Chapter 4 (Breslin)
“Breslin,” Kit whispers and I roll over, the ache due to not using my muscles and lying in bed for four—no make that five—straight days, becoming annoying now.
But it's so much better than the alternative. Because I can't face the outside world just yet. Not without cracking and breaking into a thousand tiny pieces.
“You've already missed the first two days of classes,” she reminds me and I shrug my shoulders from underneath the blankets.
Kit was able to put together what happened after she came back, went to the apartment—realized I wasn't there—and tracked me down here. Smack dab in the middle of my incoherent crying session.
My mind flits back to late last night when she held me and basically force fed me a granola bar while making me take sips of water since I hadn't eaten in days. Which is probably not such a bad thing now that I think about it, considering the 5 lbs. I'd put on in Europe. Maybe my jeans will fit better.
Provided I ever walk out that door again that is.
And with the way I'm still feeling? Isn't likely.
“Get up,” she yells and I curl into both myself and my pillow.
“Breslin you are on a scholarship!” she screams. “You only have a limited number of days you can miss.”
“So, let them expel me,” I murmur.
Let them throw me right on out of here. Because I just don't care anymore.
“Your painting class is on the schedule for today. You've been looking forward to it since you signed up for it,” she says and I squeeze my eyes shut. Which is a bad idea, because all I see is them. Together. My past and present rolling around in sheets.
“You have exactly one minute to get your ass in the shower or I'm throwing you in there myself.”
Silence is my answer. The crushing weight in my chest and the heaviness in my heart a reminder of why I can't.
There's tugging on my right leg and I kick in protest. “Stop it, Kit,” I yell, but she goes for the other leg and tugs harder.
I grip the sheets, but they slip off the mattress.
“You are not fucking up your life because of that douche canoe,” she grunts. “Either of them.”
“How does something like this happen not once, but twice in my life, Kit?” The cracking and quivering in my voice causes her to drop my legs and rush over to me.
“Bre—”
I sit up and swing my legs over the bed. “Am I not attractive enough? Or interesting enough? Do I suck in bed?” I shake my head. “There has to be something inherently wrong with me. You know the saying... fool me once shame on you...but fool me twice—” I bury my head in my hands. “I wish I never went to Europe. I wish I hadn’t ignored Landon while I was there. None of this would have happened.”
I can hear Kit's sharp intake of breath before she utters, “Do you think it would have made a difference?” When my mouth hangs open she quickly says, “What I mean is...sooner or later you would have figured out Landon was into guys, right?”
“Are you saying I should just excuse what he did? All because he had some kind of come to Jesus moment?”
She chews on her thumbnail. “Do you want the standard best friend response first, or the truth?”
“Truth first.”
She faces me on the bed. “Sometimes you have connections with people. Connections you never expect and no matter what...you can't prevent them from happening—because it's too strong to fight. And as strange as it sounds, maybe that was the case for Landon. For all you know, maybe Asher played him all along.”
She squeezes my hand. “Because I honestly don't think Landon intentionally tried to hurt you. I think he was hurt over what you did...but I just don't think he's the type of person who would willingly hurt another. He doesn't have a vindictive bone in his body.” Her eyes narrow. “Now, Asher? Yeah, you and I already know he would willingly hurt you because he's done it before.”
She tips my chin up. “And I think when you're ready to handle the truth, you need to talk to Landon. It won't change what happened, but I think it will help. Hear his side of things, because you'll be wallowing in all these unanswered questions and 'what-ifs' if you don't.”
She stands up. “But right now? You need to get your ass to class, B. I love you, which means I will straight up murder Asher Holden if he stops you from graduating. Hell, I may even do the same to Landon if he's not careful.” She gestures to the bathroom. “Your class starts in 25 minutes. Go take a shower. I'll have coffee and an outfit waiting for you when you get out. All you have to do is show up. Even if your head isn't there today, your body has to be.”
I nod, pushing to my feet. “Okay,” I say before I throw my arms around her. “Thank you, Kit.”
I don't feel better and I'm not sure if I'm going to take her advice...but without Kit...my life would be even worse. I know that for a fact.
Best friends like her...people like her are a rarity.
“You're my person,” I whisper, squeezing her tighter.
She squeezes me back. “Are we really having a Grey's moment right now?”
“Shut up and take my love.”
At this she laughs and I start walking to the bathroom. I pause when my foot hits the cold tile. “Random, but do you have any idea who the person next door is?”
She thinks about this for a moment and shrugs. “No idea. I've been in here with you for the last couple of days. Why?”
I return her shrug, thinking back to that night. “I don't know. I mean it's not that big a deal I guess.”
“What's not?”
I look down at the polish on my toenails. “The first night I was here, I was an uncontrollable sobbing mess. And I guess I didn't realize how loud I was being until I heard murmuring on the other side of the wall. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I assume it's a guy because of how deep the tone of their voice was.” I pull on my bottom lip. “They didn't yell or bang on the wall and tell me to be quiet, though. In fact, I think they were trying to soothe me in some weird way. I thought maybe I would thank them and let them see that I'm not some mental case.”
Just a girl with a broken heart who's trying to find the will to breathe again.
She turns to my dresser and opens one of the drawers. “Yeah, I don't know who he is, but I'm sure we're bound to run into him sooner or later.” Sadness crosses over her face. “Well, you more than me because I'll be at the apartment.”
“You're still staying there?” I ask with more bite than I intended to.
She looks like a deer caught in headlights. “It's not like I want to but I signed a six-month lease before I left for Europe.”
I rub my forehead, guilt crawling up my spine because I have absolutely no right to be mad at her. I should be happy that she's happy. Becca obviously said yes, and instead of celebrating like she should be, Kit's been here with me. “God, I'm a shit friend.”
She waves a hand. “No, you're just a little battered and bruised. But you'll be okay. You're the strongest person I know, B.”
She gestures around the room. “I already told Becca I'd be here with you for a few days and that we'll start moving her things in after.” She grins. “However, we are meeting for lunch later today.” She places a finger on her lips, pretending to think. “Or rather, she'll be eating lunch and I'll be eating her for lunch.”
I hide behind the door, toss my dirty shirt over my head, and throw it at her. “You're such a perv, I swear.”
She giggles. “You say it like it's a bad thing.”
I crack a smile—the first one in what feels like weeks—and roll my eyes before I close the bathroom door and step in the shower.
“What do you mean I'm not signed up? I specifically remember signing up for the Women's Study class.”
I recall what the professor said about me not being on the roster and the class already being full and I grit my teeth.
When the adviser starts to protest again I say, “It's the last Social Science class that I need to graduate. There's no way I would not sign up for it. Something is wrong with your computer. Please check again.”
She presses some keys and I try and steady my breathing. I don't know why the universe is shitting on me this week, but I've had all I can take of it.
“Sorry, Breslin but you didn't sign up for it.” I open my mouth to argue again but she looks hopeful. “You did say you went to Europe on the study tour, right?”
I nod, I nod so damn hard my head is about to fall off.
She smiles and presses some more keys. “There might be a way we can get you that credit. Depending on what the Dean says—” Her expression falls and so does my stomach. “You withdrew?”
I can feel the color draining from my face. “I—well. Um, something came up and I had to leave. It was an emergency.”
“An emergency? Well, if that's the case maybe—”
I stop her right there. “Not that kind of emergency. It was more of a personal emergency. My family is fine.”
She raises an eyebrow and I know what she's thinking. Who in their right mind would leave Europe?
This idiot right here.
I drum my nails on the counter and swallow hard. “I know I don't have a right to ask you to help me out. But I really need to be in that class. I have to graduate on time.”
She huffs out a breath. “The class is full. There's nothing I can do.”
She taps a few more keys. “In fact, all of the Social Science classes are full.”
My heart falls to the floor. This can't be happening. “Are you sure? Because I'll take anything. Even if it's five in the damn morning, I'll be there with bells on.”
She starts to shake her head again but pauses. “Wait a minute...there's one spot open in the Intro to Ethics class.”
I slap my hand on the counter. “I'll take it.”
She glances at her watch, signs a sheet of paper, and hands it to me. “It's across campus and you're already 15 minutes late.”
In a flash, I start sprinting, silently thanking Kit the whole time that she laid out a pair of leggings and an oversized shirt instead of something tight and constricting.
Despite the sweat dripping down my face, the poorly constructed messy bun on top of my head, and the fact that I'm late, I breathe a sigh of relief and smile when I enter the classroom.
A smile that wipes clean off my face when I feel not one, but two sets of eyes burning holes into me and my stomach drops to what I'm sure must be the pits of hell.
My legs turn to jello. It's bad enough that Landon's seated at a small desk in the front of the room and he's what I presume must be the TA...but Asher?
Just what the fucking shit is he doing here? In a classroom.
He's supposed to be at Dukes. Correction—he's supposed to be anywhere but here.
I look up to the ceiling, refusing to cry. I'll save my tears for later, because Asher doesn't deserve one iota of them.
“Can I help you?” the professor questions, looking more than a little ticked off that I'm disrupting.
“I'm sorry for being late—” I quickly glance at her name on my sheet of paper before I hand it to her. “Mrs. Rogers, but I was just added to the roster a few minutes ago.”
She looks down her nose at me “Take a seat, Ms. Rae. And don't make it a habit of showing up late to my class.”
I nod, nearly salute; and scan the classroom for an empty seat. Which of course, because the universe is so fucking stellar lately; happens to be right next to the asshole himself.
I briefly debate telling Mrs. Rogers I came down with a bad case of Ebola; but don't want to press my luck.
My cheeks heat and I tell my heart to stop pounding as I take the seat next to him. I silently curse myself for wishing that I'd bothered to put on makeup this morning, because I shouldn't care what Asher Holden or what Landon Parker think about me or my appearance.
I straighten my spine and pull out my notebook, which stands out in comparison to all the other students with their laptops surrounding me.
But, oh well. They can take their silver spoons and shove them up their asses.
I root around in my bag for a pen, a pencil, anything; but come up empty. I'm usually prepared for class, but clearly not today on account that I hadn't planned on attending in the first place.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Landon snatch a pen off his desk at the same time Asher leans over and whispers, “Looking for one of these?”
The death glare I shoot him causes him to do a double take. “Unless you want that driven through the heart that I'm certain you don't have, don't fucking talk to me,” I sneer with enough bite that his eyes open wide.
Upon hearing my rebuttal, Landon quickly puts his pen down and the guy in front of me turns in his seat and hands me his pen. “Here, Buffy.” I open my mouth to ask him what the fuck a Buffy is, but then I recall the television show and laugh as I take the pen from him. “Thanks.”
He winks. “Don't mention it. Plenty more where that came from.”
A sick satisfaction creeps up my spine and my heart beats double time when he turns back around and I feel both sets of eyes boring into me again.
I try my best not to smirk. And I really try my best not to look over at Landon, because my heart breaks all over again whenever I do.
Almost as much as it breaks for the other asshole sitting next to me. I take a deep breath, wishing that Asher would stop glaring at my every move like some kind of crazed stalker.
Landon's eyes narrow when he tracks his movements and it throws me for such a loop I almost don't hear when the Professor calls my name. “What is the definition of morality, Ms. Rae?”
“Um—” I swallow. She knows damn well that I didn't do whatever assignment was given out.
Luckily, it's a fairly easy question and I'm fairly smart. “The distinction between right and wrong or good and bad behavior. You know, common decency. Not going out of your way to hurt another person.”
I can't help but look at Landon when I say that—because I sure as hell won't look at Asher—and he blanches.
Mrs. Rogers dismisses me with a curt sniff and a nod and I go back to taking notes.
I ignore Asher when he hangs back after class ends and stands at the door. I have absolutely nothing to say to him. Now or ever. Hell, I'm pretty sure if I could get away with it, I'd run him over with my damn car.
I'm about to charge right through him, but a touch to my elbow stops me. “I need to talk to you,” Landon whispers.
Asher's jaw tics and I can practically see the hairs on his neck raise.
“Well, I don't want to talk to you,” I grind out, hiking my bag up my shoulder.
Landon averts his gaze. “Mrs. Rogers had to go home so she asked me to stay back and give you the assignment that you missed.”
“Oh,” I say, my voice suddenly small now.
I grimace when I notice that Asher is still standing by the door glaring at us.
“Don't you have to get to practice?” Landon growls in his direction and I don't know whether to laugh or cry because at least I know what Asher's doing here now.
Sort of. Woodside's football team sucks. Why the hell would he come here to play?
Not that I should care. Because I don't.
Asher makes a noise in the back of his throat. Somewhere between a throaty groan and a hiss before he checks his watch, mutters a curse, and leaves, slamming the door behind him so loud I jump.
Landon closes his eyes briefly before he leans against the desk and hands me a piece of paper. “The assignment's pretty standard stuff, just terms and definitions. Overall, it's an intro class so it won't be too heavy.”
I look down at the syllabus and nod my understanding. “Thanks.”
I make the mistake of looking up at him and my heart pulls.
Three weeks ago, everything was perfect with us.
Three years ago, everything was perfect with you and Asher—my mind reminds me bitterly.
Only with Asher...I know I was a good girlfriend.
But I can't say the same about Landon. He tried so hard...for months. Put his heart on the line for me time and time again. Had the patience of a damn saint with me and my bullshit...all while I treated him like he was second string.
“I'm sorry,” I whisper suddenly.
His brows draw together, confusion swirling in those warm brown eyes of his. “What? Bre, you have nothing to be sorry about. If anything, it's me—”
I take a step forward and cut him off. “I hurt you.”
His eyes cut to the floor. “You did. But it doesn't excuse—I didn't know who he was. I didn't know that it was him.”
Now I'm the one who's confused, until he says, “You never told me your ex's name, or what town you lived in. You never even told me what high school you went to. You never told me much about yourself, so I never connected the dots.”
My heart twists, for two reasons. One—because hearing him talk about Asher is making me sick. And two—he's right. I never opened up to him.
I take another step forward, closing the space between us. Because even though I'm so hurt and upset with him...I'm also upset with myself.
Because I could have had this amazing man standing before me. But I blew it. All because of Asher.
I reach up and run my hand along the stubble on his cheek. “Would it have made a difference?” When he gives me a look, I say, “If you knew who he was, would it have made a difference? Would you still have—” I can't bring myself to finish that sentence.
“No, of course not.” There's a long silence that almost stops my heart before he whispers, “I don't know.” His eyes turn hard and he pulls my hand away. “You not ignoring me and giving us a try would have made a difference, though.” There's a coldness to his tone that causes me to wince. I've never seen him so angry.
Before I can stop myself, I grab both his cheeks and force him to look at me. “I'm sorry,” I repeat, because it's the truth. “But I came back. I realized my mistake and I came back for you.” My voice cracks on the last word. I'm a razor's edge away from breaking down, but when I look up at him again...the energy between us shifts entirely.
I lean into him and he exhales sharply, a storm brewing on his face. And when I adjust my stance and step between his legs, I can feel his cock hardening in his pants.
And in that singular moment, my emotions slice into two fragments. One part of me—is relieved that he still finds me attractive and wants him to fuck me so I know I'm desirable again.
But the other part of me; the most dangerous part, the part that's taking over—wants revenge.
Not against Landon.
But Asher.
And that's the driving force propelling me when I press my lips to his.