“Zayden,” Oliver calls my name, pulling me from my thoughts. “I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m sorry.”
His apology doesn’t mean shit to me. He may not have orchestrated Rylee getting drugged, but she was at that party because of what he did.
“You say you didn’t know at first that she was drugged?” He nods. “Then why did it look like you were trying to care for her? Before
I left, I saw you sitting on the bed and you looked concerned.”
He drops his head for a moment before lifting tormented eyes to me. “I knew something was off. I never wanted her to get hurt like that. I swear, Zayden. I would never wish that on any woman. I knew Rylee wasn’t that type of girl, and I knew she was only there because of what I did. I felt like shit for my part in it. But when I saw how much it hurt you when you thought she cheated on you, it made me see how much you actually care for her. I thought she was just some girl you were using to pass the time, but she isn’t. I felt like the lowest bastard for hurting you like that and for almost getting her raped.”
That last word has my blood boiling again. Bryant said he wouldn’t have taken it all the way, but he could have just been saying that to save his own ass. The thought of it being a possibility makes me want to find the bastard and finish what I was forced to stop that night.
As calmly as I can, I walk over to Oliver. He stiffens and stands, but he doesn’t move away from my advance. Once I’m in front of him, I take a good look at my best friend. I don’t even know if I want to label him as a friend at all anymore.
The Oliver I know can be a bastard and sometimes mean, but I believe him when he says he’s sorry and that he never meant for it to go this route. But it’s hard for me to look past his role in all of this. Knowing that it was his selfishness that hurt Rylee in such a cruel way, albeit unintentionally, is something I’m not sure I can get over.
Without warning, I rear back and clock him in the jaw. He stumbles back a step and bumps into the desk chair, losing his balance. He falls to his ass, then slumps back until he’s lying down. He holds his nose, as blood trickles out from between his fingers.
I stand over him.
“I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for what you did. But if I ever find out you so much as say one bad word about Rylee ever again, I’ll take you out. You got me?”
With his hand still covering his nose, he looks right at me, no anger, only understanding, and gives me a single nod.
I leave him on the floor and walk out of my room.
RYLEE
“RYLEE,” MOM SAYS seconds before she appears in my doorway. She’s dressed in blue scrubs, her hair twisted into a tight bun at the back of her head.
“Hey, Mom.” I close the textbook in front of me. It’s not like I’ve retained anything I’ve attempted to read over the last thirty minutes—or the entire day for that matter. My mind has been consumed with thoughts of Zayden. I’ve replayed the events from this past weekend over and over again in my head. It’s all I can think about.
I still haven’t been able to fully digest how quickly things changed. I went from my highest high to my lowest low in the matter of minutes on Friday. Then to tack on what happened Saturday, accompanied with what Oliver told me Sunday, and then Zayden’s absence at school the last two days, I swear I’ve never felt more off kilter than I do right now. The last few days have been absolute torture.
“You got a minute?” Mom asks, stepping into my room.
“Yeah, of course. What’s up?” I tuck my legs Indian style, shoving my schoolwork to the side to make room for my mom to sit. She takes a seat on the edge of the mattress, angling her body toward me.
“I know this move has been difficult for you. And I know you’ve been doing your best to make the best of a less than ideal situation. But I wanted to check and make sure you’re okay. I feel like we haven’t talked much recently. At least not like we used to.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie, not wanting to get into the ridiculous drama that has taken over my life. Mom has enough on her plate as it is.
“I know our situation has changed, but I’m still your mom. You know you can tell me anything, right?”
“Of course I do.” I study her expression, trying to figure out what she’s getting at.
“So is that why you didn’t tell me about you and Zayden?” She doesn’t try to hide the hurt that tugs at her expression.
“What?” I stutter, a little caught off guard.
Up to this point, I haven’t really said anything to her about Zayden. Mainly because we were still so new, and I wasn’t sure where it was going. But also because a small part of me worried that she wouldn’t approve. It’s not like Zayden is the kind of guy a mother would pick for her daughter. He’s actually the exact opposite. No mother wants her daughter to end up with the bad boy. And Zayden is the epitome of a bad boy.
But he’s also so much more. I just didn’t know how to convince her of that.
“Zayden stopped by on Saturday. Apparently, he left his phone here on Friday night after he had been visiting you.” She gives me a pointed look.
“We got partnered up together for an English project. He’s stopped over a couple of times to work on it with me.”
“And the fact that you two are dating has nothing to do with why he was here?” She gives me the look only a mother can give. The one that says, I was a teenager once—do you really think I’m that stupid?