I can’t see.
Who did this? Is he still nearby?
There’s a sickeningly sweet scent. I drag the neck of my shirt over my eyes and face, terrified I won’t be able to see.
My vision is blurred for a moment, but blinking helps clear it. The sting continues. I think about the acid attacks on Muslim girls and freak out. I look around wildly, but the only person I see is a jogger in a hoody sprinting down the path away from me.
I drop to my knees, dig a half empty water bottle from my bag and dump it over my head. Then I use the dry bottom edge of my shirt to wipe my eyes and face over and over. My vision clears, and the stinging goes away.
I’m shaky and disoriented as I wobble to my feet.Jesus Christ.
I look around again, but I don’t spot a sneering aggressor anywhere nearby. There are just normal-looking people who watch me curiously. I’m half-drenched, and I must look wild with my smeared makeup and matted hair.
I move quickly to the bus stop, still trying to process what happened.
The jogger wasn’t carrying a bucket. I’m not even sure he was the one who threw the liquid at me. It wasn’t a big splash though. I wonder whether it may have been from a squirt gun.
What’s that smell?
I touch my face. It itches slightly but doesn’t sting or burn now. I pull my shirt up and sniff. Then I recognize the lingering scent.
Oh, God. Roses.
8
SHANE
Her last class has been over for a while, and the sun’s setting. I scowl as I look out the window. The whole point of her living here is so she won’t be a target after dark. What’s she doing screwing around on campus this late?
I fire off a text.
Shane:Where are you?
I tellmyself it’s not my problem if she’s being reckless. That’s her goddamned M.O., after all. She was at the fucking Beta House frat party all alone after dark, too.
I glance at the clock, and then catch myself pacing. Fuck this. If she’s not back in ten minutes, I’ll go to campus to get her. And if I have to go, she’s going to be punished for it. At that thought, temptation snakes through me. Below the belt. My lust for this girl is endless, against my better angels.
Finally, I spot her coming up the walkway. I’m both relieved and pissed.
She opens the door and stomps in and right past me.
My eyes don’t miss that her hair’s damp, loose and matted to one side of her face, and her shirt’s wet. It’s stretched, too, like someone tried to tear it off.
What the fuck?
I follow her up the stairs. She reeks of sickeningly sweet perfume.
“What the hell happened to you?”
“What do you care?”
On the upstairs landing, I grab her arm and turn her to face me. “Answer me.”
“Let go!” she screams.
She’s only ever screamed at me one other time in our lives. The time she wanted me to turn around because she was naked. Screeching is not typical of Avery, so it gives me pause.
“Hey,” I say in a low voice, trying to instill some calm. “Lower your voice, and tell me what happened.”
