I get off the phone with Tyler and immediately set out to find Andre. After what feels like hours, I see him in the kitchen. He’s leaning against a wall, his eyes fixed on a girl’s chest. I storm over to him and grab the collar of his shirt, dragging him away from the girl and out onto the patio with little effort.
I drop him onto the ground and he stares at me, incredulous.
“What the hell, man! I was about to get laid,” he huffs and hastily picks himself up—what a dick.
“So you go around posting pictures of me avoiding random girls now? Is that a thing you do now? Or did I miss the memo?” I growl.
Andre looks taken aback at my sudden outburst and takes a cautious step back from me.
“Yo, Lee, I didn’t mean anything by it. You weren’t even doing anything with them. What’s the issue?”
“The issue is that my girlfriend has no idea where I am and you’re posting pictures of me living it up with a bunch of fucking puck bunnies!” I yell at him, not caring who hears us. He knew what he was doing. I know that much. Andre always gets like this when he’s drinking. I have to remember that.
He snorts, smirking at me now. “That sounds like a great opportunity to me. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
“Do you not realize how much of an asshole you’re being right now?” I snap at him.
“You’ve never seemed to have an issue with it until now. Ava must have one tight pussy,” he scoffs.
The breath leaves my lungs, my vision turning red.
“I’m going to give you one chance to take that back and apologize. Otherwise, I’m going to shatter your jaw. You’re drunk, Andre. Go upstairs to bed.”
He throws his head back and laughs. He takes another step towards me, closing the gap between us.
“Ava must have one tight pussy—”
A sharp pain shoots up my arm when my fist connects with his jaw. He stumbles slightly, looking more shocked than hurt. He narrows his eyes at me and spits blood at my shoes.
“Go back inside and go to bed,” I plead. I don’t want to fight him but I won’t hesitate to wipe the smug grin off his face if he speaks her name again.
His fist connects with my eye before I even know what’s happening. I reel back and smack the back of my head against the brick wall. Pain travels down my body. My vision blurs, and my ears ring. It takes me a few moments to recover as I blink past the blood dripping steadily down my face and look around.
Andre’s gone.
“Fuck!” I shout into the empty backyard. I place my fingers tenderly on the lump forming on the back of my head, swaying slightly as I stand up straight and head back into the house. The heat hits me like a wave as soon as I get inside. I make a beeline for the bathroom.
I lock the door behind me and lean on the counter to stare at the large bruise forming around my eye. At least Andre was drunk. If he were sober my eye would be swollen shut by now. He’s got an even better arm than I do.
When I’m done cleaning myself off, I hurry out of the bathroom to make it out to my truck. Once again, I’m stopped by an old friend of mine.
“You’re not leaving already, are you? I’ve missed you,” Layla purrs in my ear. She grabs my bicep with her bony fingers, letting the long pointed nails dig into my skin. I shake my arm out of her grasp and pull away, trying to put some distance between us.
“I’m tired, and fed up, Layla. Leave me alone.”
“Just one drink, Lee-Lee? Then I’ll leave you alone,” she begs, inching closer to me.
“Don’t call me that,” I snap.
She rolls her eyes and bats her lashes at me. “Please, Oakley?” She holds out her cup and smiles warmly.
With a groan, I grab it and down it to get her to leave me alone. “Now I’m leaving,” I say firmly.
She grabs my wrist before I can slip away. Another girl with bright green eyes takes my other hand and stares up at me. I don’t even know who she is. Layla presses her body against mine.
“Just come sit with us for a few minutes.”
I shrink away from her and grimace when she leans up to nip my earlobe. I spin away from them and almost fall over. How much have I had to drink?
“No, Layla, I’m serious.”
“At least let me call you a cab. Let Brit help you over to the couch,” Layla coos.
I collapse onto a soft surface and wince when my head hits the wall behind me. I wrench my eyes open and groan. Familiar faces stare down at me, and I can’t make out a word they’re saying.
“Where am I?” I blurt out.
“God, how much did you have to drink?” “Where’s Andre?” I ask.
“Let’s not worry about him. I brought you the drink you asked for, handsome.” Someone sits on my lap and puts a heavy, glass bottle in my hand.
I take a long swig from it and cough away the burn in my throat. “What is this?” A sharp ringtone rings in my ears—my ringtone.
“Oakley’s phone,” Layla says in a singsong tone. I murmur something and try to reach for it, but I’m ignored.
I lie back in defeat, too tired to put up a fight. “No, no, Oakley! Wake up. Look who we found!”
I open my eyes and lean forward. I beg my eyes to focus on the guy standing across the room. I let out a low chuckle at the sight of my best friend. All of a sudden, my vision blurs. I can’t make out the figure coming towards me before the world goes black.
 |
It feels like a jackhammer is pounding my skull as soon as I wake up. I rub my temples in hopes of easing the pain, but it only worsens. I pass a hand over my eye and hiss in pain.
What the hell? I peel my eyes open and blink rapidly to clear my vision. Thankfully, I’m in my old bedroom—not a ditch. I pull myself out of bed and stumble into the bathroom.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror, open-mouthed. A large blue and purple bruise rings my left eye. I guess the pain makes sense now. I turn the tap on to see my bruised, cut knuckles.
Shit.
Andre. The fight last night flashes across my mind. Andre has said his fair share of shit things to me, but last night takes the cake. He knew what he was saying. And he knew how I would react.
The last thing I remember is Layla giving me her drink. It was most definitely laced with enough drugs to erase every memory of the night. Who even brought me home last night? How did I get into bed?
The sound of the doorbell echoes through the house. I hurry into my room to throw some sweatpants and a hoodie on. I toss my hood up to hide my eye and head downstairs. I open the door to a busted Andre. The purple shadows under his eyes stand out vividly against his sallow skin. I gesture for him to come upstairs, and he follows me into my room before standing awkwardly by the door.
“Hey,” he breathes, eyes on the carpet.
I sit down on my bed and raise my eyebrows. “What happened last night? Why did you guys drug me?” I demand, not wanting to beat around the bush.
His eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “I didn’t. I stopped it. I had no idea Layla was going to do something like that.”
I laugh mirthlessly. Andre stares bemused.
“Maybe if you weren’t such a prick, you would have been there to stop it before I was high out of my mind.”
He frowns and rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I know. I’m
sorry.”
I scoff at him and cross my arms. “Sorry isn’t going to fix anything.
You crossed a line, Andre. If you were anyone else, you wouldn’t be able to walk right now. I thought we were best friends, but apparently, I was wrong.”
coldly.
“I’ll make it up to you. I promise,” he says solemnly.
“Don’t. Just tell me who brought me home last night,” I tell him
He winces at my harsh tone but I brush it off. I don’t have the energy
to feel bad.
“Yeah…about that.”
If he drove me home drunk, I’ll punch him again. “What did you do? You didn’t drive, right?”
“No. Of course I didn’t. I, ugh, may have called your sister to come and get you,” he stammers.
I groan. “You what? I’m going to hear it now for sure,”
“I wasn’t about to send you home in a cab, so it was either her or your mom.”
“How did this even happen? Where did Layla get the drugs?” I ask, genuinely baffled by how she managed to get enough to knock me out cold.
“She’s been seeing a drug dealer from Kelowna. When I went back downstairs and saw you passed out on the couch with her in your lap, I lost it,” he spits out. I roll my eyes. “Oh, and before I forget.” He tosses me my phone. “It’s been blowing up all morning.”
A wave of anxiety and dread washes over me as I scroll through the missed calls and messages. Every text from Ava feels like a punch to the gut. Then I come across the messages about a picture. A deeply humiliating picture.
“What picture are they talking about?”
Andre’s face falls. “I’m sorry, man. If I had gotten downstairs a few seconds earlier…”
“What picture?” I demand through gritted teeth. “Layla sent it to Ava,” he mumbles.
I open my conversation with Ava and find the picture. My stomach churns. This is a disaster.
“No, no, no,” I groan and dial Ava’s number. It goes straight to voicemail. I keep trying, but it’s no use.
“She’ll forgive you. You just need to explain,” Andre says quietly. “You better hope you’re right about that.”
