“Wasn’t going to.”
Finishing up with our food, we all stand and make our way to the door. The whole time, (all of a few steps), I can feel eyes on us. It’s Sloane. She does this, and it drives me fucking insane. I hate going anywhere with her. Like a magnet, I turn toward them in passing, but my eyes find Ash Blond again and my heart speeds up in my chest. No smile, no frown, he’s simply observing me. I don’t know if it’s intimidating or turning me on, I settle for the first because again, I can’t afford to be turned on. The cold air slaps me across the face when we’re outside, treading down the stairs and making our way to Nellie’s beat-up Honda. It’s a small little hatchback that looks like maybe fourteen years ago, it would have been worth something. I said we could take my car, but Nellie insisted on hers.
“So, my mom and dad are those gross parents who have been together for like, way too long…” Nellie addresses, for God knows why. “It’s actually so disturbing because they still make out at breakfast.”
“Le sigh…” Sloane murmurs, pulling open the passenger door and sliding the seat forward for me to slip into the back. “I want that one day.”
“Well,” Nellie mutters, clipping her belt on and starting the car—after a misfire. “You won’t get that from any of the guys in there…” Ah, so that’s where she was going.
“You don’t like them much, huh?” I meant it as a joke, but as soon as it leaves my mouth, I hear the snark in my tone.
“No,” Nellie confirms, taking us onto the highway. “I don’t.”
“Why?” I ask, unable to stop myself.
“Let’s just say it’s in your best interest to not go there.”
Sunday, I spend the day gathering all of my books that I’ll need for Monday, which includes but is not limited to meal prepping. I love a good takeout and munch session with potato chips and chocolate, but my body can only survive on meat, vegetables, and carbs. Yes, I said carbs.
I’m climbing into bed at the end of the day when my phone lights up on the bedside table. I reach for it aimlessly, knowing it will be Sloane. She’s probably drunk.
“Hello?”
“Jade…”
Dread fills my body. “Yes?”
“…I need you. Meet me downstairs now.”
“I can’t. I ha—”
“—Now.”
“Okay,” I whisper, my voice dropping to a deathly level. After hanging up, I clutch the phone to my chest and lay there for a few seconds. I would never be free of this life. Shackled by his initials. I will never be free to live my life. He’s always made it very clear that I never will be free. I’ll always be indebted to him, and I’ll always have to make myself available to him.
I fling the blanket off my body and tiptoe around my room like I would at home anytime I needed to sneak away.
I grab my phone and flick off another text to him. Would you like me suited up? Chewing on my lip nervously, I wait on his answer.
No.
I choke on my breathing. Knowing he’s right downstairs waiting in his fancy SUV is enough to suck the life out of me. I quickly slip on some tight sweatpants and a tank before throwing on a hoodie and zipping up.
Breathe in and out. You’ve done this thousands of times, Jade. Pull it together.
I push my phone and dorm key into my pocket and make my way downstairs. I didn’t want to start my college year like this. I didn’t.
It takes me one second to find his car idling near the curb. I walk straight for it and open the passenger door before sliding into the soft, warm leather. “Hello, James.”
“Jade,” James growls, turning to face me. As soon as his eyes lock on mine, all the fear and uncertainty I felt moments ago dissipates. My shoulders square as power surges through my veins.
I lick my lips. “I wasn’t expecting you here tonight.”
His hand comes to my cheek, his thumb caressing across my lip where he tugs on it gently. “I can’t have my Bunny start her college year without a big bang.”
I clear my throat, but vomit almost surfaces, so I force spit down my throat to contain it. I’m used to this. It has happened to me every single day almost immediately after Royce left. I don’t know why it started. I don’t ask and he doesn’t tell, mentally caged in a cell with no exit. But somewhere in those four years, things shifted. It turned into something more without anything additional on my part. I got used to it. The first time it happened, he snuck into my house, into my room. I remember the time because my clock flashed brightly on my bedside table. 3:05 a.m. I hate 3:05 a.m. now. He didn’t speak at first. His hand caressed my thigh from beneath the covers, his cold Rolex watch igniting goose bumps all over my flesh. He fucked me that night. Forced himself inside of me in one thrust. I yelped, but his hand slammed over my mouth to stop any more noise. I was shocked. I didn’t know what to do. I was fifteen years old, and up until that night, he meant something to me.