Girl Lost (13 page)

“You weren’t complaining when it was you I kissed,” he snaps.

“Actually, I did. And I told you not to do this to her. So why? And why the hell do you think she’s just going to forgive you now?”

I’m furious, and I want him gone, and my stoic roommate back. “You fucking hurt her, you asshole.” I spit.

“I
know.,”
he snarls, grabbing me by the shoulders. For a moment, everything narrows to that, every sense clamoring in fear, and I can’t breathe.

Wrong. He’ll be mad. WRONG. Get. Away.

I don’t realize I’ve said anything out loud, until James takes a startled step back. I take a breath, and then another. Trying to get my heart to stop attempting to pound out of my chest, trying to get the damn voice in my head to shut up so I can think, and I still haven’t looked at him, but I know—I can feel it, his gaze on me, startled and confused and just a little worried.

My crazy is out there for everyone to see it right now.

“I don’t know what to do,” he says hoarsely. “I…they don’t mean anything. None of them mean anything, except her. She has to know that. You have to help me tell her.”

“I don’t have to help you do anything, James. Right now, you need to back off—she needs space. I suggest you go away and give it to her.”

I open the door and slip back inside. He stands there, his hands limp at his side. His blue eyes are dim, staring at the ground in defeat, his entire posture bowed by it. I hesitate once. “It’s going to be ok,” I murmur. It brings his head up, eyes sparking, and I give him a weak smile before I push the door shut and lock it.

Orchid rolls onto her side and gives me a watery smile.

“How much did you hear?”

“All of it.”

I want to tell her that James looks sincere, that he looks miserable and broken. But I don’t think she’s quite ready for that, so I don’t. I perch on the edge of her bed. “Are you going to the brunch tomorrow?”

“Fuck, no. Father left this afternoon—I’m not going to it voluntarily.”

“Me, either. Aunt J and Grayson are leaving before it starts, so I’m in the clear.”

“Lane doesn’t want to see you?”

“I’m not with him,” I say quietly. Orchid’s eyebrows go up. “I don’t think its fair, when I have feelings for another guy.”

“Peter?”

I give her a sharp stare. She shrugs.

“You would have to be blind to miss the chemistry you two have going on. I didn't think Lane would last, because you weren't nearly as into him as you are Peter."

"Peter is bad for me."

She snorts. "Believe me. That is always the one you fall for."

I hesitate, and then, "Will you at least let James explain what's going on?"

"Why?" she asks blankly. And that's answer enough. I'm not going to push her more than that—whatever is going on between them is her business and I'll stand by her whatever she decides. Especially since James kind of creeps me out.

My phone buzzes on my desk, and I stand to look at it.

Grayson.

I look over at Orchid. "I have to go out, to see Grayson. Are you going to be okay?"

She nods, waving me away listlessly. "Go. I'm fine."

"Do you want me to bring anything back?"

Orchid grunts from beneath her blankets and nods, a tiny movement. "Chocolate. Lots of chocolate."

I nod and grab my purse and phone. I hesitate then hurry to her and bend down to hug her tight. "It'll be okay, hun," I whisper. Orchid is stiff beneath my embrace, and then she relaxes a little. Her voice is a soft noise, brushing my hair. "Thank you, Gwen."

Grayson looks tired. I approach him slowly, and he finally looks up at me, his eyes exhausted. "Jane tells me y'all spoke."

"We did. And she said it was fine for me to stay here."

"I heard." He says it without inflection or emotion, and I feel the first flash of nerves. His eyes come up to mine, and he stares hard. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Gwendolyn?"

"I know going back to the city will only result in me drowning and living with Aunt J the rest of my life. I need to figure out how to be healthy without her—or you—holding my hand."

"You fought with Micah."

I look away. I don't want to talk about that.

"And you missed a week of meds. You lied to him."

My heart skips a few beats, and then I sigh. "I'm sorry. It was when I first got here, and there was so much change. I won't do it again."

"Gwendolyn, you can't do it a first time. That's dangerous for you. You know it is."

"I thought you wanted me to stay here," I say, confused.

"I do," he sighs. "But I also want to see you healthy. And I'm afraid you aren't." There's a few breaths of silence, and then, “Tell me about Peter."

I inhale sharply. Grayson doesn't look at me, but he extends the phone he's been toying with. I see Peter, his eyes dancing in laughter, caught in film while he stares at me.

"This is him, right?"

I nod.

Grayson looks at me. He's angry, I realize. Not just angry, but furious, so volatile it's a wonder he hasn't started screaming. I catch a breath, and he says, quietly, his voice very still, "That looks like the Boy."

"The Boy isn't real," I say automatically.

"But if he were. This is how you've always described him. Slanted, exotic eyes. Red hair. A snub nose and childish mischief. That"—he points at the phone, and his voice ripples with anger—"is your Boy, as close as you can get. And you fucking know it."

"Yes," I whisper.

"Why are you doing this?" he snaps. "Why are you playing with fire? He's dangerous—a giant trigger pointed straight at everything you've worked so hard to build. And being with someone who is bad for you, someone who reminds you of things that aren't real—what good does that do? It doesn't make your Boy any more real."

"I don't need him to be," I say, blinking back tears. Grayson never yells at me, not like this. "I don't even want the Boy. I have Peter. That's enough for me."

"Then tell me about him. Who is he? Where did he come from? Does he know you’re the Barrie heiress? Does he want money?"

I flinch, jerking off the bench to pace. "Does a guy have to be after my money to want me?"

Sadness flickers in Grayson's eyes, and he shakes his head. "Of course not, darling. But I don't want you to think that this could be more than it is. You won't deal well if he decides to shut you out after a few days. And I won't be here to put you back together."

“I didn’t ask you to,” I say. “That’s why I’m staying here. Because I need to do that on my own. I need you to let me. Peter might not be a bright idea on my part, but he makes me happy and I’m not going to end that just because it
might
be a bad idea. I’m strong enough to separate the fiction from the reality. I’m not ruled by my delusions anymore.”

Grayson starts to say something, and I shake my head. “Can we please just be happy for five minutes? And not fight or talk about why the decisions I’m making are bad.”

“That’s my job, darling. To let you know how bad an idea something is
before
it puts you completely off balance.” He grabs my hand and pulls on it until I relent, sitting next to him on the bench.

“I’m fine.”

“I want you to be. You know that, right?”

I nod and lean my head against his shoulder. “Do you think it’s this hard for everyone?”

“What, darling?”

“Parents, letting their children go.”

He laughs and kisses my head briefly. “Probably. It’s fucking terrifying.”

“And really hard to let me try, knowing you have to let me fail occasionally. Right?”

“That is almost impossible,” he says, his voice tight.

“I need you to, though. I need this. You and Aunt J, even Micah—you did good, putting me back together. But now it’s time to let me stand on my own.”

“We’re trying,” he says, standing. I link arms with him, and we start walking toward the parking lot. I can see Aunt J’s car, the driver waiting by the back door. I wonder if she realizes how conspicuous it is.

“Try to have a little faith in me,” I say.

He glances at me again, his eyes searching. Whatever he sees, he nods. Leans in to kiss my cheek. “Be good,” he murmurs. “I’ll call to check on you in a few days.”

“I will. You and Aunt J stay safe,” I say. Grayson throws me a sharp look, and I smile sweetly as he slips into the car and they pull away.

The next two weeks are some of the best and worst.

Being with Peter is intoxicating. He is perfect, attentive to the point of near annoyance. And not what I expected—he’s childishly impulsive and unpredictable. After years of being watched and monitored, where impulsive behavior was frowned upon and usually treated with padded rooms, his spontaneity is thrilling.

Orchid, on the other hand, is despondent. I’m startled by how upset she is by James’ betrayal—she doesn’t seem affected by anything, and yet this has her devastated.

“I don’t know what to do about her,” I say, stabbing at my salad.

Peter glances at one of his frat brothers, a big hulking guy with a quick laugh, and nods at his tray. The other guy grabs it and stands, then hesitates. “Do you want me to take yours, Gwendy?”

Peter makes a low noise in the back of his throat, and the guy pales. “No,” I say quickly. “I’m good. But thanks.”

Tank nods and makes a hasty retreat. Peter stares after him with narrowed eyes, and I finally sigh and throw a cherry tomato at him. His gaze swings to me, amused. “What?”

“I’m worried about Orchid,” I say, pausing between words to clearly enunciate.

“Look, Accrocher cheated. She should be glad she dodged that bullet. Cheaters are bad news, Gwendy. They don’t change.”

“I don’t think the kisses mean anything,” I say. “It didn’t, when he kissed me.”

Peter’s eyes go wide across the table, and the frat brothers go silent, watching me nervously.

“He kissed you?” Peter says, his voice softly menacing.

“Yeah. I think he was bored. I was upset and he was trying to calm me down, and it just—it was a mistake, on his part. I stopped him right away.” I shrug. “But that’s my point—he doesn’t actually care about these girls he was with. He adores Orchid. And she clearly feels something for him. So why don’t they quit fooling around and just make up? It would be easier, and they would be happier.”

“I’m going to kill him for touching you.” Peter says the threat so calmly it’s eerie then eats another bite of cake. “Then it won’t matter who is pinning for who, because the little fucker will be dead.”

I laugh a little, amused. Glance at him, expecting to see his typical half smirk. But I don’t. His expression is distant, staring, manic and savage. It scares me a little.

One of his brothers—Brandon—nudges me, and I swallow hard. “Peter, you can’t just start a fight with someone because you don’t like that he kissed me before we started dating. It doesn’t work that way,” I say feebly.

Around the table, all of them—Peter and all of his frat brothers—are staring at me like I’ve lost my mind, and I want to point out that I’m not the one who just threatened to kill someone.

Men are idiots.

“Go away,” he says, without looking away from me. And without an ounce of hesitation or grumbling, every single guy at the table grabs his stuff and leaves. Within thirty seconds, we’re alone, me across from hum, his knee brushing against mine under the table.

“Why do they listen to you like that?” I ask. It’s not the first time I’ve wondered. It’s unusual, I think, for a freshman to have so much sway over an entire fraternity of guys. But then, nothing is ever normal around Peter, from his strange authority to the fact that his frat is tiny—I’ve seen them with other guys, from other houses, but the ones who wear the Alpha Gamma Zeta are a revolving door of maybe fifteen guys.

“Because I expect them to,” Peter says, giving me a confused look. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“People don’t just listen like that. Not without a good reason,” I protest.

“You”—he points at me—“are changing the subject. But fine. The good reason? I tell them too.”

I frown at him, and he leans across the table to kiss me. I melt into his touch, just like I do every time he kisses me. “Go out with me tonight?” he murmurs against my lips.