Hate to Love You

Um. I heard you were raped. Were you?

Was that a decent start for this conversation? No. That didn’t seem right. “Uh . . .” Kristina was going for social work. She was nice and sensitive. I should’ve dropped this on her lap to deal with. It was too late for that. “Okay. This is—weird for me, but I have a brother who goes here. I don’t know if you knew that.”

Her eyebrows smoothed out, arching slightly. “No. I didn’t know that. Wait.” They pulled back together. “Not Gage Clarke?”

Fuck. She knew my last name. I nodded. “Yeah. Gage.”

“We partied with him Sunday night. I had no idea he was your brother, but”—her eyes narrowed and she nodded to herself—“yeah, I can totally see it now. You guys look just like each other.”

And speaking of Sunday . . .

I coughed. A lot of phlegm was in my throat. “Um, okay.” I put my legs down, rubbing my palms over them. They were suddenly sweaty. “What do you remember from that night?” Wait. Did she not even know herself? Was I going to be the one to tell her?

Maybe I shouldn’t do it then. If that were the case, maybe I should make a pathetic excuse and talk more to Gage, get more facts before I said anything. Yeah. That felt more right. I was more comfortable with that.

Then she murmured, her eyes flooding with tears, “You know, don’t you.”

My throat stopped working. That hadn’t been a question.

Her head hung down, and her hands reached for the bottom of her shirt. She balled it into her fists. “I can’t believe you know.”

My voice was just as soft as hers. “So, it’s true.”

Her head lifted, just a little bit. “Yeah.”

She was raped. Gage told me, but a part of me hoped it wasn’t true.

I had no clue what to do now.

I scooted off the chair. I didn’t want to assail her, but getting closer, a little below her felt like the right thing to do. I looped my hands together, pulling my feet together with my legs flat against the carpet. “Uh . . . What happened?”

“You don’t know?” She glanced up, wiping at a tear.

I shook my head. “I was just told there’s a rumor.”

“There’s a rumor?” A sob left her, a slight note of hysteria blending with it. She began rocking herself back and forth. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Hey!” Laura knocked abruptly on the door. “Can I come in? What’s going on?”

Panic flitted over Casey’s face. “No. They can’t come in. They don’t know.”

I rose and locked the door swiftly. “Um, just give us a second. We . . . uh . . . ” I looked back to Casey. She was watching me with pleading eyes. My heart broke. If it’d been me—my resolve hardened. “I’m, um, I’m thinking about losing my virginity.” I backed away from the door. “It’s extremely private and personal, and embarrassing, and I’d really like as much privacy as possible. Thank you.”

Would that work?

I added, biting my bottom lip, “And don’t tell anyone about this. Oh, and Casey might have to talk to me about this at times. Just so you know. I am going to do it, so, yeah . . .” I raised a finger to the door, trying to sound convincing. “Don’t try to change my mind.”

“Um. Okay. We’re heading up. Casey, can you hear me?”

Casey cleared her throat, too. “Yeah. I’ll be up later.”

Once Laura left, Casey snorted into quiet laughter. She shook her head, wiping at some of her tears. “You’re the worst liar in the world.”

She’d be surprised.

I shrugged, taking my seat again, but an inch closer. “They’ll bug you later. You can tell them anything you want. I’m sure they bought it.”

“Thank you.”

My gaze met hers. I found myself nodding again. “Yeah.” My heart plunged once more. Back to the real topic. “I’m sorry about what happened to you.”

She picked at the bottom of her jeans. “Yeah. Well. What can you do about it?”

Everything.

That word stuck in my throat.

I reached forward and touched her hand, stopping her from pulling a whole thread from her pants. She didn’t look up. “You can say something.”

She didn’t move.

I licked my lips. They were so dry they almost hurt. “I don’t know the details. I don’t know what happened, or who it was, but my brother called me and told me he heard a rumor you were raped.” I paused. My heart was beating so hard. “The rumor wasn’t saying that a guy slept with you. It wasn’t saying you were a whore, a slut, or an easy lay. He didn’t say that someone scored with you. Whatever he heard was enough for him to call me because he was worried it would happen to me, too.”

She pulled her hand away, but not far.

“I talked to someone about someone I knew who was raped, but I didn’t say it was you.”

Her head lifted, and her eyes were full of alarm.

I repeated, “I didn’t say it was you. And this person doesn’t know we’re friends. He won’t figure it out.”

“He?”

“It wasn’t my brother.”

“Oh.” She went back to picking at her jeans.

She was so silent.

Was this how it was supposed to be? Was I supposed to do something else? Were there fucking cue cards for this?

“I haven’t told anyone else.”

She looked back up again.

“I’m here. If you want to talk, whatever. Hug. Cry. Scream. I’d rob an ice cream shop with you if you wanted.”

She started to laugh.

“No, really. I would. That should have its own square in the food pyramid as far as I’m concerned. They lump it in with dairy, but it should be on its own. It’s the best food invention of all time.”

Her laughter rose, and she flicked away a couple tears. “Thank you for that.”

“For what?”

A third bout of laughter. I frowned. She thought I was joking. This was a problem.

“Thank you.” She reached forward. Her hand covered mine. “I mean it. Thank you.”

“Okay.” I was still frowning. “I’m not joking about the ice cream. I’m really not.”

“I know.” The laughter subsided, but a few chuckles escaped. “And that means a lot—that you’d break in somewhere for me.”

“Burglary. Breaking in is just that, breaking in. Burglary is breaking in with the intent to steal, and my intent would be to steal ice cream. By the gallons, if I could.” Fuck. “Do you want to do that right now? I could figure out a way to break into the cafeteria. That wouldn’t be burglary because we already have a right to that ice cream. We’d just be breaking in.”

“No.” She shook her head. “But thank you. It does mean a lot.”

“Okay.” Just as long as she knew. “Do you . . . are you okay?” I was an idiot. “No. That’s the wrong question. I’m not good with this stuff.”

“No. You’re actually being fantastic.” Her head hung low again.

“Okay.”

Kristina would know what to say if she were here. Or Shay. Linde, for sure. What would Gage say? He’d know. He was someone I could channel. I ran through all the jokes he might say, but he wouldn’t. He’d be nice. He’d be kind. He’d say the perfect thing.

I should’ve had him come.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for that, but I’m here.”

I let out another deep breath and just sat there. What else could I do? Then, after a few minutes of silence, she reached out. She didn’t look at me. She didn’t get up and leave. She just sat there and she cried and she held my hand.

I would’ve sat forever if she wanted me to.

“Clarke.”

I was walking to class the next morning when Shay hurried his pace to catch up. He gestured to an empty sidewalk around the side of the building, and I went with him. We moved farther away to an abandoned set of stairs that led off the left side of the building. It was rarely used because there was nothing it led to, just a patch of grass and trees all around. I had a guess what Shay was going to talk about, and for that, it was perfect. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">