“I promised my parents I’ll go to the Autumn Glitter gala. It’s organized by some friends of theirs.” Friends being used loosely. More like people who can make them money. More money, that is. “It was cancelled, and now they changed their mind again and are running in circles trying to find security and catering.”
Though why I should care…
“Can’t you un-promise?” Audrey mutters.
“Sorry.” Figures that now I feel guilty for letting my friends down on top of feeling slightly terrified of having agreed to my parents’ needling just because…. Just because I still have hope.
Hope is dangerous. When will I ever learn?
***
Dylan doesn’t show up in biology class again. Concentrating on the professor is hard. I worry about Dylan.
Surely I have a right to worry, as a friend, right? And his not showing up again isn’t a good sign.
And it’s not just Dylan I’m worried about. The damn gala is coming up this weekend and I have a really bad feeling about it.
I don’t know why. My parents have forced me into going to lots of social events over the years, and mostly it’s not too bad. I dress up, show up, mingle a little, and they ease up on me for a while.
Thinking more about it, it must be the strange way my father relented on the topic of studies on the condition of me going to the gala. My studies, my future, have been a sore points since my school days.
Why is this gala so important to him?
I shouldn’t think about it any longer. My hunches have often proven wrong. Like, I thought Dylan wanted me, that he loved me, and I couldn’t have been more wrong.
And here I go again, thinking about Dylan… Christ.
The gala will be fine. I’ll be all right. The one person I’m truly afraid of meeting in those social circles is Sean, Sean Anholt, but he moved to England to go to Oxford. I haven’t seen him in almost a year now, not since that last disastrous meeting at my parents’ house last winter, and that’s a good thing.
Sean. A cold shiver runs through me. A sudden memory of his mouth crushing mine, his teeth breaking the skin, so all I tasted was blood, his hands bruising my wrists, his weight trapping me…
Oh God. My heart is thumping so hard everyone must hear it in the classroom. The class isn’t over, but I don’t care. I grab my notebook and pen, sling my bag over my shoulder, and hurry out. My panting breaths sound too harsh in my ears. All the self-defense lessons in the world can’t erase the memory of what he did—the fear, the helplessness, the defeat.
Sean is gone. He can’t hurt me again. At least my parents have stopped pushing me to go out with him. Jesus.
We were only together for one brief summer vacation in my last year of school. I went to visit my parents and they invited Sean over. He was charming at first, and he lavished presents on me that left me speechless. We lounged on his yacht, went to crazy, glamorous parties. He brought me white roses and champagne. I was only sixteen, and still heartbroken over Dylan.
Some things never change…
Anyway, Sean distracted me from my sadness over Dylan, and I was grateful for it. I had fun, and my parents encouraged me to spend time together with Sean. Such a lovely young man, they said. Son of such a respected family. A prince fit for their daughter.
It was summer, and a day with his friends on the yacht turned into a day with me and him alone. He insisted we toast the fate that brought me to him, the great summer weather, the way I looked today, the time that ticks by… He kept refilling my glass with fine champagne, until I passed out on the deck chair.
Only to wake up with his hands on me, ripping off my clothes. I was clumsy with sleep and alcohol, but still I fought him. Back then I thought he was handsome, true, but I didn’t want anyone but Dylan. When Sean pushed his tongue into my mouth, I almost threw up. I scratched at his arms, pushed at him, slapped him. He didn’t stop. He spread my legs and forced himself on me.
At least he used a condom. That’s what I kept telling myself afterward, after he took me back home, and I told my stony-faced parents what happened. They didn’t believe me, or said they didn’t. Sean wouldn’t do something like that, they said, not if I didn’t want it.
The blame was on me, apparently, for flirting with him, making him believe I wanted him. The fact he violated me as I was drunk and passed out, when I pushed and clawed at him, that didn’t count.
Oh God, why am I remembering this now? I don’t wanna remember.
I stagger down the hallway, heading toward the cafeteria. I need to be around people, to drown in noise and let human voices drive the icy clutch of fear from my mind.
The familiar chatter fills my ears as soon as I step inside, and I grab a juice. As I wait to pay, I absently scan the tables. Wild hair, wilder clothes, outrageous make-up. Your typical college students.
Except the guy sitting alone at a table in a corner. No wild hair or clothes, and yet he snags my gaze, hooks me and reels me in. I study the familiar close-cropped blond hair, the beautiful profile, the powerful shoulders stretching his gray sweater.
Dylan.