When the Heart Falls(108)

I pause, staring at the door to Winter’s room as if I could see through it. She and her roommate went out; I heard them leave. Her pale face and eyes the color of a frozen lake, haunt me. Eyes filled with tears when that * stepped on her small hand, so delicate. I held it as it turned blue, swelling in pain.

Pulling myself from her door, I hunt the hallway looking for Rodney. I don’t know what their history is, and I don’t care. No one deserves to be treated that way. I’ve seen guys like him before, known them all my life, and I’ve never backed down from putting jerks like him in their place.

I’m not about to start today.

It’s not because of the girl, I’m sure of that. She’s beautiful, sure. And funny, in an offhanded way. But that’s irrelevant. I’m doing this because it's the right thing to do.

I spot him just outside of our dorms, leaning against a tree. Or rather, pinning a girl against a tree as he does what I can only assume is his version of flirting.

The girl in question doesn't appear to enjoy his attentions, if the bored droop to her face is any indication.

Rodney's not a small guy, probably played football back home, but I've got several inches and a lot more hard muscle on my side.

I pull him from the girl, who looks wide-eyed at me before scampering off, and grab the front of his shirt, glaring down at him. “I don't know why you like tormenting girls. I don’t even want to know. But you’ll leave Winter alone. Got it?”

My face is inches from his, close enough that I can smell the alcohol on his breath.

He laughs, spraying me with his saliva. “You think she doesn’t like having me around? Guess you don’t know what a slut she is.”

Growling, I slam him against the tree.

He groans, but offers another cocky grin. “If you want my advice, stay away. She’ll spread her legs easily enough, but you’ll regret ever sticking—“

I’m done listening.

I knee him in the groin. His mouth opens, a high-pitched yelp escaping as he collapses on the ground. “This is me politely telling you to back the hell off Winter and leave her alone."

Rodney curls in the fetal position as he spits at me and misses. “And if I don't?”

I pick up a stick from the ground and toss it in my hand. “Then I’ll have to figure out a creative place to stick this in."

The smirk leaves his face.

I lean down and look him in the eyes. “You’ll leave Winter alone?”

Rodney nods.

“Good.” I drop the stick and hesitate, my foot poised to kick him again.

He deserves it. I know he does. But do I want to be that guy? The kind of guy who kicks someone when they're already down?

I can't become the thing I hate the most. I walk away, leaving Rodney to his own misery.

Tormenting someone, using their fear against them, it kills them piece by piece until there's nothing left but a few words scrawled on paper.

A goodbye that will never be read.





WINTER DEVEAUX

CHAPTER 5





COUNTRY MUSIC COMING from Cade's bedroom across the hall competes with Jenifer's modern rock as I try to ignore both and focus on the rewrites of my novel. My entire future rides on this book, and each word feels like a piece of flesh being cut from my body. Everything I've written so far is maudlin and depressing.

In an effort to bring some humor into the storyline, I use the Italian from tonight as inspiration, pulling from his dialogue.

My fingers fly across the keyboard as I think over the evening.

Put your hands on the table. I need to know you do not carry any lethal weapons. A laugh escapes my lips as I continue writing.

Jenifer turns her music down. "What are you giggling about?"

"Nothing. Just working on my book." The words are flowing easier than before.

"How's it going?" she asks.

"I'm nearly done with rewriting the beginning." Okay, maybe not entirely the truth, strictly speaking, but I'm at least getting somewhere with this scene, which is more than I could say before.

"You seem happier when you write, you know," Jenifer says, tapping her foot to the beat of her music. "When you were tutoring me in French, you never looked this happy."

I look up from my computer. "I didn't?"

She shakes her head. "You were good at it, obviously. You're like an idiot savant with languages."

"Um, thanks. I think."

"You know what I mean." She stands and starts swaying to a new song that comes on. "You're a genius. But, you gotta do what you love, what makes you happy. That's most important."

"My parents and advisor don't agree with you," I tell her. "They think I should change my major to Languages and Literature. Do people ever tell you that? That you should change from acting to something more practical?"

She wiggles her hips. "Sure. All the time."

"How do you handle it?" I ask.

"I don't. What they think doesn't matter. I'm gonna be a famous actress, bitch." She holds up her hands like a gangster in an old movie. "And one day all those naysayers will be begging for my autograph."

That draws a brief chuckle out of me. "You really think so?"