The Hate Between Us, page 22
I clamped my hands together, sucking in a shaky breath. If it weren’t for Jason, I didn’t know how I would’ve handled this.
“We should get going,” he said, picking up his backpack, and I nodded.
“Thank you for helping me,” I said once we were on our way away from the darkness of the locker room, the overhead lights seeming too bright to my eyes.
He folded his arms over his chest, and my eyes snagged on the delectable ridges of his biceps. “You don’t have to thank me. Anyone with common decency would do the same.”
He was saying it so matter-of-factly, like it wasn’t important, but it was, and I struggled to come to grips with Jason helping me with anything. He was my enemy, but he hadn’t hesitated for a second to help me.
I stared down the empty corridor, but all I saw was him guiding me through my panic. The heat of his firm hand. The assurance in his simmering eyes.
I licked my lips. “I’m really not crazy.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because of what just happened. I mean, that did look weird and so embarrassing—”
“That’s bullshit,” he growled, hinting that I’d struck a chord. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
My heart fluttered. Ever since the accident, all he’d shown me was ugliness, so much so that I’d had a hard time believing there was ever anything good in him to begin with. It had been so easy to believe he was rotten to the core.
But then there were moments like now when it was so hard to remember why I should keep up my guard in front of him—why relaxing would be a mistake.
“How did you know how to help me?”
“Because I used to do that a lot with Car—” he stopped abruptly, as if he’d just realized what he was about to say. “I just knew.”
Caroline. So, she’d had a lot of panic attacks.
My stomach churned. It was bad enough to have panic attacks as often as I did, but how bad was it for her, combined with the other symptoms of PTSD?
How bad was it for both siblings?
Now I understood why he’d asked me about flashbacks; Caroline probably had them, so he recognized the signs.
I bit my lip. I wanted to ask him about their car accident and if it had left emotional scars on him, but of course I couldn’t.
“You were really helpful. Usually, it takes me much longer to pull out of it.”
He didn’t say anything as we reached the foyer. Something indecisive played across his face until he finally decided to break the silence. “Do you often have panic attacks?”
I blinked, then stopped. He stopped as well, turning to look at me with arms folded over his chest.
“I have them from time to time. When it gets overwhelming.”
“What gets overwhelming?”
“Life.”
His eyes held mine. The silence around us stretched. I couldn’t swallow.
“Does anyone help you with them?” he asked, barely audible.
Emotion clogged my chest. My gaze dropped to my hands.
I had my parents and Dylan, but they couldn’t provide real help. No one could. No one could put a bandage on the cut that was my depression and teach me how to live life—how to find myself. How to shut down dark, toxic thoughts. I was only beginning to glimpse the other side, the brighter side.
“It’s hard to help someone who feels lost inside.”
He shifted an inch closer, carrying a strange emotion in his eyes that disarmed me entirely. I should stay away from him. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop looking at him and wishing I could finally step into his world.
“You—” he started.
The front doors opened, and in stormed my mom. Damn it.
“Oh, thank God, you’re okay!” Her hair was in disarray, worry lines carving deep paths through her face.
“Mom.”
“Did something happen? I was so worried when I called you and you didn’t answer.”
Right. My phone. With Jason next to me, I’d forgotten it was still in my locker.
“Nothing happened. I . . .” I couldn’t tell her about what had happened in the locker room or the panic attack. She was already too worried about me as it was. “I just needed more time to change after PE, that’s all.”
She nodded and looked at Jason.
“Hello, Mrs. Turner.”
“Jason,” she said gingerly and looked between us. “You two were together?” She made it sound like I’d been hanging out with Jason and had just given her an excuse to cover that.
“No, we just happened to meet each other in the hallway,” I was quick to say. “And since we were going the same way . . . you know.”
“I have to go,” Jason told me. “See you tomorrow.”
My stomach stirred. “See you.”
“Goodbye, Mrs. Turner.”
Mom waved at him in response and he left. My stomach clenched as I watched him leave, my eyes sliding down his wide, muscle-corded back to his perfectly round ass.
We went to my locker so I could grab my phone first, and we almost collided with Jimmy there, who was going in a different direction. His brows dipped low when he saw me, then his eyes darted to my mom. My stomach knotted when I thought about our conversation last week. How easily he’d gotten angry.
Before I could even start coming up with excuses not to talk with him, he looked away and left without a word, like he didn’t know me. Good riddance.
Mom and I reached the minivan, and she let down the ramp for me to enter. “Are you and Jason friends now?”
My eyes whipped to her. “Friends?”
“Seeing that you’re the leads in the play and spending time together practicing.”
“I wouldn’t say we’re friends, no.”
“How does he treat you during rehearsals? Well?”
I almost told her no, but then I thought about what he’d just done for me.
I settled on the half-truth. “He tolerates me.”
“That boy took his sister’s accident really hard.” I knew she was referring to him showing up at my hospital room, full of hostility, and also his behavior in court, where his hateful gaze had followed me too keenly and intrusively. “It would be good if you two could find common ground and get past your differences.”
“That’s Ms. Holloway’s plan, too.”
Mom strapped my chair to the floor and slid the side door closed. She sat behind the wheel.
I cleared my throat. “Jason and I have these scenes . . . where we have to hug and kiss.”
“I see. Have you kissed already?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
My cheeks flamed. It was hard to say how strongly his kiss had affected me. Not only hard—it was also very awkward.
I’d never talked with Mom about my sexual function after the accident. Even before, sex hadn’t been a topic we frequently visited, but after the accident, it was like it didn’t even exist. So, I couldn’t tell her I’d been afraid I’d lost the ability to get aroused or experience orgasm and that I was now confused because not only could I get aroused, but the sensation could also be very intense.
“It was good. He’s a good kisser.”
She chuckled, her gaze on the road.
My hands twisted in my lap. “And it felt a little too real. Like he wasn’t acting.”
She gave me a look in the rearview mirror. “But he was? Acting?”
“Yes.”
My voice didn’t sound that convincing, but she didn’t question it. “I see there’s something else that bothers you.”
“It’s just that my body overreacts when he’s touching me. I keep telling myself it’s all just acting, but . . .”
She didn’t take her gaze off the road as she contemplated my words. “I’m sure you feel uncomfortable about it, but don’t be ashamed of the way your body reacts. It can happen to anyone.”
I scrunched up my nose. “Don’t placate me, Mom.”
“I’m not. I’m just saying it’s only natural when you’re having physical contact with someone. Even if you’re acting.”
“Well, it sucks.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, okay? I’m sure you’ll get used to it as time passes.”
My lips remained shut. I couldn’t tell her part of the problem was that Jason was so confusing and sending me mixed signals. I wanted to believe it was all just acting, but it was hard when he came with lots of ups and downs.
She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel once, twice. Then she looked at me. “Katie, if you want to talk about sex or intimacy, I’m here.”
I groaned. “Ugh, no, Mom. So weird.”
“It’s not weird. I’m sure there’s someone you like and that you would like to . . . try out things. Or if not now then soon.”
This was getting weirder and weirder by the second.
“Mom, I’m not going to talk about that with you.” Especially when that someone in question was none other than Jason Adams.
It’s not as if we would get intimate for real any time soon. Any time this century, more like it.
“Okay. I won’t push. But if you want to talk to me about anything, just say the word. It can help.”
Biting my lip, I nodded, thinking how intimacy wasn’t my biggest issue.
Maybe she could help me deal with intimacy, but who could help me with protecting my heart from falling for Jason again?
“Be quiet. It’s going to be alright.”
The voice was close. Too close.
“It’s going to be alright.”
The voice was saying more, but I couldn’t hear it. Everything else was silent, dark. Where was I? Where was that voice coming from?
Terror filled me. Everywhere I turned, there was only darkness.
A sidewalk spread out in front of me. The stars above me twinkled. Twinkled and twinkled until they were replaced by two flashes of light. Then a car horn filled my ears. Then again.
Pain penetrated through me before I could process anything, and I was sent flying, landing on the ground. There was only pain. And then nothing.
I waited and waited.
A voice reverberated through the darkness. A voice . . . Jason’s voice.
“How much longer?”
I looked everywhere around me, trying to find him, but there was only darkness.
“How much longer what, Jason?” I couldn’t see him anywhere. “How much longer what?”
“How much longer are you going to hide from the truth?”
“What truth?” No answer. “Jason, what truth?”
There was nothing, and it was crushing in its certainty, leaving despair and endless pain.
I snapped my eyes open, my breaths coming out fast. My room was too dark, and I stretched my arm out in panic toward the lamp, turning it on after the third try. What the hell? What the hell was going on?
My hands shaky, I rolled to my side and grabbed the notebook from my nightstand. I flipped past the page where I’d described what had happened in the locker room and started jotting down this new nightmare, my heart unable to stop pounding hard. I’d just got a new piece of the puzzle, but it didn’t fit anywhere.
“Be quiet. It’s going to be alright.”
These words alone were enough to fill me with a coldness that I just couldn’t shake, but they weren’t what scared me the most.
“How much longer are you going to hide from the truth?”
What truth?
I didn’t understand. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t push through that wall of darkness and gain a full picture.
I closed the notebook and inhaled a deep breath, my cheeks wet with tears. I turned on some music to help me fall asleep. I sank deep under my covers as Alanis Morissette started singing and finally let myself replay the memory of Jason looking at me in the locker room once I’d calmed down.
His closeness and his eyes that had seen too much of me . . . yet it wasn’t enough.
I was keyed up about meeting Jason again. The library was still closed and the weather was bad, so I wasn’t sure where we were going to go. My hands fidgeted in my lap as I waited for him in front of the library, growing clammy when he came around the corner, looking undeniably confident and at the top of his game as always.
I swallowed as I slowly took in his appearance. He was dressed in a white sweatshirt and black ripped jeans with two chains hanging off the side. His thumbs were hooked in his pockets, the veins twining from his strong knuckles up his hand and wrist. Silky, unruly strands of his hair touched upon his arched brow. I had the urge to run my fingers through them.
His eyes made their own trek over me as he crossed the space between us, his gaze almost palpable in its intensity. My heart rate kicked up, beating to the memory of the look in his eyes when he’d seen my breasts.
Had I imagined it? Had that really been desire in his eyes? Or had he thought my breasts were too small and nothing special, if he’d thought anything at all?
My cheeks heated as he stopped in front of me, and I blurted out the first thing that came to mind just so he wouldn’t guess my thoughts. “The library is still closed.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“What are we going to do? It’s supposed to start raining soon, so we can’t go back to Silver Lake.”
“We can go to my place.”
Whoa. His place?
“We can?” My voice sounded too squeaky, like it didn’t belong to me.
He smirked, amusement dancing in his eyes. “My dad’s not home, so we’ll be able to rehearse without anyone interrupting us.”
My mind worked in overdrive. It was coming up with a dozen excuses not to go to his place, but they were all beaten down by the simple truth—I wanted to see it. I wanted that glimpse into his life and who he was.
So I nodded and followed him to the parking lot, hoping my face didn’t reveal my thoughts.
The sky was a shade of gray. Jason’s Equinox beeped when he unlocked it with his key fob, and he opened the door for me.
“Are you okay today?” he asked.
Butterflies erupted in my belly. Was he worried about me?
“Yeah, I’m fine. More like confused as to what happened.”
He nodded. I transferred into the passenger seat and put on the seat belt while I waited for him to put my chair in the trunk. He slid into his seat and closed the door.
“I talked to the janitor about the lights going out in the locker room.”
I tilted my head. What? “Why?”
He looked straight ahead, hiding his face from me as he put on his seat belt. “Does it matter?”
“You didn’t have to, Jason. We’re not friends.”
His eyes swung back to me with a strange look. “I know. I just wanted to.”
My heart surged in my chest. “You also don’t have to pity me. If that’s why you did it.”
His gaze narrowed. “Do you always have to assume the worst about me?”
I closed my mouth, glancing away.
“It appears someone turned off the breaker switch.”
“So, the electricity was off on purpose?”
“Yeah. And the janitor has no clue how someone got into the utility room. He’s the only one who has the keys.”
“Maybe someone stole them from him?”
“Or ‘borrowed’ them, since he had the keys when we talked.” He shrugged. “That doesn’t explain why someone did that.”
“Maybe it was a prank.”
“Maybe. But were you the intended victim?”
I looked off into the distance, thinking about the other girls who were in PE. Maybe this “prank” or whatever it was had been intended for someone else, but the lights went out after all the other girls were gone. I’d always left the locker room last. Someone must’ve known this if they were targeting me.
I shivered. But why?
Jimmy’s face flashed in my mind, and I frowned. No, he couldn’t have had anything to do with it. Seeing him after the locker room was just a coincidence. Why would he even do something like that? I didn’t like him, but was that enough of a reason for him to do that?
“Anyway, thank you for talking with the janitor. I really appreciate it.”
He smirked. “It’s nice that you know how to be grateful.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Hey! I’m not ungrateful.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“What do you want me to do? Beg for your forgiveness?”
“I want you to be careful. You shouldn’t be alone in the locker room from now on.”
My heart did all sorts of jumps in my chest. My eyes started a journey down the sharp lines and sleek hollows of his cheekbones to his velvet lips before I could catch myself. I was gawking, and he’d just witnessed every second of it.
I whipped my head away, chewing my lip. “Be careful, Jason. Or you’ll sound like you’re worried about me.”
“What I’m worried about is your performance, or did you forget?”
“How could I? You like reminding me every so often, Mr. Perfect Actor.” I had to bite my lip so I wouldn’t grin, but then I glanced at him and lost the battle. His eyes dropped to my lips, and then he was smiling back. For a moment, watching him was all I could do.
Then he turned to start the engine, and I had to remind myself not to stare at him as he pulled out of the parking lot. Three Days Grace played from the car stereo, filling the silence during our journey.
The sky had darkened to an angry gray by the time Jason turned onto his street, distant peals of thunder growing louder and louder. He pulled up in front of a one-story house with a tiny yard and an exterior that matched the weather—equally grim and unwelcoming. It was clear that no one bothered with upkeep on the property, leaving it to fall prey to deterioration.
Jason didn’t say anything, but judging by the turn of his lips and rigid moves as he got out of his car, he wasn’t indifferent to what I might think of his house. That, and he avoided eye contact.
He needn’t have felt uneasy, because I didn’t care about how rundown or low-income his house was. The only thing I cared about was how accessible it was, and things didn’t look promising on that front. Anxiety kicked up low in my belly as I studied the front porch. There was no way I could enter without his help, which meant . . .
