I got some interesting information tonight, and you’re going to want to hear it.
Grayson.
Fine. Where are you?
Me:
I can’t right this second. I’ll come to your room when I’m finished.
Grayson:
Fine. Don’t keep me waiting long. You know how I get.
Me:
I’ll see you in an hour.
Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I pick up my sketch pad and finish what I’m drawing. I still don’t get it. Why wouldn’t she remember? Was she drinking that night? Could that guy have druggedher, which would make sense as to why she doesn’t remember? Did he come back after we left?What the fuck?
thirteen
Grayson Mercer
Accusations
Sitting on my bed, I light up some Velm as I wait for Kade to grace me with his presence. What could he possibly need to talk to me about that has to do with Rowyn? I hate fucking waiting. Why he couldn’t just tell me in a text is beyond me. He’s always so fucking difficult.
Taking a pull, I hold it, then exhale when a knock hits my door. Getting up, I walk over, open it, and let Kade in. He steps inside, and I pass him the prerolled. He takes a pull, and I raise a brow, waiting for him to start speaking. But he keeps smoking, and I grit my teeth.For fuck’s sake with the theatrics.
“Well?” I ask, and he laughs.
“Chill out. Let me get my head right because this is a mind fuck.” He laughs again, making me huff. “Alright, alright. Take this. And fuckinghit it for the love of God. When was the last time you got laid?” he questions as I take the prerolled from him and roll my eyes, ignoring his pestering existence.
“Still fucking waiting,” I snarl, and he laughs, pulling out my desk chair and plopping onto it.
“I heard that Rowyn doesn’t remember the night at the bonfire,” he says, and I sit on the edge of my bed and fold my arms.
“How?” I ask, because that makes no sense.
“Not sure, but she has a bruise on her face and the guy that we scared off apparently drugged her and tried to rape her,” he says, and I laugh.
“How does one try and not succeed?” I ask, and he shrugs.
“Don’t have the answer to that, but how can she not remember?”
“What else was said? I feel like we are missing pieces to the puzzle,” I say, taking another hit and passing it to him.
“She and Misti went to the game, which we know. Then the bonfire again, we know. But that's it. The guy she was with. His name is Mike and he doesn’t go here or any other college for that matter,” he tells me, and I nod.
“Okay, but if she was almost raped, then how did she get back to the dorm? Someone else was there? So whoever told you this crazy story is a liar. We were there,” I spit, and he nods.
“No shit. But what if I told you it came from her lips? She’s the one who told me this story,” he says, and I raise a brow.
“What were you doing with her?” I question, because what the fuck? And why would she be with him after what we did to her in the woods?
“Do those details really matter? No. They don’t. What matters is—this story doesn’t make sense, and she’s left with a bruise on her face that neither of us caused. We didn’t even touch her,” he says, and I take a deep breath.
“Where’s Elliot? Maybe he can do some digging? I don’t have time for this shit!” I growl, and he shrugs.
