I pinch my arm harder. I shouldn’t get enjoyment out of the terrible, degrading things he said to me. Or the way he looked at me like I was nothing, just a sorry piece of meat that he found wanting.
And I didn’t. Ididn’tlike it.
I don’t like that sort of thing. I don’t want it to happen again.
Ever.
Not even a little.
God. I need help.
Just when I convince myself Brody might have come to his senses and decided to drop out of school or transfer back to the Midwest, headlights swing into the lot. My breath hitches as Brody’s shitty blue hatchback pulls in.
Brody climbs out and rolls his shoulders back like he might be sore. His posture suggests that he’s tired, as if the weekend drained him as much as it did me. He grabs his duffel and starts towards the dorm.
I definitely do not scramble down the stairs to the main lobby and casually sit on one of the couches near the door. That would be ridiculous.
When our eyes meet, it shouldn’t come as a surprise. But I startle. He holds my gaze for three seconds, maybe four. Long enough that something tightens low in my gut.
Then he takes a step forward and opens his mouth like he might want to say something. And nope.
Nope. Nope. Nope.
I’m out of my seat before the thought finishes forming, knocking into his shoulder as I push past him and out of the building to sprint down the walkway that leads to Caty’s campus apartment.
I practically break her door down with the force of my knocking.
She opens it mid-sip of a Diet Coke, blinking at me as I fidget nervously in her doorway. “Jesus, Beck. Did you kill someone? Do I need to help you hide a body? You know there are people that you can pay to do that, right?”
“I need to talk,” I choke out.
She widens her eyes and steps aside. “Well, this should be good.”
I drop onto her sofa and bury my face in my hands. It takes a few deep breaths to get started, but once I do, the words pour out of me. I tell her everything. And I do mean everything—The stairwell, how he held me against the wall with his hand on my throat, the way I froze and didn’t fight back. The way my body reacted, the wayhereacted, and the way I’ve been spiraling ever since.
By the time I finish, Caty has tears streaming down her cheeks.
From laughing.
“Caty, this isn’t funny.”
“Oh, honey.” She wheezes, clutching her stomach. “It’shilarious.”
“Catyyyy,” I moan, burying my face in a throw pillow.
“Big, scary, uptight Captain Lincoln Beckett got manhandled by the guy you’ve been treating like shit for weeks, and youliked it.”
“I didn’t like it,” I snap.
“I do believe you just said, and I quote,I came so hard I nearly passed out and he didn’t even touch me. Babe, that means you liked it. You liked it a lot.”
I groan. “Why are you like this?”
She wipes a tear. “Well, we know why you’re like this.”
I glare.
“What? Beck, I’ve been your beard for two years. I could give a TED Talk about how your brain works and your fucked up family dynamics.”
