Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
“No.”
Her head drops to her hands, and her back is shaking.
I instinctively put a hand on her arm, trying to comfort her.
“The drugs were a coping mechanism. It was mainly the pressure to be perfect. Honor student. Prodigy ballerina. Prized daughter. I felt like I didn’t have room to fail. At anything. Ever. I thought I could handle it…but the smallest thing ended up tipping me over the edge.”
The silence between us sits like a ten-ton wall, and I want to break it with my fist until it bleeds out.
“I wanted to forget something that happened to me. And some things that didn’t happen but maybe should have. Everything just reached a boiling point. I spent my entire life being perfect and working hard for it, and at Juilliard, my best wasn’t enough. So I was constantly grinding, working harder, ‘turned on.’ I had to start supplementing with Xanax to keep myself alert and energetic and motivated. And then the injuries happened, and Xanax wasn’t enough anymore. Enter benzos and Vicodin.”
“Perfect is overrated,” I croak. “It’s unrelatable, unsustainable, and boring.”
One question plagues my mind now—what did she want to forget?
WHAT DID SHE WANT TO FORGET?
WHAT DID SHE WANT TO FORGET?
I park on the edge of the woods and kill the engine.
“You said you wanted to forget something.” My voice is pure gravel. “What was it?”
Her lips part and the world stops spinning.
“I’m no longer a virgin.” She stares down at her thighs, digging her shell-pink nails into them. “The way I lost my virginity…it wasn’t ideal. I think a part of me had always believed we were gonna lose it to each other, no matter how pathetic that sounds.”
“It doesn’t sound pathetic at all.” I pull her hands away from her thighs before she makes herself bleed. “I believed that too. Some days, it was the only thing that kept me going.”
“Remember the night you asked me if I partied? If I ever hooked up with people?” She sniffles.
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s the night I gave up on us. Kind of. Temporarily.”
When I made the biggest mistake of my whole damn life.
“Then I achieved my goal.” She licks her lips. “That night, I really was studying. But earlier in the afternoon, something happened.” That something better not be a someone forcing himself on her, because there’s no bail sum to convince a judge to release me after what I’d do to that person. Bailey reads what’s written on my face because she shakes her head fervently. “No, nothing like that. He had my consent.”
“Okay.” Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
“He was a ballerino. Talented. Funny. Charming as heck. And he was accepted, Lev. Everybody liked him. You know how much I crave approval. And I was angry with you.”
“Angry with me?” My brows shoot up. “Why?”
We’d drifted apart by the time she moved to New York, but I never figured out why.
It couldn’t have been because I semi gave her head that day we won the state championship. Because we were giving each other semi-orgasms long before.
“Because you seemed unsupportive about Juilliard. And then when you confessed your love for me…I thought it was another ploy to keep me here. To deprive me of my dream. I resented you for it.”
I rub my palm over my face, groaning. She had every reason to be upset with me.
I robbed Bailey out of her childhood in a sense. She put all of her emotional capital in me, so I wouldn’t grow to be a fuckup after what happened to my mom.
And when it was time to reciprocate, to celebrate Bailey and her achievements, I failed.
But I’m not failing her now. I’m here, and I’m going to push through tonight’s humiliation because she’s finally opening up to me.
“So this guy. Payden—”
“Argh.” I grind my teeth. “He even has a made-up name. Who names their kid Payden and thinks they’d grow up not to be a mega douche?”
A miserable smile grazes her lips. “We went out a few times. I wanted to forget all about you. He was also the campus’s designated drug dealer. But I never touched anything, not really. Well, maybe a Xanax here and there. I told myself everyone was doing it. That it was time to lighten up.
“That afternoon, we got a little drunk in my dorm room. He said all the right things. That I was beautiful. Born for greatness, an amazing ballerina. That he wanted something real. Flattery and Xanax are a lethal combination. So…I fell for it.”
“He got you high on his supply,” I say matter-of-factly, feeling my jaw clenching tight. “Addicted.”
She presses her lips together. “I knew what I was doing. One thing led to another, and…”
A whoosh of air leaves her lungs and she stares down at the crescent-shaped dents she left on her thighs. “Next thing I know he’s on top of me. Inside me. And he doesn’t sound like you and he doesn’t smell like you and his weight feels too light, too casual, too not-Lev. Then he pushes deeper, and it hurts. It felt like he was stabbing me. But I was too embarrassed to stop him.” Tears begin streaming down her face.