“I guess you’d know,” I retort.
Instead of being offended, Colin just shakes his head in amusement. “I don’t understand how you’re so soft, Charlotte. You gotta build up your defenses, or you’ll just be a rug by the time he’s done with you. Flattened out and matted down.”
“He’s not like that.” The protest comes automatically.
“Right. Because good guys always cause their girls to look like they’ve been to a funeral. You’re at a crossroads here. You can either forgive him, which will teach him he can treat you like shit time and again, or you can get revenge.”
“Those are my only two options?”
“The only good ones. So what’s it going to be?”
And then he places his hand palm up between us.
His smooth palm, pink and white, almost babyish sits between us like the apple in the Garden of Eden. And part of me is tempted. Colin is clever and sneaky and vengeful. He probably has a whole book on how to mete out retribution. But what would be the point?
“No.” I shake my head. “Hurting him won’t make me feel better. And I don’t want to contemplate exactly how I’m supposed to exact revenge. Sleep with you?”
“If that’s how you want to play it.” He gives me a fake leer.
“What happens? We videotape it and send it to him?” I shudder. “No thanks and no offense, that’s not my thing.”
“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” he responds lightly. But despite his smug words, his eyes show a hint of relief. I don’t think that is his thing either. “Is that what they did? Send you a video?”
I nod and push my hands through my short hair in utter frustration. “I don’t get it. I can’t believe he’d do this to me. You know, he never dated North Prep girls before.”
“How come?” He’s genuinely curious.
“His brother says you don’t shit where you eat.”
He purses his lips together and nods slowly. “Makes sense. The brother live by that rule too?”
This makes me laugh. “No, Nick sleeps with everyone. That way no one’s feelings are hurt.”
“Damn, that’s smooth.”
We share a grin as I briefly forget what is sitting on my computer, but my memory loss isn’t long lasting. The scene nags at me. The whole setup doesn’t feel right. Nate having sex at a party. Nate sleeping with a girl from North Prep. Nate videotaping this. Nate cheating on me. None of it makes sense.
“And with Greta. He doesn’t even like her.”
“Hate to tell you this, but if he cheated on you by having sex with a girl he a) doesn’t have to like her and b) that’s not dating.”
“But his girlfriends have all been either older, like college, or from other schools. Like Jefferson West or something.” I try to understand.
“Miss C, he’s not dating. It’s not his girlfriend. It’s a hookup. A shag. A fuck.” He emphasizes the last graphic word as if I don’t know what the meaning is.
“I know.” I whimper, and then I can’t stop crying which embarrasses me to no end. I shove my palms hard against my eyes as if the pressure can stop the river of tears, but they keep coming.
“Oh fuck. I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.” He dabs his sleeve on my face. “Shit, please just stop crying.”
“I’m sorry,” I blubber. “I’m trying.”
He stands up abruptly. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” I ask. His swift change of subject jerks me out of my self pitying episode.
“I’m watching this stupid video.” He marches out of the room and I trail behind. We take the elevator up in silence and are down the hall in no time.
“I heard the elevator,” Dad explains as he opens the door.
“Hey Mr. Charlotte’s Dad.” Colin offers his hand and Dad shakes it, his eyebrows raised.
“Don’t worry. I’m a eunuch. The radiation kills my equipment. We’re going to watch a movie,” Colin lies.
Dad frowns, his gaze drifting south briefly, and then jerks his eyes back up to Colin’s. Clearing his throat, Dad gruffly directs us to my room and wanders off.
“Is that really true?” I whisper as we scurry into my room.
“Nah, I made that up so he wouldn’t stand there with the door open. I’m guessing you don’t want him to see this.”
No, I do not want my dad to see the video. Colin sits down at my desk, acting as if he owns the place. Flipping open the cover, he watches the video as I lay on the bed with a pillow over my head. He watches it a couple of times without sound and twice more with sound. The pillow does nothing to mute the voices or the moans.
“Shit, this guy is totally passed out. You kill Greta’s cat or something?” he says.
I bolt upright, the pillow still clutched in my hands. “What do you mean?”