They settle me in my room, but when Kelly takes off her shoes and pulls back the comforter, I attempt to pull myself together. “No,” I whisper, shaking my head and holding back tears. “Go. I’ll be okay,” I lie.
“I’m not leaving you like this,” she protests.
“Sandrine is on her way home,” Todd announces, hovering in the doorway.
“Take her.” I beseech him with my eyes. “I’ll be fine until Mom arrives.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Kelly implores, but she’s wavering, thoughts of her romantic getaway no doubt at the back of her mind.
“I … I need to be alone.” I raise my red-rimmed eyes to hers. “Please, Kelly. I just need to be alone.” Conflict rages across her face. I slip my hand in hers. “Please go. Enjoy your weekend. I will talk to you on Monday.”
“But—”
I shake my head, pinning her with a warning look as I sink deeper into my bed.
Eventually, after persuasion from Todd, they leave.
I remove my cell with shaking hands, tapping out the text, hoping Alex replies quickly.
I’m pulling my tennis shoes on when her response appears in my inbox.
I look at the address, grateful it’s not too far away.
I don’t remember grabbing my jacket or leaving the house.
I don’t remember racing through the busy Boston streets, pushing past people in my haste to get there.
I don’t feel the rain dropping on my head, dampening my cheeks, and blurring my eyes.
I don’t remember falling and cutting my hands or tearing a hole through one knee of my jeans.
I don’t remember the utter panic when I reach the place and no one is home or slumping against the glass-fronted entrance doors, plopping onto my butt, and burying my head in my hands.
I only have one repetitive thought that has been with me from the minute that monster appeared on that stage.
I need Keanu.
4
Keanu
Kent is relaying a very graphic account of his threesome from Saturday night as we walk from Harvard toward home after a long day of classes. All week I’ve shut him down when he’s attempted to explain, but I give up. He won’t relent until he tells me everything. I zone him out, nodding and smirking every so often so it appears like I’m listening.
But I’m preoccupied. With thoughts of Selena. Not that that’s anything unusual, but since that shit went down with Rivera and Travis last weekend, I’m fixated on finding a way to win back her heart. There’s got to be something I can do, to make her realize what we had was too good to throw away.
“Who is—Shit!”
Kent’s voice breaks through to me, and I flick my eyes to him. “What?”
He scrubs a hand over his prickly jaw. “Look.” He jerks his head toward the front door of our building, and I drop my bag, running toward her before I’ve even realized it.
I scale the steps two at a time, crouching down in front of my ex. My eyes run over her quickly, checking for obvious signs of injury. Her dirty, torn jean-clad knees are tucked into her chest, and her arms are wrapped around herself. Her head is resting on top of her knees, her white-blonde hair covering her face. But it doesn’t matter. I would know my love anywhere. “Selena. Baby,” I say in a soft tone. I want to reach out, to touch her, but I don’t want to startle her or freak her out.
She doesn’t hear me, mumbling to herself as she rocks back and forth. Pain slams into me like a freight train. I’d like to say this is the first time I’ve seen her like this, but that’d be a lie. It kills me to see her like this again, and I hate to think what has caused her to have such a break.
“What’s going on?” Kent asks in a deliberately low tone, looming over me, carrying both our bags on his shoulders, with a frown on his face.
Selena’s rocking picks up pace, and her mumbling grows louder. “I need Keanu. I need Keanu. I need Keanu.” She’s repeating it like a mantra, over and over again.
