He shook his head. “Said there were only two… Speaking of your dad, how do you think he’d feel about us? I want to be as respectful as possible.”
I tilted my head to the side, thinking about my dad’s original response to my dating Tyler. He wasn’t a fan, but that had a lot to do with me being his youngest girl. After the messy break-up and my even messier behavior, I wasn’t sure he’d be keen on the idea of me dating another one of his players.
“He’s going to put you through the wringer,” I warned.
“I expected as much.” Dakota kissed the inside of my wrist. “I can take it.”
“Not just him though. Kai and Silas too. All three of them act like a shield that has been refortified each time some guy leaves me in pieces.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t plan on doing that to you. But you have complete permission to do so to me.” He smiled when I pouted at the thought. “Break my heart, Emmy. Rip me in two. Do whatever you need because even being yours for a moment makes the heartache worth it.”
“You’re a masochist.” I leaned close, rubbing my nose against his.
“I think you mispronounced hopeless romantic,” he joked. I laughed and fed him the last blueberry.
“So, Mr. Hopeless Romantic. I’m assuming it’s official, and I’m your girl for the foreseeable future.” I tried to sound casual when my palms felt sweaty at the mention of labels.
Dakota, ever gentle and ever easy, confirmed. “You’re my girl, Emmy.”
It was silly how those simple words made me feel so light. We were in middle school all over again, expressing dorky feelings of crushing and pining. Dakota looked as casual as I wanted to feel when he said the words. When our eyes met, I knew deep down he felt the same excited nervousness I did.
I liked this part of us the best. The part where we could make each other feel so special. We both pretended like our hearts weren’t simultaneously melting for one another.
Chapter 30
I’dfinallynippedmyprocrastination in the bud. For the night, I’d bunkered down in the school’s digital arts building to use the editing software in the computer lab. The lab barely had anyone in it so I got to claim a prime spot facing the windows. With coffee and honey buns, I downloaded my footage and got to work.
It only took a few minutes to get into the groove of editing. I had five interviewees total. Though their stories of assault and abuse were different, there were common threads. After watching all the interviews from beginning to end, I felt renewed motivation to share their experiences.
My stomach twisted with nerves as I began worrying about my editing choices. Was I cutting away too quickly from one clip to the next? That could make the film feel like it wasn’t being respectful toward each one of the subjects. Did I linger on one person too long? When my second interviewee, a girl who quit track because a personal trainer guilted her into a secret relationship, teared up on the screen she needed more than a few seconds to compose herself.
I chewed on my nail as I watched Ari square her shoulders on my screen. She kept direct eye contact with the camera. Her interview had been the longest and most steady when it came to emotion. She spoke without falter, telling a story she later explained had been told a multitude of times.
“He was my old neighbor and a college student. I was in ninth grade,” she said. “Currently, he’s a basketball player who’s in the NBA. So, as you can expect, basketball season sucks.
She swallowed before continuing. “I visited his campus, and he wanted to show me around. Said he knew all the best spots. The quiet spots. We ended up in his dorm with one of his friends. Both guys were star players. No one wanted to hear about them holding down a fourteen-year-old and forcing her to have sex. The coaches talked to my parents. Everyone decided it was best for us to forget it. Which is obviously easy when you’re not the one who experienced it.”
I paused the video there and puffed out my cheeks before letting a breath out. It was important I get through this but God, it was difficult to know there was nothing I could do to change what happened to the girl on the other side of the lens.
Since my mind was running in what felt like a million different directions, I felt it was time for a break. I headed downstairs to the first floor where the vending machines were. The sun had dipped under the horizon a few minutes ago. I started to feel a bit tired looking out at the night sky. A caffeine boost would do me good right about now.
Most of the machines on the first floor were empty. I managed to find a rogue machine shoved into a corner outside. I swiped my card and typed in the number for ginger ale. The scent of a burning cigarette tickled my nose as I reached down to grab the drink. I sniffed at the smell and glanced over my shoulder to find the source. Lawrence Griffin leered in the shadows like some fucking film-noir cop. He chuckled when I didn’t offer him much more of a reaction besides a raised brow.
“Never could scare you,” he sighed while shaking his head.
Oh, he could, and he had. But if I learn anything from being his girlfriend for three months, it was not to give him any sign of weakness.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
He looked like he had when we were teens. The only thing new was his thick, dark beard that covered the bottom half of his face well. His brown hair still sported an unruly cut and his shoulders were still broad enough to block a doorway. He wore a thick gray sweater and dress pants. If I didn’t know him, I might have assumed he was a grad student or professor.
“Missed you,” he said with a shrug. “When I finally got to Amber U, you were gone. That’s because of Tyler, right? You’re welcome by the way.”
I frowned and offered him a clipped, “Thanks.”
Somehow, someway, Lawrence knew about Tyler before I had. That was one of his best talents, figuring out people’s secrets. I hadn’t seen him for a couple of years when his text came through. In the heat of the moment, I blocked his number as I dealt with everything else.
“You know, you could have called me. I would have helped you take care of him,” he said. He could sense I was on edge from the way I held onto myself. The cold drink in my hand suddenly felt so not worth the trouble.
