When the Heart Falls(62)

“Costume change, of course. Why would I come all the way to Paris to stay cooped up in a tiny dorm room? We’re heading to a party at the club…” she stutters and stops talking, avoiding my eyes. “Never mind, you’re probably busy.”

“The club where we went with Cade?”

She nods, still not looking at me.

The pain is still there, but I’m learning to live with it, and this could provide the distraction I need to keep me from going crazy, if it’s not too late already.

“It's fine. I’d love to go with you.”

She looks up from reapplying her make up. "You sure?"

"I’m sure."

Jenifer smiles and pulls out dresses from her closet. “I’m so glad. I hate seeing you in such a slump. Okay, now, which of my dresses are you going to wear?” She hands me an ice blue strapless dress, and I slip it on.

I feel exposed, and guilty for getting dressed up and going out when Cade is either facing his dying brother, or about to. But what can I do from a million miles away? For the first time I realize that long distance might not work, not when I can’t be there for him when he needs me. Not when I can’t wrap my arms around him and tell him it’s going to be okay. He’ll want someone who can do that, someone he can hold. He’ll find someone else and I’ll be here, in Paris, living a mockery of my life because I lost the love of my life while seeking love and adventure.

The irony is not lost on me as I pretend I’m not dying inside and follow Jenifer out of the dorms and into the night.



I don’t remember a lot about my last time at this club. It was like a dream, with monsters and magic and lights floating everywhere. Mostly I remember Cade. My Cade.

But just because I don’t remember, doesn’t mean the bartender has forgotten. With a smirk, he takes our order. “You want the alcoholic kind?”

In my normal life, I’d be embarrassed, but tonight I just don’t care. Let him think what he wants. Jenifer looks more ashamed than I feel, which is fitting since she caused all the problems the last time. “Just orange juice please," I say. "No alcohol.”

The beat of the music is infectious as I finish my drink, the tangy sweetness filling my mouth. My foot taps out the rhythm, and it’s so loud that it drowns out the aching in my heart, at least a little.

Emboldened, determined not to mope the rest of the summer, I reach for Jenifer. "Let's dance.”

"I'm good," Jenifer says. "You go ahead, girl."

"Come on. Dance with me."

"Maybe later. I need to keep an eye out for Duke."

"Fine. I'll dance by myself." I just need to move, to feel the music pulse through me, taking me over as I forget about everything and everyone.

It works. The energy in the air is intoxicating, and I succumb to it, shoving aside all rational thought as my body takes over. Someone moves too close to me, and I back away a bit. The later it gets, the more crowded the dance floor, and I can’t move far without knocking into others, so I let the contact become part of my dance. We’re one mass of bodies gyrating to ancient beats that have called to us since before the world became civilized.

I don’t realize how close the man behind me has gotten until I feel his body press up against my back, his hand gripping my hip. At first, my mind goes to Cade, and for a fraction of a second I’m happy again, forgetting all the pain of recent days, but then I remember, it can’t be him, and another emotion takes over. My heart pounds its fear as I pull away from the stranger and turn around, my skin crawling from the unwanted touch.

His lips brush my ear as he refuses to release me. "It’s good to see you, Winter. You never call me."

Rocco. I step back, peeling his hand from my hip, knowing it will leave a bruise even as I bump into a girl behind me who glares at me.

Another song starts, and Rocco smiles a slimy smile. "Dance with me.”

I turn to leave but he grabs my hand and pulls me to him, moving his body in obscene ways against mine, close enough that I can feel his arousal through his pants, and it simultaneously disgusts me and terrifies me.

Sweat beads on my skin. My breathing comes in shallow gulps. I’m paralyzed. Somewhere in the back of my brain I know I should shove him away and get out of here, find Jenifer, leave the club and never return, but I can’t move. Can’t speak. His face changes and I see Rodney, the night it happened. Him holding me against my will, pinning me down as he tore my clothing off me. When Rocco presses up against me with his hard on, I feel Rodney pushing himself inside of me, ripping me, tearing me.

"This is fun, no?" His grip is so tight it hurts. How can he act like this is fun? Like I’m here of my own free will?

And how can I just stand here doing nothing?

The song ends. I try to leave, to disappear into the crowd, but his grip doesn’t let up as he pulls me across the dance floor. "I get you drink."

Okay, this is going to be okay. We’ll find Jenifer, and she’ll get me out of this mess.

He pushes me into a seat at a table by the band and scoots his chair close to me. His grip loosens, and my wrist pulses with pain as blood flow returns. When his arm slips around my shoulders I freeze. "What would you like?" he asks.

"Orange juice.” I force the words out of my dry throat, still too frozen to act. But if he goes to get us drinks, I’ll leave. I’ll run to the bathroom or find someone to help me. He can’t keep me here forever. We’re in public. He can’t hurt me. I tell myself these things through the haze of panic-induced paralysis that still grips me.