“So try harder.” Abigail rolls her eyes, making a show of sighing loudly. “Duh.”

“Put your back into it,” another one says.

“Mind over matter.” This comes from one of the chicks who was at the diner that one time. Olivia something or other.

They’re right, though. Much as I’d like to drag this fucker behind my Jeep, now would be a terrible time to get arrested. As long as that video of Taylor is out there, she’s a target. Who knows what kind of sick pervert might get a real dumb idea to mess with her. I’ve got to be here to watch her back, even if she doesn’t know I am.

I’d do anything to keep her safe.

“I’ll try,” I promise Taylor’s sorority sisters. My voice sounds raspy, so I clear my throat. “I’ll head over to her place now.”

If Abigail’s story about why Taylor broke it off is true, I’ve got to get her back. Up until this point, I hadn’t wanted to push Taylor too hard. Yeah, I probably blew up her phone too much the night she ended it, but I didn’t stand outside her window with a portable speaker or wait outside her classes with a banner. I didn’t want to be overbearing and wind up driving her further away.

But now I realize I was hiding too. The things she’d said that night had really hurt. She stirred up all my insecurities, and I’ve been nursing my pride ever since. I didn’t chase her or beg her to take me back because I didn’t think there was any reason for her to do that. Because I wasn’t worthy of her.

More than that, I think I was afraid of a final rejection there’d be no return from. If I avoided the subject, I could keep believing there was a chance, at some distance time, where we’d come back to each other. If I didn’t look in the box, the cat was both alive and dead.

This changes everything.