“And then I sat on the girl giving Jett a blow job, and he talks to me, and I knew as soon as he looked at me, he had no idea who I was.”
“What a jerk!” Mia tsked as she listened.
“And then he was here that same night.”
Again, I was dislodged from her shoulder as she looked at me in question. “How?”
“I couldn’t sleep because of . . . him. So, I went outside, and as I was trying to cool down, he appeared like a bad fairy.”
“The night the generator died?”
“Yeah.” I glanced at her once and grimaced. “It was Jett who got it fixed.”
Mia’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh,” was all she said as she looked at me before taking another sip of her drink.
“I didn’t want to talk about it, and I thought I may never have to,” I admitted as I shifted uncomfortably on the couch.
“I understand.”
“You do?” I asked hopefully.
“Not really, but I want to.” Her hand made thecarry onmotion, so I did.
“Then later that day, Ben Kowoski hit me on the head with a football, and I met Jett again!” I rubbed my head where he’d hit me, and I sat straighter on the couch. “We agreed to never talk again.” I frowned as I thought about it. “I think. But then I saw him at the bar, and then the party after and . . .” I trailed off.
“And today?”
“Well, I knew he was injured, and you and Wade seemed to think the girl who ‘stole’ from him was the reason, and I’ve beentrying to work up the courage to talk to him. But I didn’t hurt him, that Friday, that is.”
“Friday? You hurt him another time?” Mia asked me curiously.
“I kneed him in the balls and kicked him in the ribs today.”
“Ava!” Mia’s hand was once more over her mouth in shock.
“I know, I’m a terrible person.” As my hands rubbed the back of my neck, I hung my head before I thought about it more. “Actually, screw that, I’m not. He is.”
Mia nodded, but she looked uncertain. “How does he not remember you?”
“Oh, Mia, that’s the worst part.”
“How?” Mia asked in surprise.
“Because someone drugged him, and he thinks it was me!”
I felt the tears well, and Mia looked at me in confusion before she was on her feet, pacing. “So, you don’t remember him, he doesn’t remember you, and both of you don’t really remember the night?”
“I think so,” I sniffled. “Well, I’m remembering some of it, the . . . you know.”
Mia stopped her pacing as she looked at me. “Could you both have been drugged?”
“I was drunk. That’s why I don’t remember.”
“But were you?” Mia sat back down beside me, her hands reaching out to take mine. “Sweetie, you both could be victims of a horrible,horribleprank.”
“I don’t even know how I met him.” I leaned forward, my arms wrapping around myself. “If I knew where and how, I’m sure I would remember more.”
“And he knows you don’t know?” Mia asked me.
