Dare Me

“I haven’t read it yet,” I laughed, pushing her away. But the smile on my face fell into my lap when I read the message.

I know why you left.

Now tell me where you went.

I gripped tight on my phone, feeling the urgent heat of the words. But with Isabel giddy and bouncing beside me, so desperate to have all the girly fun we’d missed out on since I was gone, I put on a happy face and flashed her a brilliant smile. “He said he can’t wait to see me,” I murmured. I faked my stellar mood as she gushed, letting her touch up my lipstick and grinning big for selfies while the darkest sense of dread unfurled in my stomach.

I thought I had gotten off easy by telling Callum why I’d left New York. I’d left out key details regarding Trish, Dean and my stepbrother, Hunt, of course, but only because they would lead straight into the stories I felt too sick over to speak of. No one knew about them. No one but me. I wanted to keep it that way and I was sure I’d be able to after feeling Callum hold me on the floor and wipe my tears, telling me how much he cared about me no matter what. Though he didn’t say he loved me. I wish I didn’t notice that so hard. But I did, especially now, because there were obviously holes in my story. Big chunks left untold and Callum wasn’t a fool – I was, for hoping that I could ever get past him.

Shit.

This was not how I imagined this night going. I had spent hours getting ready because it was my birthday and I wanted to send Callum off to Scotland with a perfect memory of me. I didn’t want to admit it to myself but I was nervous about him being gone for a week with that flirty writer from the Times.

My scatterbrain cursed whatever had sparked a new fire in his curiosity tonight. It tried but failed to brainstorm new ways to phrase why I couldn’t tell him what happened and by the time the car pulled up in front of the grand entrance, I knew I’d thoroughly lost my mind because I was considering confessing to it all. If I didn’t, he might get on a plane tomorrow and decide in Scotland that he was truly and finally through with my bullshit. He’d have sex with Ana Hale and party with Oz and come back to me with that hollow look and say, “We can’t do this anymore.” I could see it so clearly that I told myself it was time. I’d tell him about Trish and Hunt and Dean. I’d tell him about Sunstone Communities, the gloriously horrific trailer park where I’d been dragged, where I’d done the worst things of my life.

For the suited, capped men who opened the door, I faked a smile. I braved through the stunning horde of people inside the extraordinary front hall, carved from marble and stone, crowned by a seventy-foot ceiling and flanked at the sides by long, twin staircases. It was dim, candle-lit but flashing with a million light bulbs as some huge event took place. “Fashion Week after party,” Isabel whispered to me, her eyes lighting up as they traveled across the throng of attendees full of actors, models, heiresses she recognized and pointed out here and there. “Good thing Callum managed to swing a private room.” I nodded through the madness. It only increased as it began to storm outside, pulling in every last partygoer from the sidewalk pounding with rain. Suddenly, the floor was swarming, a glittering beehive of beautiful people buzzing, murmuring, kissing cheeks and swilling champagne.

Every last bit of it brought out my panic.

I returned the charm and smiles of the other guests. I thanked the women who stopped me to marvel at my earrings. But I felt like the world’s biggest fraud as I swept through the room with Isabel, blending every bit into the elegant crowd as I silently wrapped my hands around the memories of Sunstone and choked them as close to death as I possibly could.

I changed my mind.

I couldn’t tell Callum what happened.

I definitely couldn’t.

I had the confession so ready for him a second ago. It was a dark ball of frenetic energy that bounced around the walls of my mouth and waited with sick anticipation at the tip of my tongue, like it was standing at the edge of a fatal cliff, so ready to dive off and see if it might really survive. I was convinced I was going to take the jump. But I took one look at the beautiful people and I told myself that this was his world. These beautiful people I had to fake being like were exactly who he was, where he came from and people like them would not accept the real me. They would never accept the blood on my hands and the reality of what I’d done. I knew Callum loved me but I also knew my truth would become his lifelong burden. He’d struggle to accept me and we would eventually crash and burn in a heartbreak so much worse the second time around.

“I can’t find them,” Isabel frowned just as I caught the sharp glint of Callum’s stare across the floor. It was already heated. My pulse rose in my chest and in my ears.

“I can’t either,” I lied, walking us briskly away till I’d lost him. I needed air. I needed time to suffocate my confession. “Isabel, I’ll be right back,” I murmured, my heart thumping when through the crowd, Callum’s sharp blue eyes found me again. They locked on me, fixed tight as he matched my pace from the other end of the room, disappearing in and out of my vision across the wall of glittering gowns and tuxes.

“Powder room,” Isabel pointed in its direction. I nodded despite having no intention of going. I didn’t need a powder room. I needed a haven. I needed a place where no one, least of all Callum, could get anywhere near me as I wrangled my bad thoughts and let them know the plan had changed. I couldn’t confess to that filth and horror. Certainly not here.

Eyes wild, I searched the enormous space. My mind was in need of solitude till it was clear again and I had a hunch my best bet lay behind the staircase, closed off with velvet rope and leading to a second floor of pitch black.

My eyes flicked toward Callum. He mirrored my pace, slowing when I did. His predatory gaze tracked me hard, igniting my senses. It flared my pulse in my eardrums to a loud, round, echoing sound. I was outwardly stoic but my heart slammed like a rock in my chest as I weaved through the teeming crowd, air returning to my lungs only when I lost him again. When I did, I waited till the next flurry of camera flashes, for the second of darkness that came after. Click, click, click. Flash, flash, flash.

Once it stopped, I gathered my dress and slipped undetected upstairs.

I white-knuckled the railing and closed my eyes, Trish’s reedy hiss coming right away.

“Lipstick on a piiig!”

I saw her bloodshot eyes. Big but droopy. My stomach turned. Every moment flashed in front of me. Hunt, the bed, their needles, the sling. They throttled me senseless till I was down to the last image – the picture of Trish and the way she looked at me right before I left. Covered in blood, hanging upside down, pleading my name. I dug my glossy nails into the metal as I smothered the memory.

“You think you’re better than me?”

Yes.

“I didn’t do what you did.”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Look at it! Look at what you did!”

No.